I want to say that I've never given much thought to the way I'd die, just like Bella Swann said in Twilight; because that's a pretty dramatic, deep thing to say. But the truth was, I thought about dying all the time. Not in a sad way but more-so out of curiosity. I wondered about how and when I'd draw my last breath and if it was sooner or later than I thought. Imagine if we all knew the exact day and time that we would pass. Would we live differently?
A few days later after that night at the pier, I thought I was going to die. I'd never been a super over-the-top kind of person but that morning, my whole life played through my mind like this was it, this was the end.
I'd woken up to some kind of strange noise. It sounded like someone was throwing their weight against my front door. A banging around kind of noise. A noise that sounded like someone was trying to get into my apartment.
I lay in bed for a few minutes, figuring that I was half-dreaming about it and that it'd stop as soon as I woke up properly. There was no need to panic and the sheets I was wrapped in were too comfortable to sacrifice when nothing was wrong.
But then my mind flooded with thoughts of Carlos. He was wandering the LA streets, possibly looking for me. What if he'd found me?
I sat upright in a matter of seconds, my heart beating so fast that I almost felt light-headed.
Breathe, Charlotte. There's nothing to worry about.
Getting out of bed was a shaky exercise and it took way longer than it should have to pull a big blue jumper over my cream coloured pajamas just because I was so freaking stressed. I'd never really been a religious person but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't prayed as I walked down the hallway.
I could see the front door. The banging had stopped and now I could watch as the locked door handle was rattled, as though someone was trying to turn and open it. White hot panic swam through me and I could feel all of the blood leave my face. I wasn't dreaming or imagining this. Someone was trying to break into my apartment.
Back at home, my dad would have been the one to go and check on everything while my mother and I waited together for the all clear. I'd been kind of stupid coming to this big place by myself; I'd been too quick-thinking and hadn't thought certain things through. This was one of those things: what would I do if I was physically in danger?
I opened a kitchen drawer slowly, reaching in and picking out a steak knife. It was small and serrated and probably wouldn't be any use at all if Carlos or one of his men were here for me. Still, it made me feel that little bit better as I held it out in front of me.
The handle suddenly stopped rattling and I could hear heavy footsteps move across the landing just outside my door.
Did they know I had a weapon and decide they didn't want to go up against me?
My lips twitched, begging to smile at the thought of that. Surely if it were someone sent by Carlos, or even Carlos himself, they'd know that I was a midget of a person and probably couldn't hurt someone if my entire life depended on it. Right then it kind of did.
Had they left to go get something to bust through the wood? Oh god, was this my only chance to get out and run the fuck away?
Loud knocking on my door had me jumping about three feet into the air. I swung my knife back out in front of me, ready to slice anyone that forced entry into my home. A newfound adrenaline worked its way through me and I got so psyched up that I almost missed the voice that called out to me.
"Mals? Are you home?"
Michael. Clifford. Michael motherfucking Clifford.
You've got to be kidding me. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was this some kind of super messed up joke?
I took a few steps towards the door and sure enough it was his voice that I could hear. "Mali?"
Taking a deep breath, I pushed my knotty morning hair over my shoulder and exhaled slowly. It was just Michael.
I placed the knife I held down on one side of the kitchen counter before swinging open the door. The relief that flooded through me was almost too overwhelming. It felt like waking up from a nightmare. Only I'd been awake the whole time.
"Michael," I breathed, stepping into him so quickly that I think I caught him off-guard.
I wrapped my arms around his waist, crushing myself against his torso like my entire life depended on it. I don't think I could have made myself any closer to him if I'd tried. In that moment, he represented safety. The boy with the punk hair, the piercings, the tattoos, the band; he was familiar and safe and it was all I could do not to close my eyes and just breathe him in.
"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, hands on the sides of my face. He pulled back a little so that he could see me and frowned. "Why're you so pale?"
His eyes were really green.
"Someone was here," I said, looking away from him.
He pulled me back into him. "What do you mean?"
My cheek was pressed against his chest and my fingers were splayed against his back, nails playing briefly over the fabric of his denim jacket. "I swear someone was just here trying to get into my apartment."
"What, trying to break in?"
I nodded.
He let go and stepped around me, walking into my home. I watched as his eyes roamed the living room, as though someone might jump out from behind the television any second.
"I'm pretty sure they pissed off when they heard you coming," I told him. "Did you pass anyone on your way up the stairs?"
He shook his head, wandering down the hallway and checking each of the rooms. But no one was here and I could have told him that. Whoever it was lurking around hadn't made it past my locked front door. Still, it was nice having someone double check regardless of the pointlessness of the exercise. I liked the gesture. Michael was safety.
"Did you catch a glimpse of them? Hear their voice?" He asked, walking back towards me. His face was serious and I wanted him to say something funny, make a joke, take away that seriousness.
I shook my head. "All I could hear was someone literally trying to break my door down."
He leant back against my kitchen table, arms folded and cap on backwards like some kind of badass. "What if it was Carlos?"
I now folded my arms. "Thanks, that doesn't freak me out at all."
He smiled and it made me feel slightly better. "Maybe you should stay somewhere else for a bit."
I shook my head. "But I like it here."
He rolled his eyes. "Too bad, idiot. Come stay with us."
"I'm not barging in on you guys," I refused. "Besides, you're all leaving in a week or so anyway."
"At least stay with Liv," he countered. "I think she needs someone now anyway."
I rubbed my hands up and down my arms to try generate some heat. With the front door open, I was freezing. "How's she doing?"
"She's a fucking mess," he told me. "They both are."
