Right Place, Right Time {Michael Clifford}

5. Take-Out Chinese is the Way To Go

-Cylan-

Sunlight brushes past our apartment windows, as it finally reaches noon. I quickly brush the shavings from my pencil off my desk, and continue my song writing process. We're trying to get at least four songs newly written for our "in progress EP". It's a long shot but in two weeks we will have a meeting with a record label to try and get them to let us do the EP. And if it gets good ratings, they'll fully sign us on. Usually, Lydia and I come up with the lyrics and then, Geordie and Lainey put their heads together for chords and what not.

Today I'm working solo because Ryan decided that he wanted to take Lydia on a little getaway for five days, to Honolulu. I let it slide because these next few weeks are going to be hectic, knowing that Michael and them all are visiting this week and the EP, I knew they wouldn't get to see each other much often. Her happiness is key to making everything work with our band. We all have to be able to be happy ourselves because if not, it effects the entire band. Then all of our hard work would go to shit.

"Geordie, this chord doesn't even sound right." Lainey groans, putting her guitar down against the beanbag. She claims that the beanbags are her helpers, so she drug two up here for time being.

I hear the rumbling of a cell phone vibrating against a table. I glance around to see my cell phone illuminating off the small coffee table. I truly don't know why it has been buzzing so much. My phone has been going off ever since I started writing, almost an hour ago. I refuse to use my phone or iPad when I'm in the process of writing. It's too distracting.

Breaking down, I sneak my way across the room to quickly slip my phone into my pocket. "What are you doing Cy?" Lainey asks, sticking her guitar pick in between her lips. I mentally cringe, knowing she'll give me shit for grabbing my phone.

"I'm going to google these lyrics and make sure no one has used them before." I bluntly lie. Well it's partially true, but I just want to check and see who won't quit texting me. It's getting on my last nerve so I'm going to quickly text them to stop and be on my way.

I carefully pull my phone out to see an unknown number all over my screen. First message that pops up, reveals that the unknown person is the one and only, Michael Clifford. Confusion spreads through me, as I know for a fact that I never gave him my phone number. I enter my passcode to reply, but feel an uncomfortable stare glazing straight through me. "Just on Google, aye?" Shit, shit, shit, shit.

It has begun.

The unbearable taunting, teasing, bickering will start flowing out of Lainey as if her life depends on it. I barely have any boys in my contacts, let alone a guy like Michael, so of course every time this happens, they all bug the death out of me. First it starts out with the "ooh, you're texting a boy." and then they resort to "he must like you!" Of course, that leads to my denial. My friends like to believe in the unrealistic version of my life, where I happen to like a guy and them liking me back. It has never worked out. Ever. My longest relationship was a month. It's sorrowful.

I've never been big on relationships, friendly or more than friendly. I see myself as quite the loner even if I'm with my group of friends. And whenever people get close, they leave out of nowhere. I try to minimize the amount of hurt played on me as much as possible. Everyone always leaves, it's just a matter of time.

"Maybe you could invite him out for lunch?" Geordie butts in, a playful smirk plastered to her face.

My head is already throbbing, so I quickly toss my phone onto the desk beside me and swirl around in my desk chair. I need to focus. No distractions, especially guy distractions. I'm independent, I don't need anyone to fill my happiness. Well besides these four girls but other than that, they are the family and friends I need.