Disconnected

Chapter Eight

Daniella

A loud and obnoxious knock on my door startles me. I quickly wipe the flood of tears on my cheeks and walk over to the door to open it. I take a deep breath and prepare to face whoever is on the other side of the door. I have to explain myself to them and pack my bags to go home.

Michael.

Of all the people who could have come up to confront me and tell me to go home, it had to be him?!

I wipe a tear and brush it off my finger and onto my pants.

"Oh," Michael stares, looking at my bloodshot eyes.

I shake my head and close the door, not wanting him to insult my looks again. I get it. I am not his type. That is not my biggest problem right now.

"Wait!" Michael shoves his foot in the doorframe to prevent me from closing my door all the way. "Can I come in?" He asks, standing in the middle of the room.

"You own this room apparently, so why not?" I sit on the edge of the bed and bite my lip to stop myself from crying anymore. Crying in front of him will just add fire to his flame.

Michael walks over and sits next to me on the bed, his hands in his lap and his chin presses against his chest, looking at his hands. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry." He admits, not bothering to look up and apologize to my face.

Normally I wouldn't accept an apology from an arrogant monster, but these are different circumstances.

I am in a completely new area: a completely new country. I have been placed in an entirely new job and I have been thrown into a celebrity's life. In more ways than one.

I used to idolize these boys. Now I am eating dinner with them and sharing closet space. It is all just so strange.

And I have to take into consideration that this situation isn't just new for me, but for these boys as well.

I shake my head. "Its not you really. I mean, the insults don't really help but that's not why I am upset." I admit. He isn't the reason I am crying. I am just scared. Michael is not my problem. My self confidence is.

"Then what is it?" Michael asks, turning to look at me. I don't see why he is so interested in my now? Just minutes ago he was insulting my figure and asking me to dance around in my underwear for him. I do not understand him at all.

"I miss my home. It wasn't all that great. I lived in a one room apartment. But I still miss it. I want to see that dumpster out of my bedroom window. I never thought I would miss it so much." I pause, thinking about what I should tell him and if I should really trust him.

"Go on. Finish what you were going to say." He urges me to vent to him.

"I just picked everything up and left. Would you believe none of my friends have called to see where I am? I should be walking on a runway right now. I walked right out of a photo shoot to come here. But yet, not a single call. No texts. Nothing." I sigh, felling good about getting that out. "No one is wondering where I am."

Michael nods. "Well then they aren't really your friends."

I lift my head in shock. What did he just say? Is he trying to give me advice and make me feel better?! "Okay. Not that I mind you being nice to me but why are you really here?"

"I just want to help you." He shrugs his shoulders and places his right hand on my lap.

"Bullshit." I shake my head. There is now way he doesn't have alternative motives right now.

I mean, If anything, he's got his hand on me. He's touching me. Maybe that's what he wanted.

"Okay. Well I do feel bad about what I said down there and I should be leaving you alone right now but I needed to know, are you really being paid to be here?" The truth is revealed.

"A lot" I nod. I won't tell him how much, to spare what good feelings he has left in his body.

"Wow." Michael turns his head and looks at the floor. He removes his hand from my leg and places it on his knee. "It's gotten that bad I guess." He stares at the floor, nodding. "I guess I do need help after all." He shakes his head in defeat.

"That is why I am here. To help you. And the others." I smile and place my hand on top of his. "It's alright. I can help you. You just have to let me in."

Michael nods in acceptance. "We can work on that together I guess."

I nod. "I am glad you are willing to work on yourself. That is the first step in getting better. Admitting you have a problem." A smile forces it's way on to my lips. Maybe I am getting through to him. Maybe this will be easier than I thought. I would really like that. I am sure the others will appreciate that too.

"Good night, princess." Michael smirks and walks to the door.

"My name is Daniella you know." I turn to look at him in the doorway.

"Good night princess." He repeats.

Rats. He isn't going to drop that. Maybe by the end of the week I can get him to call me Daniella. Or something less, royal. I'll settle for Dani or, anything really.

Just not princess. Or baby doll. Ew. That would be disgusting.

I sigh and chuckle to myself. "Goodnight Michael."

Something tells me he might forget this conversation ever happened when he wakes up tomorrow. I have this gut feeling that he will do what he has been doing. He will not be any different. Not even the slightest bit.

Such a shame.