I shook my head and thought back to the first time I'd met them – when they were both that crazy-in-love happy couple. Things went downhill so fast in just a couple of weeks, it was shocking. I guess that was the thing with love; so unpredictable and temperamental. The whole idea of falling in love with someone scared the hell out of me. I didn't know how I'd cope if I ever invested myself completely in someone and then had to deal with a fallout.
I looked to Michael. "It's not really over, is it?"
All he could do was shrug. "I've got no clue but I think he's gonna make a last ditch effort to bring her on our next tour."
"When's that?"
"We go home for a week, then come back to LA for a couple of weeks and then leave for two months," he explained. "Ash wants Liv to come with us. I mean, they're clearly not on speaking terms right now so she doesn't know about it but that's what he's told us."
I didn't want them to go on tour again. I didn't want Liv to leave either. The whole thing sounded so miserable and I wanted to ask him right then and there if they all could just stay. But obviously it was his job and there was nothing he or I could do about it. They would all leave and it would just have to suck.
"I think that's a good idea," I said truthfully. For their relationship it was probably the best thing they could do. It would give them time together, give Liv a break and hopefully by the time they got back, everything would be smoothed over. I'd just have to find other people to hang around and annoy while they were all gone.
I'd still have Mel.
"What were you after anyway?" I asked Michael, thinking back to the whole point of his visit – other than to scare away whoever it was that was trying to rob me.
He ran a hand down his face and for a second he looked so freaking young. Too young to be as famous as he was.
Glancing up, he threw me a big smile. "I wanna take you out."
My own smile faltered and I felt heat rush to my cheeks. "What do you mean?"
"Take you out," he repeated. "On a date."
Melissa's got dibs on Michael. I hated that that was the first thing to go through my head. I didn't even get to decide whether or not I wanted to go on a date with Michael because I was already too busy stressing about how Melissa would feel. Girls don't do that to their friends. Even though Mel had never come right out and told me that she had feelings for Michael, it was obvious. And I got it; I totally understood why. The more time I spent around Michael, the more attractive he became.
"Michael, I-"
"Hey, don't you wanna know where we're going before you say no?" He asked, cutting me off.
How did he know I was about to say no?
I shook my head. It didn't matter where he wanted to go because I couldn't go with him anyway. Not only did I wanna stay friends with Mel but I was lying to him about everything. I couldn't date someone, start something – whatever the hell this was – under a false name. It wasn't fair to him or even myself. The whole thing was a complete mess and I could not afford to love someone like him. I could not afford to let myself do anything like that: it wasn't why I came to LA.
"Mikey, I can't," I said and for the briefest second I wished that I'd been murdered earlier by Carlos because then I wouldn't have had to watch his face drop.
He composed himself almost instantly though and shot me a smile. "You called me 'Mikey'; you trying to let me down easily?"
I shrugged. That nickname, his nickname that everyone else used, had just slipped out like it belonged naturally on my tongue. I hadn't even thought about it. "If you want, I'm about to make breakfast. You're welcome to stay."
Truth be told, I didn't want him to leave. Sue me.
"A breakfast date?"
I grinned and shook my head. "No dates, just toast."
"Can it be a half date?" He pressed. "I mean, we are sharing a meal together – as shit as that meal might be."
I laughed outright, opening a cupboard in my little kitchen and pulling out the white shiny toaster that Eddie had supplied me with. "Hey, if it's so shitty you can leave."
He sat down at my table though, leaning his arms on the wood. "You don't serve people toast on dates."
I rolled my eyes and plugged in the appliance. "That's because this isn't a date."
"What is it then?"
"This is two friends sharing a nice breakfast together before a busy day," I said, shooting him a smirk.
He chuckled. "A nice breakfast? Toast is boring as hell, you're not putting any effort into this."
I popped two pieces of bread in and pushed the lever down. Turning around, I leant back against the counter and folded my arms, staring at him. "You're a lousy house guest."
He rested his chin on the palm of his hand. "You're snappy and cute in the morning."
My cheeks heated again and I turned back around. "I'm cute all the time."
He laughed and the sound made me smile. My little home got kind of quiet sometimes and it was those times that I missed my parents. It was the background noises that I missed the most about living with people; I missed hearing the kettle boil and smelling my dad's coffee brewing at 5am. I missed dirty dishes on the sink, letting the world know that people live here, there are people in this house. Which is why it was so nice to have Michael sitting at my table, keeping me company. Especially after my earlier fright.
"I would say you're cute ninety percent of the time," he told me. "The ten percent where you're not cute is when you refuse to go on a date with me."
I rolled my eyes and popped the toast, spreading butter over it and watching it melt. "Is this how you always get when girls turn you down?"
He chuckled. "Only when girls called Mali turn me down."
My name's not Mali.
"What are you doing today?" I asked, changing the subject and smothering the toast in front of me in Nutella.
I passed him a slice on a plate and sat down across from him.
"Thanks, dear," he said in a voice that I assumed was him trying to sound old and weathered.
He took a bite while I poked my tongue out at him.
"Today you were supposed to come out with me," he told me through a mouthful. "But I guess you're no fun."
I grinned. "We can still hang out, just don't get the wrong idea."
"I've already gotten the wrong idea," he answered. "You made me breakfast, I'm a goner."
I laughed and almost choked on my food. "You're so full of shit."
He grinned and stuffed the remaining half of his toast into his mouth like the gentleman he was and stood up. "Let's hang out."
I took another bite and sat back in my chair. "No date."
He nodded. "No date. Just friends."
No harm in that, right?
a/n: filler chapter!! but a chapter's a chapter, right??? hey thanks for all ur support, honestly like i read every single one of ur comments and they make my life - i love seeing what parts ur into so that i can add in more ykwim? love ur feedback, love ur votes, love u all x