"Why am I here?"
"Because," Michelle responds, clearly annoyed with me. She rolls her eyes, sighing.
When she goes right back to watching MTV, I shake my head at her, even though I know she doesn't care.
I've repeated my question about five times now, and I still have yet to get an actual answer out of her.
When she busted into my room half an hour ago we practically had a screaming match. 'I have a headache, I just told you that on the phone,' I said to her. She said 'Bullshit! All you've been doing all week is sitting here at home. Come hang out with me. My mom won't be home for hours.' And I didn't have a choice, no matter how much I continued to protest. My mother didn't advocate for me as we barreled down the stairs, Michelle behind me to make sure I didn't try to run right back up them. In fact, Mom cheered Michelle on, happy that I had been uprooted from my hibernation.
Besides school, I've hardly left the house for the past week. I can't remember the last time we've just hung out like this, sitting on the couch in her living room. It's odd, because we've hardly spoken since two Saturday's ago at the studio.
It wasn't long after that when the reality of what I had vowed to myself that same night set in.
"This is the last time I'll ever kiss him."
It's funny how we can make promises or say things, and then not feel the true weight of them. Words are empty unless actions follow, but luckily, I like to honor my word. And God, it hurts.
The tears ran out quickly, my body physically unable to release any more feelings on the matter by the end of that first week without Axl in my life. The last time I saw any members of the band was again, that Saturday at the studio. Avoiding them hasn't been easy, but I've managed to pull it off with claims of having to study over helping them with the album. Duff's been sad about it, I know from the way he's sounded on the phone, but I don't know how else to go about this.
Go and torture myself by being around Axl, and potentially get into an even deeper situation where I could mess up his future? Or keep my distance until I can get over him?
The latter sounds much more reasonable, a mature decision that's been painful to actually execute, but necessary.
It's So Easy is already out as a single off of Appetite For Destruction. Slash has briefly told me the numbers have been bad, but I refuse to believe it'll maintain that way. I give it only a matter of time before the record charts, ends up on television, the tour dates that I'm sure to come will sell out, and Guns N' Roses becomes more famous than any of them can comprehend.
The universe never intended for us to be together. If we had met differently, if I were older, if Duff wasn't like a brother. . . Maybe. But that's not how this played out. It's all for a reason.
The more I think, the more I wish Michelle would let me go back home. Impulsively, I grab the T.V. remote between us and quickly hit the power button.
Michelle's sitting up and scowling before the screen even goes black. "What did you do that for?"
"I want you to be honest with me," I tell her, my tone serious. "You didn't just drag me over here to watch Rick Springfield, I know it. You think sitting around like this is boring. So tell me, no bullshit. What's going on?"
She's messing with her hair now, the blonde waves weaved between her fingers. Based on this alone, her not looking at me, I know she's had a trick up her sleeve this entire time.
"You have to promise not to run out of the house."
Immediately, confusion floods me, my face contorting with it. Before I can ask her what that's supposed to mean, the sight outside the window we're situated in front of makes the words catch in my throat.
