condom - l.h [discontinued]

0.8

i posted this a few minutes ago, but here it again because there were some minor mistakes that i needed to fix (-:

(i'm not going to be writing Hazel's name at the start of every chapter anymore bc some people keep commenting on that part saying 'grace lancaster' and it annoys the shit out of me like can u pls do us all a favor and go fuck yourself thx)

After exhaling deeply, she made her way slowly down the corridor from her bedroom to the living room, where she found her father sitting on the couch. Both his legs rested lazily on the glass coffee table in front of him, with a cup of coffee next to that. He held a newspaper between his fingers, and his reading glasses sat at the bridge of his nose as he read the latest articles.

"Dad," Hazel spoke loudly, trying to gain his attention, "I'm going out now."

Her father looked up from the paper, and a smile was quickly tugged on his lips at the sight of his daughter. "Remind me where you are going again?" her father asked, arching an eyebrow upwards.

"I'm going out with Michael," Hazel answered, for the hundredth time that day.

"Michael Clifford?" her father quizzed in interest, placing the newspaper on the vacant space next to him on the leather couch.

"No," Hazel rolled her eyes, "Michael Jackson."

Her father breathed out a small laugh, "Be back by nine, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Hazel nodded, as she stepped near the front door, then walked out of the apartment, shutting the door lightly behind her. She stood in front of the apartment door and just straightened out her outfit, making sure it looked presentable enough for a slightly fancy dinner date with Michael.

She looked beautiful, wearing a sheer, mint blue, collared blouse, that was paired with black skinny jeans and dark blue pumps, with her short blonde hair left down.

The continuous clicking of her pumps against marble flooring irritated her, and she mentally wished she could go back upstairs and change into some comfortable flats, but it was too late. Hazel was already seated in Michael's car, Runaways by The Killers playing on the radio, which both of them sang softly to.

Michael looked absolutely amazing, to say the least. It didn't surprise her that he had a black band-shirt on, because let's face it, he couldn't go a day without wearing one. A black blazer was worn on top of that and he also wore his usual black skinny jeans, with fancy dress shoes. It amazed Hazel, really, because Michael honestly did not realize how beautiful he actually was; he'd look perfect without even putting an effort into his appearance.

"You look really nice, by the way," complimented Hazel, smiling at Michael, who was too busy focusing on the road ahead him as he drove carefully.

"Aw," Michael gushed, "Stop it, you!"

Hazel began giggling maniacally, holding on her stomach that hurt from laughing at how adorable he was acting that night. He seemed so excited, as if everything that he had done the past eighteen years of his life added up to this very moment, and Hazel felt so special, and she hasn't felt that way in a very long time.

"I'm kidding," he grinned, turning to face Hazel for a quick second, "You look absolutely stunning."

Hazel muttered a quiet thank you as she looked down at her lap nervously. It all felt strange to her; she was in a car, on her way to have a dinner date with Michael Clifford, a boy she'd been crushing on since the day they'd met.

The car came to a stop once Michael successfully parked it near the entrance to the small Italian restaurant they were having dinner at. Michael surprised Hazel by intertwining their fingers together as they slowly walked towards the door, both of them having large smiles stitched onto their faces.