Grease • muke • part of the reality series•

Chapter Two : Michael

He was wearing sneakers, and not the cool kind, the kind your Mom buys you in third grade because your green ones were getting too tight and she knew your favorite color of the week was blue. In fact, his entire outfit, from his logo-less sweatshirt down to his khaki pants looked like they'd been picked out by a middle aged woman, or a retail employee.

The dude was pale, almost humorously so, it was a shame he was a guy, if he were a girl he could have saved a lot of money on makeup and used flour or baby powder instead. He also had acne, a lot of it, so much so that if I were him I would build myself an underground bunker and live in it, but it wasn't on me, it was on him, and for some odd reason I couldn't really explain it seemed to be a part of his face as his lips or his nose and I found myself struggling to imagine his face without the blemishes.

He was cute, in an odd way, not sexy, not cute but intriguing and I couldn't force my gaze from him, not even when he turned my way. His entire body stiffening and his feet slamming down on the pavement, his cheeks reddening as he hastily looked away.

He scowled down at the pavement for several seconds, as if reading something on the ground before chancing a glance back at me and quickly turning away finding my gaze still trained on him.

I felt bad then, realizing I was making him self conscious, and so tried to rectify the situation.

"Your shoelace is untied."

Looking thoroughly confused, the poor guy glanced around frantically, then nodded, did a half shrug and rocked awkwardly before replying, "I'm Sorry, what?"

Feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment I tried again slightly louder, this time gesturing down to my foot, "Your shoelace is untied."

Still not hearing me, he gave me an apologetic look then, rising to his feet edged closer to me, "I'm really sorry, I didn't..."

"Your shoelace." I blurted out, pointing at his foot, "Your shoelace."

Seeming both relieved and embarrassed, he hastily mumbled a rushed thank you and bending down so fast I marveled that he didn't pass out from being lightheaded he tied it.

He sat down again after that, trying hard to pretend I didn't exist, an effort he failed when I rose to my feet and shuffled across the space between us.

"Can I sit?"

Looking scared, he nodded.

"I'm Michael."

"Luke....I'm Luke, I wasn't just randomly...you probably...never mind."

Cocking an eyebrow I nodded slowly, trying to hide my smirk, "You smoke?"

Seeming offended and mortified at the very idea, Luke opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again before finally blurting out, "I had cancer."

I had two options here; pity the poor little scrawny invalid like he'd undoubtedly been his whole life, or throw him a curve ball.

I chose the latter, "You didn't answer my question."

He dropped the ball, "Smoking is one of the leading causes of cancer?"

"And driving is the leading cause of car accidents."

"That is not the same thing."

"Eating is the leading cause of choking, walking is the leading cause of falling, living is the leading cause of death, everyday you live you get a little closer to dying."

"Who are you?" Luke said slowly, looking at me like I was about he wanted to squish.

"Michael." I repeated, tapping my cigarette, sparks and ash floating to the ground like snow.