alizeh :: mgc

५ - 'soho'

5 - 'soho'

Alizeh didn't realise how good Michael's cologne smelled until she stood with her chest brushing his in the bus, a burly man speaking to his girlfriend behind her, and a little girl tugging at her mother's coat behind him. In short, it smelled really good. It was rich, and smelled of pine, and despite being nearly taller than everyone in her P.E. class, at eye level, everything she was met with was his bottom lip, the curve of his chin, and his Adam's apple. To say the least, the bus was packed, and Alizeh kept her bag held in front of her in case anybody decided to slip their hand in and take something. She was trying to be wary of her surroundings, but she was more focused on trying not to let each jolt throw her into Michael. It was a paper-thin gap between them, and neither of them submitted to closing it.

"If you come any closer, I can sue you for battery," he told her, trying to look down and see her. His chin hit her head, and she mumbled a quiet ow as she tilted her head back, trying not to bump the man behind her, because honestly, he terrified her. He gasped, reaching up and touching where he hit her. "I'm sorry! Did that hurt?"

"I'm going to sue you for battery." She reached up and moved his hand away. "But, no, it didn't hurt too much."

"Thank God."

She raised an eyebrow, steadying herself by grabbing the pole as the bus reared to a stop in front of a woman. "Why? Do you care about me?"

He scoffed. "Yeah. Sure. Totally."

Shaking her head, Alizeh looked down to her shoes. She sent in her article about the changes of London to Reader's Digest last night, and told herself not to check her email for a response unless she was absolutely sure she received one. Reader's Digest was a bit of a stretch, she knew, but after Laila sitting next to her and urging her to send the email, she did. Since last night at seven o'clock, she hadn't checked her inbox once. She ran her finger over the contours of her phone over her bag, trying to fight off the temptation to check. Her stomach did a flip when she remembered the Facebook messages, too. Calum. Swallowing, she looked down.

"What happened?" Michael asked. The bus reared to a stop, which inevitably broke the space between the two. Neither complained. "Are you okay?"

She met his gaze, and smiled. He knew it wasn't her regular smile -- the one she flashes after saying something incredibly pretentious -- but a sad one. She repeated softly, "Why? Do you care about me?"

♡

When they got off the bus, there was a short walk down the pavement, and a slip between two buildings where they both passed into. Soho was a different world of its own. The people were shameless, despite there being normalcy beneath the day. There were sex shops sitting in nearly every pavement, and when Alizeh turned to her side, she saw a small house with the door swung open, a paper sign blemished with cigarette marks and wrinkles reading Models with an arrow pointing in the direction of the staircase. Grinning, she patted Michael's shoulder and pointed. He laughed.

"First time you've seen a brothel?" He looked down at her, and she nodded. "You wanna go in?"

"No! You told me we wouldn't go in one."

Despite saying so, her eyes didn't leave the sign as they walked. He knew it wasn't because she genuinely wanted to hook up with a prostitute, but more out of curiosity. In the year he knew Alizeh, he had never seen the gaze in her eyes when she saw something she never came within distance with, because judging from the sheer amount she spoke, he thought she'd seen everything. Perhaps the thin ring of innocence around her mind kept her from losing the -- which Michael had to admit -- rather cute bounce of interest.