This Year's Love // Michael Clifford

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Brittany Dawson

"Where are you going?" I ask Becca as she rushes past me to the front door of our shared house.

"I have to work," she says. "Totally forgot I have a shift today."

"Aw." I pout. "I wanted to go to the mall."

"Go with Michael," she replies, obviously teasing me about the famous pop punk band member I spent my night (and morning, actually) with.

"I don't know," I trail off. "I don't want to seem clingy."

"Brittany, my God, the guy asked you of all people to go on a date with him last night," Becca bluntly states. "You're not gonna seem clingy by asking him to go to the mall. Worst case scenario: he says no."

"Wait, what do you mean by you of all people?" I mock.

"He's super hot, dude," she states. "He could date, like, a supermodel if he wanted."

"Go to work," I groan. "You're so mean."

"Only stating the facts, man," she says as she skips out of the house.

"Only stating the facts, man," I mimic her, grabbing my phone from the coffee table in front of me.

I was glad to have gotten Michael's number last night. He dropped me off at my house around three this morning. We left Skyzone shortly after our game of Would You Rather and went to a 24 hour fast food place for milkshakes.

I quickly compose a text message.

To: Michael Clifford

Doing anything besides the concert today?

I received a reply no sooner after.

From: Michael Clifford

no. did u want 2 do somethin?

I cringe at his terrible texting grammar, but brush it off since he can obviously speak well enough in person.

To: Michael Clifford

I wanted to go to the mall with Becca, but she ditched me for work.

From: Michael Clifford

do u want 2 go 2 the mall?

To: Michael Clifford

Do you?

From: Michael Clifford

ill be there n 15 min

I jump up from my spot after sending him an okay, then hurry to my bedroom to change out of my pajamas. I quickly pull on a black t-shirt I owned with an emblem for something or another on the front, then a pair of shorts (sheer panty hose underneath those) and, finally, my combat boots. They weren't Doc Martens by any means (I'm far too poor for that), but they were a pretty nice pair. I slipped a green jacket over my shirt, then put a black beanie on my my head. I decided I looked good enough after putting on some makeup.

Just as I was grabbing my phone from where I left it on the couch, there's a knock on the door that could only be Michael. I open the door to reveal my lilac colored hair friend, greeting him with a tight hug and a toothy grin.