Mickey's Lessons on Bad

Lesson 29: No Invites Means Crashing

 *

“I feel like such a whore.”

       Mickey’s head snapped to the side while his eyes narrowed at the girl leaning against the locker beside his, staring at the crowds of people walking through the halls.

       She was wearing a red, one-shoulder shirt that had the word 'PUNK' printed out across the chest in black. She had on black leggings that had a short, red and black plaid skirt over it with a chain draped around her waist. She was wearing a pair of dark gray converse, fortunately not needing to wear the ankle brace anymore. Her brown hair was in curls, mainly from the constant mess Mickey made every time they made out, and had loosely on his favorite, black beanie.

    Michelle must’ve not realized she said that out loud when she met his amber eyes, red becoming the color of her slightly paled cheeks. “Did I say that out loud?” she asked, biting her lower lip while wearing a nervous smile.

       Most times, Mickey would find her nervousness cute and adorable– but from what she just said accidentally, he was more annoyed than anything else. “And why do you think that?” he inquired, resisting the urge to snap at her.

       “Nothing,” she answered with a smile forced on her pretty face– on her delicious lips.

       "You may've use that shit with O'Connors," he said, closing his locker after grabbing a few books. He swiftly grabbed her hand and interlaced their fingers together, leading her to her science class. "But it doesn't work on me, so tell me why."

       "It was just a silly thought, Mickey, I swear!"

       "Minnie," he said, using a low, warning tone.

       Michelle, blushing from the nickname, slumped against his side. "Just a thought from all the looks I've been receiving since we came to school together, all couple-y," she answered, following a sigh. "I mean c'mon. The second quarter didn't end yet and I'm switching between two guys like five times already."

       "Do you not remember the lesson of not caring?" Also known as the lesson that you completely blew me off, because Ronnie was a dumb ass, he added as a mental note.

       He noticed the guilt in her face when she answered quietly, "Yes."

       Mickey swung their hands obnoxiously high, not caring if he would hit someone.

       "Don't do that!" Michelle scolded, hitting his shoulder with her own. It didn't hurt the slightest bit. "You'll hit someone."

       "I really want to hit whoever was looking at you with dirty looks," he countered nonchalantly.

       She must've not realized she was speaking her thoughts again, but she had a far look on her face as she said, "It kinda reminds me of yesterday when I ran into that group of girls at the top of the staircase."

       "Ew. Them?"

       Those blue orbs widened a bit and she nodded, knowing better than to lie and deny. "Yeah. They were all hating on me, because I'm your girlfriend and not Chrissie," she explained.

       He stiffened at the sound of Ronnie's sister's name. Nothing was more awkward than hearing your girlfriend talk about your ex that taught you almost everything you knew about everything so casually. "I'm not surprised," he murmured quietly, flickering his eyes to the floor. "They are, um, like that."

       Suddenly, giggles came from his left and Mickey looked over at Michelle to see her smiling at him.

       Eyebrows knitting together, he inquired, "What's so funny?"