❝HONEY❞
❚chapter eight;fuck off, Gordon❚
MICHAELS EYES opened slowly, immediately squinting at the light. Michael clutched his pounding head, his vision blurring as he took in a deep breath. Once he had regained himself, he stretched, assessed his surroundings. He was outside on a trampoline, someone pressed up against him with their arm slung around him. He noticed the hand to be that of a girls, and he smiled to himself, knowing he had gotten with someone last night.
He carefully took the hand, placing it behind him so he could get away without her ever knowing. He stole a glance back to see whoever it was, and he swore to God his heart stopped beating.
'No no no no no' he thought to himself. 'I did not sleep with her.'
His jaw dropped as he scanned her, making sure that it was indeed Honey Mannon.
His disbelief and horror quickly turned to rage as he spotted his leather jacket on her. Why the fuck was she wearing it?
"Hey!" Michael whisper-yelled, slapping her arm. His head pounded even harder as Honey batted him away and rolled over. The action caused her to further sink into the bend made by Michael's weight. She was practically on top of him now.
"Wake the fuck up!" Michael said a little louder, shoving her away. He tried to ignore his aching head and stiff limbs. He had been hungover much worse than this.
"Can you shut up for like 2 seconds? Thanks." Honey croaked out, also having quite a hangover.
"Did we.." Michael gulped, not wanting to say it. Just the thought made him physically sick, and he could feel his stomach churning. The last place he'd ever want to be was in that.
"No," Honey sighed humorously, "I was still a little drunk and wanted to look at the sky. You were high and wanted to see, too. We just passed out next to each other."
Michael sighed with relief, but rolled his eyes at her tone. She was the one wearing his jacket. She as the one who had her arm wrapped around him. Michael smirked to himself, deciding that was exactly what he was going to tell her.
"Yeah? Well that doesn't explain your arm wrapped around me and you wearing my jacket." Michael raised his eyebrows, proud of himself. Lets see her respond to that.
"Well don't look at me, you think I remember every little detail last night?" She groaned, sitting up and facing Michael, struggling to get the jacket off. Her dark green eyes glaring at Michael, and Michael threw his hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing, which obviously failed.
Honeys usually straight purple hair was matted, sticking up in all directions from the static because of the trampoline. She clenched her fist, her nails leaving little imprints I her palms. Michael laughed even harder at her, the black makeup smudges under her eyes and lipstick on her cheek not helping.
"Fuck off." Honey snarled, balling up the jacket and throwing it at Michael. Michael bit his lip to keep from laughing again, and rolled off the trampoline. He turned, walking backwards and holding up the jacket.
No one in history had ever wanted to punch someone as badly as Honey Mannon wanted to punch Michael Clifford at that exact moment. His annoying laugh and condescending words made the fire inside her rise, and she once again dug her nails into her skin to keep herself from attacking him.
"Thanks a bunch, Honey." He stressed her name, so she knew he wasn't just saying her name.
Honey flipped him off, no expression on her face except for annoyance. Michael couldn't help himself, and just to piss her off more, he blew her a kiss. When he turned around, his fingers folded down, leaving just his middle finger in the air.
