12 Months//michael clifford short story

june

The plane ride had felt like it was never going to end.

From Ohio, to New York, it also costed a lot.

In the end though, it was okay.

I had finally graduated. It was as if I had been waiting forever. Of course, that wasn't true. I had only decided to go last year. But since then, it was as if school didn't matter. I was busy making plans and working the extra shifts at the local Kroger's to care.

I shifted through the crowds of people, and eventually received my gray and white suitcase.

I had made plans to stay at a motel near here. With 500 crisp dollars in my pocket, I felt like I could stay here for awhile. I had worked so hard for this.

'

My family didn't really approve though. But they couldn't really stop me. I was 18, and just graduated. I was unstoppable.

I don't even know why I decided to come to New York. So many girls had dreamed of this, and I guess I wanted to prove that I could. The rush of adrenaline I felt when I walked down the crowded New York streets added to this. It was crazy.

I didn't have to depend on anyone. I stopped at a hot dog vendor on the corner of the street, and paid for it myself. It was all me.

It was when I stopped at a small coffee shop where I met him.

I hadn't even went to the Motel yet. I had been walking around until my legs were sore, exploring. Something I had never done before.

I didn't even intend to buy anything, I had to save my money until I could get a job. I just had to go to the bathroom.

I ran in, dragging my suitcase behind me, feeling like a little kid still in Elementary School. The place smalled of coffee beans and the wheels on my suitcase made clacking noises over the brown tiles. The whole place, was brown. Varying shades of brown, all over. It was nice.

My eyes scanned the small room, until they landed on the doors at the end of the room. Sighing in relief, I all but ran to the doors, not caring if I made a scene.

I opened the swinging doors, until a voice stopped me.

"What are you doing?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Going to the bathroom?" What did it look like.

The guy behind the counter rolled his brown eyes. He was short with muddy brown hair and an unnatractive overall appearance. "You can't go unless you order something."

"Are you kidding me?'

He shakes his head.

This was something I didn't expect. It was never like this in Ohio. I didn't know how much longer I could go, my bladder was killing me.

I looked at the menu.

No way.

The prices here were crazy. So I started rolling my bag again, I could find somewhere else, or cut my day to a close and go back to the motel.

"No, wait!"

I look behind me. The voice belonged to a guy with black hair. It was mussed up in every way, and his bright eyes looked at me questioningly.

"What?" I ask, unsure if he was even talking to me.

"I'll buy you something. Go to the bathroom." He says, smiling. I noted the way his eyes crinkled and his bright lips.

"Are you sure?" I ask, widening my eyes. I read somewhere that people in New York were rude. Aren't they supposed to be rude?

He was already at the counter.

"You're a douche, Rian." He tells the guy behind the counter, looking behind his shoulders to wink at me. "I'll get a large coffee for her."

"I can kick you out, Michael."

"You never do."

We talked. And talked.

His name was Michael and he was in a band. Nobody knew of them yet, but Michael was sure they would get big. Someday.

His favorite color was green, which was odd that he's living in New York. New York was gray. Not a bit of green to be seen.

He drank a lot of coffee. That's how he knew Rian so well.

He was single.

He dyed his hair a lot. It was currently black.

He was 20 years old.

He didn't talk to his parents anymore.

Michael seemed interesting, and a nice guy.

We kept drinking coffee, and soon enough I realized it had been 2 hours.

I told him I had to go-it was going to get dark soon and I had to get to my motel. I didn't even know if I could afford a taxi. Once I got here, everything seemed much more expensive than I thought.

"Or you could stay at mine?" He says, raising an eyebrow.

"I really can't." I say, smiling, as I grabbed my bag.

"Think about it. It's free. A motel isn't." He shrugs.

He had a point.

I don't know why I said yes.

I really wanted to.

My first act of rebellion, I guess.

My mom would have shit herself if she had known.

"Sure."