KNOCK OUT [LH]

Chapter 2: Michael Clifford

"Please, can you just go instead?" Calum tries to plead with me one last time, as we stand outside of the Sheryl's Beauty freezing our booties off in the icy winter weather.

Shaking my head, I pull up the collar of my jacket a bit more to block out the cold. "We agreed on this, Cal." I remind him, and his shoulders slump in defeat. Calum always seemed to get cold feet whenever it was time to initiate a plan--he just needed some reassurance. "All you need to do is be your lovely, friendly, beautifully amazing, super sexy, and cool self and score an invite to the next fight."

Running a hand through his dark hair, Calum groans in annoyance and yanks on a few pieces, but tilts his head to the side in agreement. "I am super sexy and cool." He reasons. "But what am I even supposed to get done?"

"Just ask for a trim, not anything too complicated. You're mainly there for Michael, remember? Not his hair skills." I remind him, with an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and spin him towards the entrance. "Plus, he's Australian, so you two can bond over that!"

"Fine." Calum huffs, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "But you owe me, Winnie, and I'm talking big time." He warns, and I roughly nudge him towards the door.

"Yeah, yeah." I say, as he reaches for the handle, giving me one last annoyed look. "Now get in there, and don't come out until you get an invite." I command, which only earns me a flip of the bird, and I send him a sheepish grin before he disappears inside.

--

If I'm being totally honest, I didn't expect Calum to take more than thirty minutes in the salon. So when the three hour mark hit, I think I had every right to worry--especially since it was as cold as balls outside, and I was pretty sure my buttcheeks were frozen to the metal bench I was sitting on.

So going against my own rules, I decided that both my health and my friend's whereabouts were more important than the stupid fanfic rules, and gave in.

After carefully removing my bum from the bench, not wanting to leave anything behind, I awkwardly shuffled inside of Sheryl's Beauty, trying to be as stealth as possible. I had to get in and get out, preferably with Calum, all the while going unseen by Michael Clifford.

Easy enough, I'd say...but boy was I wrong.

Before the expensive essential oil smells of the salon could even fill my awaiting nostrils, an icy gust of wind came trailing in behind me, slamming the door directly into my back, and knocking me over.

Paired with the loss of my footing and the loss of air in my lungs, I was sent flying into one of the fancy product display shelves, where I struggled to keep my balance. I desperately reached out for something to grab, but thanks to my uncoordinated make up, I ended up swiping various bottles of expensive hair product to the floor along with my crippled body.

Hopefully no one saw that.

"Oh shit!" Someone yelled as other audible gasps filled my ears, making me wince.

Of course people saw that.

Suddenly, I was being tugged up from the ground and back onto my feet, only to come face to face, well technically face to chest, with the exact man I was trying to avoid.

Oh shit, was right.

There in black rimmed glasses and choppy blonde hair, stood Meredith's finest beautician, Michael Clifford. He wore an amused smile on his face as he stared down at me with a raised brow, and all I could do was blink back at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

No doubt, I looked absolutely insane.

"You alright? You took quite the spill there." Michael chuckled, letting go of my arm once I regained my balance, and crouched down to pick up the bottles I so elegantly knocked over.