tuesday - march fourteenth (cont.)

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calum --

i get dressed and then michael drives me to his house so he can change, and then khloe shows up.

i fake a smile, pretend our last encounter never happened and that my heart doesn't break a little every time he kisses her. since he's been at my house i had forgotten he was dating anyone. it was a hard and frustrating wake up call.

it's 4:26 when we arrive at an arcade and pizzeria, probably one of michael's main hangouts. khloe seems bored and uninterested, and complains about wanting to shop instead every time i read her lips. when michael goes to the restroom and khloe calls me a deaf freak, i shove my whiteboard in my backpack and keep my head low.

she's a good actress, pretending to love michael when all she cares about are two things in his pants: his wallet and his dick. i feel myself sinking into the background with every passing second, watching the 'happy couple' cuddle across from me in our booth.

"hey, calum," michael starts, and it stings, "you wanna go play some foosball?"

i shake my head. i want to, but khloe is definitely out for blood and i'd rather stay on her good side and die quickly and painlessly.

i pretend to pay attention to the game open on my phone as i watch khloe act helpless and michael coach her arms in the right positions to play the game. i'd rather be back at last night's dinner than here. being called a faggot hurts less than seeing michael be happy with someone else.

i can see his mouth moving, not enough to comprehend his words but enough to know he's talking, and i sigh.

i pull a marker and the board from my backpack and write a note for michael.

feeling sick. gonna walk home. :)

i leave the board on the table and exit through the automatic doors, shoving my hands in my pockets and keeping my head down against the wind. i try to ignore the tears welling up in my eyes and my hair flying wildly around my head and the droplets beginning to fall on my head. i try to focus on my feet moving forward on the sidewalk, on not bumping into anyone, on keeping the tears in until i'm home.

it pisses me off that michael hasn't texted me yet, or come running from the pizza place to find me and take me home, and i dwell on it.

i am so lonely and pathetic.

to: allison
i need a friend

from: allison
where's michael?

to: allison
with his girlfriend

from: allison
luke?

to: allison
we aren't speaking, didn't he tell you?

from: allison
no...? i'll pick you up, where are you?

to: allison
in front of subway in the city

from: allison
i'm down the road!! come to the diner on the corner

to: allison
okay :)

i start walking to the diner, looking for purple hair and a familiar face. instead i get a brunette with allison's face, and i'm confused but i go inside anyway. i wave and sit in her booth, pulling off my wet jacket.

"man, it's pouring out there. i'll take you home later, alright?"

i nod, and grab a menu.

the waiter that serves us is cute, and he winks at me after writing down my order, making me blush furiously.

"aw, calum! you're so cute!" allison gushes, squishing my face. i frown and swat her hands away, puffing out my chest.

"oh, shut up. you're not manly."

i huff, drawing abstract shapes on the table with my fingertips. allie taps me on the shoulder.

"don't you have like a notepad or something? cause we kind of need to talk..."

i nod, going to grab my whiteboard before freezing and mentally face-palming. i just had to leave it, didn't i?

i pull up my notes on my phone, making one as a reminder to buy myself a new notepad or whiteboard to communicate, and another one to explain my situation with luke.

"he called you all those names?" allison says, and i can tell by her red face and the few heads turning towards us that her voice is raised.

i nod just as our waiter trots back over with two plates, and his cell phone.

"look, i'm not supposed to flirt at work, but you are just so damn cute!" he tells me, his cheeks pink. i take this opportunity to scoot over and let him sit with me, admiring his soft features and pretty blue eyes. he has a nose hoop on the right side and dark hair styled messily like my own and my heart is beating a thousand times a second at his cologne flooding my senses and his smile so close to my face.

i write 'thanks, i'm calum' in my notes but then he gives me his pad for taking orders and i write my name and number on it.

he looks directly and speaks slowly so i can understand him, "i'm michael."

a/n: oh shit

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