Bro Code : Luke Hemmings IN EDITING

Twenty-Nine : PART TWO

#BroCodeFF on twitter!! Tweet me with opinions or questions! I reply and RT a lot! Just use the tag and I'll creep it. 

Guys, I've changed my user to @MadelineIce (madelineice) to keep it more private. I'd rather not have my real name attached to the book. It may sound odd, but I'm sure some of you understand. :)

I'm sorry for the long wait, it was a bad week since the last update. I hope you guys don't hate me. Without further waiting, here you do. 

 I will edit it tomorrow btw. :)

200 VOTES          +          75 COMMENTS         =          THURSDAY CHAPTER

Michael's POV

"Your buds are going to think you're famous," he smirks, pulling into the lot.

"Yeah, my friends are all jealous," I lie. My one friend is going to want to kill me.

"Here you are," he says, turning the car off. "I'll be here if you want to go anywhere else," he smiles. 

"You're not coming in with me?" I ask.

"Eh, I don't usually," he says. His young yet wrinkled eyes are confused.

"Could you? I don't want to be in there alone with strangers," I tell him. 

"We're no more than strangers," he tells me.

True. "But I know you better than them, Chris. See, I know your name. Do I know theirs? Nope."

"If you insist, I'll come," he smiles. He starts to get out, but I stop him.

"But dude, you gotta change that shirt, its fucking ugly," I laugh. He looks down and clings the material, then he laughs to himself.

"My wife insisted I wear it today," he smiles. "I have a spair white button-up in the glove box; hand me it?" he asks.

"Why do you keep clothes in here?" I ask, opening the compartment. I pull the shirt out and toss it to him. 

He opens the door and stands to unbutton his shirt. "Days like this, if I spill something, if I need to look better. Plus, white goes with everything," he smiles and tosses the old shirt at me to replace the white one that he's slipping his arms through. He rolls up the end of the sleeve to make it up to his elbows. 

"So much better," I laugh, but mean it honestly. "I suggest you only wear that on vacation or burn it altogether."

"I'll be sure to let my wife know," he chuckles. I get out of the car, making sure I have my phone and double checking that Chris has his keys.

We walk towards the front of the building as people briskly walk past us. He opens the door and walks in first, I trail right behind him as we make our way to the front counter. The petit women looks up at us with a friendly smile.

"Name?" she asks.

"Michael Clifford," I tell her. She types on her keyboard before returning another smile and telling me to wait just where I am. I turn to Chris while I wait for the woman to return. "So how'd you get this job?"

"I went to school to be a writer, but wouldn't you guess, it's not a likely career to get a job in. I've known John since we were mates in high school, and we even went to University together. That's how I know what he would be doing. A little while after we graduated, he got bumped up into the big leagues and my wife and I had just been married. We tried to find a house and start a life, but it was futile. I went a couple of years at a postal service, then I met John again when I was delivering to his work," he smiles. "I'm sorry, I guess I could've summed that up."