Okay so guys im like trying to write in Michael's point of view, so its hard bc im not a guy... I don't know how guys think. But I will do my best I Love You all
I laid on the couch with Emily laying on my arm. It was all tingly and felt like needles. I wanted to move her but she was just so beautiful. i couldn't do it.
I smiled at her sleeping. Wow. So this is how it feels to love someone. I thought, what am i going to tell her when we have to go on tour? I thought to myself.
I sighed and closed my eyes. Why is this so hard?
"Mikey?" I heard Emily's soprano voice ask.
"Yes, my love?" I asked, opening my eyes.
"I'm hungry." She mumbled into my arm.
"Do you want to go out and get food?" I asked, smiling at her sprawled out on the couch, and hugging my arm.
"Yeah." she said, "But i don't have anything to wear."
"Hold on love." I said getting up and going upstairs. I went into my parents room and got a dress from my mum's closet.
"Here." I said coming back downstairs to Emily. "You should be the same size."
"What size?" She asked.
"Eight." I replied.
Emily went upstairs to change, and i remembered her bra and underwear were still in the dryer.
I ran to grab them, then back upstairs and into my room.
"Here, you forgot these." I said, handing them to her.
"Thank you. Now leave." She said, pushing me out of the door.
"But-" i started, but she slammed the door in my face.
I leaned up against the wall, waiting. A few minutes passed by and i knocked on the door. "You okay in there?" I asked.
The door opened and emily stepped out. "How do I look?" She asked.
Stunning i wanted to say. "Beautiful." I told her.
She really did. Emily was wearing a navy blue dress, that went just above the knee. It looked as if it was crocheted. The colour look amazing with her blonde hair too.
"Thank you." She blushed.
"My pleasure, darling." I offered her my arm and she took it.
"Are we taking the motorcycle?" She asked.
"No. I have a car too." I said, pressing a button to open the garage.
YOU ARE READING
Michael Clifford fan fic :D
FanfictionHe always hit on me, begged me to skip with him, and always told me how much he loved me. I was daddy's little girl. A goody-goody. But not anymore.
