~12:03 am~ To: "sex god" Mikey i wish we could meet. ~12:07 am~ From: "sex god" Mikey one day, we will. Sequel: Connected

Three years. Three years I’d made it through this hell hole unnoticed. I thought I could stay under the radar for the rest of junior year, but of course something, or someone, more specifically, had to come screw it up. I mean, it’s not like it was on purpose, but it threw all my three years of hard work down the drain. I worked so hard to stay unnoticed, unknown, and it worked pretty well. And even through the public humiliation of 'The Spaghetti Incident', I don't regret it for a second. It might've caused me temporary humiliation, but that's how I met Michael. And I wouldn't trade that day for the world.

se·cret /sēkrit/ noun something that is kept or meant to be kept unknown or unseen by others. everybody has secrets, but only Michael and Grace have a secret big enough with the potential to ruin relationships.

Sneaking glances in the hallway shouldn't have been difficult but every time she saw him, she felt as if her world was crumbling at her feet.

❝There are some things I've always wanted to tell you, but never had the courage to.❞ short story #90 || fan-fiction #248 [4.20.14]

Some things come unexpected.

Michael Clifford is the bad boy with tattoos, piercings, and purple dyed hair. Ashley Johnson is the good girl that falls for the good guys. Michael hasn't ever really cared for girls; only their sex. Ashley has never fallen in love before. Will they both benefit one another? Every bad boy needs a good girl, right?

"Do you know why I dye my hair?" He asks me. "Why?" I'm still confused, but go along. He scoots closer. "I always thought of my life simply. Like black and white, no happiness, no color. So I like dyeing it." "Everythings better in color, right?" ✂-------------------------------------------------- A story in which two people are in desperate need of color in their life. Short Story #246 / Fanfiction #758 September 7th

You are fucked up. You are alone. You are a dreamer. I met people who were fucked up. I met people who were alone. I met people who were dreamers. They were the ones that understood.

"Have you ever considered for like a second," I rolled my eyes at him immediately, "let me finish. Just a second, to try something your little uptight friends would disapprove of." I thought about it. "Obviously, I can't recall anything I have ever tried. Not a fair proposition." I sighed. This amnesia shit was beyond frustrating. "Even better. Think of anything. Something you've seen on a movie, read in a book, saw on MTV. Go wild." I smirked. I was going to do just that. "I don't remember ever getting high in the parking lot of a pizza place, then going inside to eat a shit ton of pizza." I smiled at the music video I still remember ogling at when I was ten, wanting desperately to be a teenager. "You got it." he started the car, and another unpredictable night began. In the midst of regaining her memory and getting her life back to where it was, everything gets twisted, to say the least- all thanks to one boy.