Damn, You're Cute (Michael Clifford)

Chapter 58

*LEAH'S P.O.V.*

I hated to do this to myself and to Michael again. As I walked into school with slumped shoulders and a permanent frown, I couldn't help but think about Abigail's story. You'd have thought I would've learned better by now with her but one question was stuck in my head: was she lying, or was she actually telling the truth this time?

The thought of Michael with red-rimmed eyes, an oddly calm yet horrifyingly different personality under the influence of drugs scared me. I kept thinking about his safety and health, as motherly like as that sounded.

I decided to take a different approach than last time, and not let the story sit. I would confront Michael as soon as I saw him, which was in the hallway, first thing in the morning.

He was placing books inside his locker in his tight jeans and oversized black shirt. His backpack was on its side on the hard floor of the school, while his hair was nearly styled today. It still had its quirky characteristics, but it was less messy like yesterday because he kept tugging at it.

I marched over to him, stopping directly beside him and said, "We need to talk."

"Well, good morning to you to," he laughed, but the look on my face revealed that I didn't find him funny. His goofy grin disappeared and he raked his eyes over me. "Okay, um, give me one minute."

He stuffed his backpack in his locker, shutting it carefully before turning to me. His green eyes were glinted with worry, and his mouth was twisted into a small frown.

"What's wrong?" Michael asked quietly and led me toward the end of the hallway with his hand on the small of my back where we could avoid our other classmates. He then stuffed his hands inside his pockets, rolling his shoulders toward me in his usual stance.

"How's Ashton?" I decided to stray from the topic of Abigail for the time being since he seemed oddly happy this morning, despite being in school, which was like his personal hell.

Michael furrowed his eyebrows and licked his bottom lip before saying, "He's pretty torn up right now. Why, what's going on?"

"Nothing, I was just wondering," I looked down at his black converse and then at my own shoes, dreading the topic that I knew we'd have to talk about eventually. I had such courage and confidence when I first saw him but now I just wanted to spend a nice, relaxing day with Michael, joking around and having fun. I knew today wouldn't be one of those days if I proceeded.

"Leah, talk to me," Michael said, taking my small hand in his bigger one. I watched how our fingers locked together before sighing softly.

"I was alone with Abigail for a little last night," I told him and saw his face pale, his hand squeezing mine a bit tighter. "And she told me some things."

"God, not this again!" Michael let go of my hand, pulling on his red locks and instantly making it messy. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling before he calmed down and they bore into mine, pleading for me not to say something that would cause an argument.

A silence fell over us and I bit my lip, looking at his face. I could almost picture the red, puffy eyes that would complement his hair and the loose limbs like his long legs that would cause him to stumble throughout the house.

"What did she tell you?" he asked in a frighteningly quiet voice.

"She told me you lied. That you didn't tell the full story," I began but before I could finish, Michael's pale face grew into one with hints of red in his cheeks. His expression held frustration, and mostly at me for even considering Abigail's words.

He crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest and in a hushed yet angry tone he said, "Damn it, Leah! I thought we've been over this!"

He was right. I should never trust Abigail but something about her seemed so true to me last night. Something about the way she told me felt too real to be fake.