Lying To Be Perfect?// Michael Clifford.

1.

I sighed as I entered Starbucks and put on my uniform. I hated working here, like really hated it. But I had no other choice, I was 17 and I didn't have the richest parents in the world. Actually, the richest mom. I loved my mom but she was in LA and I was staying in London for my studies. I came to London to continue my Psychology studies. It was just an excuse, I've always really wanted to be in London. Like, always. My mom sends me a draft of money every month but it's not enough. I didn't get a job anywhere, so Taylor helped me get a job here. It wasn't all that bad working in Starbucks, but I was so tired of everyone choosing the other counter because Venita was so much prettier than me. It annoyed me to be reminded that no guy would ever hit on me. Lol. And then my friends think I'm dating THE Michael Clifford. I just want someone to finally look at me and think that I am the most beautiful girl that they have ever known. I want someone to lay awake at night thinking about me. I want someone to get excited to talk to me, to be afraid to be without me, to think that I am the most important person in their world. I want someone to dream about running their fingertips over the hills and valleys of my body while they listen to the rise and fall of my voice. I just want for there to be someone who loves me unselfishly. Someone who doesn't just love me because of what I can give them. Someone who loves me just because they can't help it. Just once. I'd like to finally have that. Everyone needs somebody, but somebody has never been me. If you're wondering how I look, then, well.. I have red hair and I'm not too pale nor too tanned, I'm average. And I have a huge pimple on my nose and I'm not too tall or too short, I'm like...average. And I'm pretty average in life, as well. I sighed and waited for a customer, thinking of what I would actually tell my friends about Michael. They have all these hopes from me, ugh.

Because Samantha has told us very clearly that if I don't get Michael it means I can't come to the party as well. She's such a fucking bitch, ugh. I want to go to the party. But how the fuck am I gonna create a Michael Clifford? I suck so much, I'm such a sad person. I feel I should really tell my friends that this is all a lie, but, then I'll be a loner. And everyone would hate me and I don't want that. I glanced up at the clock and it was 08:45PM, it was weird that not many people visited here today because usually there's this whole buzz on Mondays.. and Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and you get my drift? As I sighed for the 45th time the door opened and two boys walked in and I prepared myself to accept the fact that they would go at Venita's counter and ... OH MY GOD IS THAT WHO THAT IS?

For a minute I cannot speak, I'm looking at them and they're looking at me, my eyes are as wide as ever. They're confused and they want to say something but they are not very sure what to say. I get myself to speak, finally and try not to fumble or stutter or...

"Hello, Welcome to Starbucks!" I say nervously, "What would you like?"

"Pumpkin Spice Latte, please," Luke smiled and Michael groaned.

"Okay," I took a deep breath, "Pumpkin Spice Latte for Luke!"

"Wait," he looked surprise, "You know us?"

"Uh.." I bit my lower lip, "My friend's a huge fan!" I lied. I AM A FAN, YOU FOOL.

"Oh," he chuckled, "Okay. That's great!"

"Yeah... So.. I heard you were dating someone.. Like my friend was saying.. I mean its OK if you don't wanna tell me, like, we don't even know each other!"

"I'm not dating anyone," he chuckled, "Those are rumors,"

"OH MY GOD THAT'S GREAT!" I excalimed, "I mean.. my friend would be so happy!"

He smiled and paid as I returned the change and he sat on the sofa, waiting for his order to be ready.

"Hey," Michael smiled and looked over at the menu again.

"Haiiii," I said, trying not to drool.

"So, what's good in here?" He asked.

"That's exactly what I was wondering!" I said, "Like, you aren't a Starbucks fan! I was thinking what made you come here!"

"Your friend's a huge fan, isn't she?" He smirked.

"Uh," I laughed nervously, "all she talks about is you guys!"

"Is she coming to our concert in London, then?" he asked.

"Ummmm..." I sighed, I wanted to go so bad. But I didn't have the money for it, "I don't think she has the money for it,"

"That sucks!" he genuinely frowned, "Anyway, I don't like PSL, what else can I have?"

"Ummm.." I thought, "Do you like frappè or lattè?"

"What is the difference?" he raised an eyebrow.

I just shrugged and he chuckled.

"You have something like...exotic?" he asked.

"Exotic?" I laughed, "you should try the Classic Chai Tea Latte,"

"What's it got?"

"Classic Chai Tea Latte is the aromatic flavors of chai tea have their roots in the ancient Ayurvedic tradition of India, where roadside tea merchants can be found preparing black tea with traditional healing spices like cardamom, cinnamon and black pepper,"

"That sounds great, did you memorize it?" he asked.

"Yes," I flustered.

He chuckled, "I'll have that, then,"

"Okay. Classic Chai Tea Latte for Michael."