The Girl is Mine • MJ Fanfic • COMPLETED

Eight: If It's Meant To Be

One Week Later - March 19, 1988

"How was your trip?" My mother asked as I walked into the living room of their brownstone. She had a smile on her face as she looked at me.

"It was fine," I said simply as I stood there. "I brought you all some gifts," I added holding up the shopping bags that contained the things I got them from St. Louis. "Where is everybody?" I asked as I walked over and sat with her.

"Your father is on call at the hospital, and Camille and Christian should be home any minute now," she explained. I nodded as I got comfortable on the couch. I eyed my mother curiously when I noticed she was staring at me.

"What?" I asked trying to laugh it off.

"How are you? How's everything?" She asked.

"Everything's fine. I'm fine." I told her.

Instead of immediately responding, she just stared at me. "Then why don't I believe that?" She asked raising her eyebrow.

"Mom," I sighed.

"Lauren," she said calmly. "I get it, you may not want to talk to me about what's going on, but I know something's bothering you," she said. I looked at her remaining silent as I nodded my head. "What is it, boy trouble?" She asked raising her eyebrow.

"Mom, please," I groaned.

"What? Am I wrong?" She asked laughing lightly. "You know you can talk to me about these things," she continued. I was a bit skeptical about telling her everything, but I knew it wouldn't be a bad thing. Honestly, I could probably use her opinion right now.

"It is boy trouble," I admitted.

"You don't say," my mother said sarcastically, and I jokingly rolled my eyes.

"It seemed like a good thing, then things changed," I explained without really explaining.

"Changed how?" She asked.

"I don't really know," I told her honestly. "It all happened so fast, and I blame myself." I admitted.

"Why do you blame yourself?" she asked. I sighed as I felt myself tearing up.

"I blame myself because I didn't fight as hard as I could have. I just accepted things for what they were despite my gut feeling telling me otherwise," I explained. It had been a week since everything transpired, and I'd been beating myself up ever since we got back.

I hated myself for accepting defeat. I hate myself because I still have mixed feelings about it all. I wanted to believe that Michael had nothing to do with this, but I also couldn't shake the thought of him being responsible for all of this.

"Well is it too late to try and fix it?" My mom asked.

I sighed, "I'm not sure I even know how to fix it," I answered truthfully. I had no way to talk to Michael, unless I traveled to the next city where his show would be. But even then, how the hell would I gain access to see him?

"So tell me more about this boy," my mom spoke up.

"Well," I sang as I looked around. "He's sweet, kind, honest, and pure. He was becoming a great friend. He's caring and he has a great sense of humor. He's fine and he makes me feel safe and comfortable." I continued. "And he's older, but not too old," I added.

"How old?" She asked raising her eyebrow ignoring everything else I said.

"Not that old," I said reassuring her. She didn't respond, she kept that same look on her face . "He's 29, but he'll be 30 this year. That's only five years because I'm turning 25." I tried to reason.