Rebel: Michael Clifford

Chapter 4

It's been a week since I had Michael over and my dad has shown no signs of changing his mind about me. I honestly don't understand why because I have strait As, I don't drink or do drugs, and I never go to parties. Okay, that last one is a lie because me and Michael are going to a party tonight, but still.

He claims, though, that me going to this stupid party is proof that I do drink and do drugs. I don't get how he thinks, it doesn't make any sense.

My phone buzzes as I get a text from Michael telling me he's outside.

I finish putting on mascara before heading out. "Mom, Dad, I'm leaving!" I call as I walk through the front door.

I walk over to Michael's old, beat up car. He leans over and opens the door for me. "Hey babe." he says as I get in.

"Michael." I grumble. I hate when he calls me babe but he insists on it. "don't call me that."

"Okay, babe." he laughs.

"Seriously, stop." I try to sound stern.

"Whatever you say babe."

"Just shut up and drive." I demand.

He laughs as he pulls out of my driveway. I don't think it's very funny, but to him it's hilarious.

"Who's house are we going to anyways?" I ask after a few minutes if silence.

"Mine." he answers simply.

"I could've driven myself." I tell him. "this us just a waste of gas."

"Maybe I wanted to drive you."

"What, are you running a taxi service or something?" I tease.

"Last time I checked I'm doing this for free." he retorts. "but I will accept tips." he adds, winking at me.

"Here's a tip, keep your eyes on the road."

He lets out a chuckle before pretending like he's losing control. "hang on tight!" he shouts as he sharply pulls into a driveway, presumably his.

"I thought there was a party." there's no cars here and the house looks completely empty.

"People should start showing up in a little bit." he says, and as if on cue a car pulls in. A couple guys get out, all holding cases of beer in their hands.

"Your parents are okay with underage drinking?" I ask.

"My parents aren't home enough to even care." He says before walking into the house. I quietly follow, not completely comfortable with the situation.

As more and more people show up I start to cling to Michael. Not in the jealous girlfriend type of way, but more like I'm a lost puppy kind of way. I don't really know anyone here, yeah I've seen some of them at school but I don't socialize with any of them. In fact, the only people I really socialize with are Jenna and Michael. And the only reason I socialize with Michael is because he may be annoying but he's never really given me a reason to dislike him and for some reason he likes talking to me.

We make out way to the kitchen and Michael grabs a beer. "want something?" he asks.

I know he means alcohol but instead I ask, "do you have any bottled water?"

He laughs. "you are such a goody two shoes."

"No I'm not." I protest. "I just really hate the smell of alcohol." it's true, every time I get a whiff of it I gag.

"Have you ever even drank anything alcoholic?" he smirks.

"Yes, I've had the wine at church." I say, and once again he laughs. "I hate the taste. They have the option of apple juice for the little kids and I've tried to take that but I got yelled at." this causes him to laugh harder.

"It's not the taste that most people like, its the feeling the alcohol gives them." he explains.

"I'd rather have fun watching everyone else make fools of themselves and be completely fine tomorrow than be the one making a fool out of myself and then be bent over the toilet the following morning." I explain.

"Suit yourself." he shrugs as he takes a swig of his beer. "but you're gonna get bored."

"I can have just as much fun sober as you can drunk."

"Prove it." he challenges.

"How?" I'm not quite sure I can prove it if he's not even gonna remember tomorrow.

"Well for starters you could dance with me." he suggests.

"I think you and I have different ideas of fun." I hate dancing. I honest to goodness cannot dance to save my life.

"C'mon Carm, I thought you were fun." he prods at me. I groan, giving in as he pulls me into his living room where the furniture has all been moved to the outer edge of the room to create a dance floor.

At first I'm very self conscious of my dance skills, but as time passes and everyone, including Michael, gets more and more drunk, my dancing is no longer the worst. I let go and dance like I'm alone in my room. It's not like any of these people notice anyway. Michael starts to get a little handsy, but I don't mind too much, I doubt that even in his drunken state he would go farther than I pleased.

After a few more dances I can feel fatigue start to set in. "Michael!" I shout over the music. "Can I borrow your car?!" I wish I had brought money so I could just call a cab.

"I can drive you." he slurs.

"No." I shake my head. "you need to stay at your party." I tell him, if I had said he was too drunk he would've felt the need to prove me wrong.

He seems to hesitate before reaching in his pocket and pulling out his keys. "be careful." he tells me. At first I thought he was warning me not to wreck his car but then he adds. "call me when you're safe." It warms my heart that even in his drunken state he is still so caring.

"I will." I promise before leaving the chaotic house.