Begin Again - A.I

twenty one.

"This project blows," Michael huffs, leaning back in his chair and blowing his fringe away from his face. His hair is a dark blue now. He dyed it the morning after Luke's. How he still has hair left I really don't know. 

"You blow," I retaliate, sorting through my piles and piles of work.

"You do," he says back, grinning cheekily. "At least you wish you did. For Ashton."

I drop my sheets of paper and look around the library in alarm. "Michael!" I hiss, giving him a 'what the hell' look.

He shrugs. "Am I not wrong?"

"You are," I snap. "And can you please drop this whole thing?"

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"It, just like you, is annoying."

"It, just like me, is annoying because you're trying to ignore it," he states simply, picking at the dirt under his fingernails. "And, honey, you couldn't ignore me if you tried."

I just roll my eyes. "I thought you hated me," I say. "Wouldn't me ignoring you be a dream?"

Michael hesitates, pondering my statement. "Somewhat. But I know you're only ignoring me because I have dirt on you."

"You do not."

"Oh, don't I?" He leans forward. "Are you sure about that?"

I dump my papers down, completely losing all focus from them. My gaze on him is strong. "Seriously, what's the aim? What do you want out of all of this?"

"There is no aim, Ella," Michael replies. "At least, not for me anyway. You're the one who wants an outcome."

"Nothing's gonna happen anyway," I state. I was just saying it to seem humble. I really did hope there would be an outcome.

"Are you sure?"

"Why?" My ears perk up. "Did he say something about me?"

Michael rolls his eyes. "You girls are all the same. Even you, Miss Bionic Woman, the one with no heart, still gets all mushy over a boy."

I try and ignore his harsh insult. I've heard worse. At least he didn't make a comment about my weight. "I am not all 'mushy'," I argue.

"What are you then?"

"I'm just ... I'm ... interested."

Michael snorts. "Yeah. And I'm interested in Megan Fox. You're in love with the guy, Ella. Admit that you have been since you were seven years old."

I falter. Could Michael be right? I don't know if I would go as far as saying love. I mean, I love a lot of things. Like the new Chanel Fall line, or my cream Vuitton tote, or my Jimmy Choo pumps, and Ben & Jerry's cotton candy ice cream, and The Notebook, but could I really love Ashton? Was he really in my line of things I loved? I barely even knew the guy. I just had an interest in him. I mean, sure, I liked him. What wasn't there to like? But love? And since I was seven?

I realise I've totally dazed out in my own Ashton world and when I come to again I find that I'm not the only one. I catch Michael talking to a petite brunette, round glasses perched on her nose. She holds about three chunky textbooks in her arms and seems to be laughing hysterically at whatever Michael has to say, which seems strange. Because nothing Michael has to say is even remotely interesting let alone funny. I watch this interaction curiously, like I'm watching the new Sandra Bullock movie.