The Boy With The Fedora (A Michael Jackson Fanfiction) (ON HOLD)

Chapter 8

LIZZY POV

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I place a blonde curl behind my ear as I pace the cell they were keeping me in

Why aren't my parents here?!

I threw my hands up in frustration and changed my thinking to proving my innocence. Maybe fingerprints would help me out here. But that would take ages and by then I would be in court.

But Jason! He can claim who the real culprit is. A guy in a gold mask? Perfect description.

I rub my sweaty hands on my worn out blue jeans. I heard the door to my cell open. I whip my head around to see who it was. I couldn't see very well without my glasses but I squint and I am able to see a police officer standing there.

"What do you want?" I snap at him.

"Your parents are here with your brothers." He said.

"Can they come?" I ask hopefully.

"No. Not until we have some paperwork." He said.

I held myself back from strangling the man.

"Alright." I say sitting down on the bed beside me.

I hadn't noticed I was holding my breath until the police officer had closed the door.

I let out a shaky breath. It was his entire fault. The man in the mask. And he is just going to get away with it. What frustrates me is not knowing who he is.

I place my head on the uncomfortable bed, and somehow fall asleep.

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I woke up. And guess who was staring down at my face? The man in the gold mask.

I was about to scream but he covered my mouth.

In my cell, it was dark and his eyes were looking down at me like a cat's.

"Who are you?" I say removing his hand from my mouth.

He removed his mask and it took me a while to focus on his image. A police officer!

"Let me go!" I shout at the man.

"Shut up. It's Michael." He said.

Just Michael. Wearing a police officer's uniform.

"What are you doing here?" I whisper.

"Saving your helpless butt." He said.

"Bu-"

"Do you want to leave or not?" He asked.

"They are going to find me again anyway." I sigh.

"No, they won't. Jason woke up and said he didn't remember anything that happened from that night. Probably too drunk. Also, he said he wasn't holding charges because it was probably a joke." Michael said quickly.

"How can I trust you won’t joke with me?" I ask suspiciously.

"I'm the only escape route you got, or do you want to wait for your parents to bring in those 200 pages of papers they have to sign and answer?"

I took a moment to think about this. Something urges me that it's okay. I fight back the thought with reasoning but it over takes me. I can't believe I'm trusting him.

"But I can barely see without my glasses, I'm like legally blind." I say frustrated. Why did I feel so much like Velma?

Michael stared at me for a while. It made me feel uncomfortable.

"I'll just have to carry you then." He says.

"No!-" 

It was too late, he already picked me up bridal style and my cloak whipped over his hands.

I had no right to object since he was the one making the choice of saving me. I wrapped my hands around his neck to keep my balance as he ran out the cell.

"You're going to get in trouble." I whisper.

"Don't worry, I'm a professional at this."

His skin was so warm on my hands it felt nice. 

A few police guards surrounded us. I closed my eyes tight waiting to hear gunshots.

I heard a few grunts and a gunshot. I felt Michael moving at fast speed but I didn't dare open my eyes.

I opened my eyes when everything stopped. I looked all around me and saw a blurry image of cops on the ground passed out. Michael had blood dripping from his mouth and a crooked smile was plastered on his face as he looked down at me. I touched his lip and there was blood on my fingers.

"You're hurt." I whisper.

"Yeah, but we better get going." He said. 

He ran to the doors and  walked out. I felt the summer night wind blow on my cloak. Michael placed me down slowly and I held him for support as the world came in focus. But it was still blurry.

"I miss my glasses." I whine.

Michael started laughing.

"Shut up. How are we going to get home?' I ask.

"My motorcycle." He said.

"No! Nuh-uh I'm scared of fast moving objects that make loud noises." I say.

"Or I could just leave you here." Michael said letting go of my arm.

"OKAY!" I whine.

I feel myself being picked off the ground and placed on a cold leather seat. I looked down and saw it was black. Or maybe it was red.

I felt someone in front of me. Michael.

"Here, put this on your head." Michael said throwing me his helmet. It was a helmet with a screen cover in the front which was sort of cool. I took it and fixed it on my head. It smelled like lemons. He probably uses that kind of shampoo.

"But where is yours?" I ask.

"I don't need a helmet." He said.

"Okay." I mumble.

"Hold on."

"No, I'm okay." I mumble.

"Suit yourself." He said shrugging. 

The vehicle started and I got scared. I grabbed on to Michael with all my strength.

"Don't kill me now." Michael said.

I loosen my grip on his waist.

We started moving and I started to become more relaxed.

I fiddled with the hem of his shirt and I realized how uncomfortable he was when I saw his ears turning pink.

Its like every time I shifted, his heart would go nuts in his chest. Probably from all the excitement of riding.

I got bored and decided to trace letters on his back. Bad idea. The vehicle almost went out of control.

I should just try my best not to touch him.

We got to my house and Michael stopped the bike. I tried my best to get off the motorcycle without tripping but I ended up falling. Michael caught me, centimeters away from the pavement.

"Thanks." I say straightening myself. I take off his helmet and I give it back to him.

"You don't need help navigating to your house?" He joked.

I gave him an are-you-serious look.

He gave me a small smile.

He put his helmet on and I nodded, he nodded back.

Then he just drove off.