Storm 》Clifford A.U

009;

     "LOOKS LIKE DARYA and the guy she won't name finally had some monumental interaction," I mutter, analyzing the entry I had just finished reading.

     "Out loud, please." Michael responds, leaning back and guiding the steering wheel with only his left hand.

     "Dear diary, he kissed me. He actually did it. God, this feels so wrong. I k n o w it is completely, totally wrong but, is it bad that I don't care? I love running my fingers through his hair and the way he cups my face and giggles and smiles like I make him the happiest person in the world. It feels good to make someone smile like that, laugh like that. If I could give him the world, I would.

     "We were unloading boxes for Wesleyan's rendition of Legally Blonde and someone labeled one of them incorrectly. It was supposed to weigh seven pounds but it was actually more like seventeen, and I lifted wrong because I wasn't expecting the extra few pounds. I dropped the box and he was there; he laughed, shaking his head.

     "He put his box down and helped me pick mine up. We stood there for a few seconds and he reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my right ear. 'Is it bad that I want to kiss you right now? You're just so kissable' He mumbled, so quiet that I could barely hear him. And he put the bag down and with him staring at me the way that he was, I just couldn't take it. It was bad, so bad. But we did it anyways. And when we emerged from behind the curtains, proper boxes in toll, no one suspected a thing. Lucky for us, they never suspected anything."

     "What if someone did suspect something, though?"

     "I mean, they must have been pretty discreet about it if you didn't know it was going on." I say, still waiting for Michael to admit that he knew exactly who Darya was writing about. "You said you had a mutual friend and that's how to the two of you met. Is it possible that-"

     "No, Alina. For the last time, I don't know who she's talking about. Honestly. We're really good friends, but, we just hung around by ourselves. I don't know what other friends she had, or if she even had any besides me and whoever she's writing about. " And the mutual friend. He insists but even still, I can't bring myself to believe him.

     "Well, we know she wasn't friends with her roommate but we should still contact her and see if she knows anything."

     "Yeah, that's a good idea." He nods, pressing his tongue into his cheek. "Do the next one."

     "Dear Diary, I found the perfect place to hide this while I visit Montpelier; much safer than keeping it in the house. It'll be a bit of a nuisance to go to and from the restaurant before I go back up to Wesleyan, but it's worth it. I would be mortified if anyone read what I wrote. Besides, I get to spend time with Alina and there is absolutely nothing better than that. I wish I could tell her about him, but I know I can't. She wouldn't understand. Or, if she did, she probably wouldn't approve. But that's okay, I'll tell her eventually." I finish, shutting the journal and frowning; frustrated and sad and angry all at once.

     I wish that she were the slightest bit more specific or, at the very least, that one of these entries would give me answers rather than a gazillion more questions. "She never told me anything, Michael. Why wouldn't she tell me? I'm her sister, for fucks sake. You would think that if you had a boyfriend who you liked that much, you would tell your sister." I say again, shaking my head.

     "I'm sure she wanted to tell you and just had a good reason for not saying anything." He shrugs, pulling up into Wesleyan's parking lot, the giant wooden 'WELCOME' sign capturing my attention.

     "I just can't understand. Like, it doesn't make any sense, you know? She's told me secrets before, it's not like I didn't know how to keep them." I say quietly, running my fingers over the smooth cover of her journal.