Your Girlfriend
Michelle scanned the party through narrowed eyes, shrugging off everyone her age drinking until they were even more stupid, if that was possible. Trying to refocus on her book, her eyes lingered on the living room couch despite her best efforts. Your shoulders shrunk deep into the cushions, as if you were trying to disappear completely. Even though your boyfriend slung his arm over you, it wasn’t loving, it was possessive. His thumb scrolled past message after message, all from other girls he continually claimed were “just friends.”
The lights were dimmed, music turned up so high the vibrations sept into your ears, making them throb. You stared blankly ahead at the swarm of teens dancing so close, spilling their colored plastic cups filled to the brim with repelling concoctions of alcohol and something else.
Michelle couldn’t tear her eyes apart from you, from your slightly trembling lips to the unnoticeable teardrop rolling off the side of your cheeks. You practically screamed lonely, and he didn’t even seem to care. She didn’t know much of you, but she already knew you weren’t like the rest. A pang of pity swept through her chest before she could push the feeling off; Michelle never liked revealing her emotions. Bringing the book up to hide her face, she finally dropped it back to her lap, deciding to give up on the complicated words altogether.
Nervous energy traveled to her shaking fingertips as she returned her gaze to the couch, your previously filled spot now empty. She flew to her feet, shoving past sweaty bodies to find where you had gone to. Catching a glimpse of your blush-pink sweater, her long legs rushed to meet you, even though she didn’t have a single clue of what to say. The bathroom door swung wide open, then slammed shut just as she reached the spot.
Pressing an ear to the wooden door, MJ could make out muffled cries and inward gasps for breath. She pulled away, feeling like an intruder as she turned around to leave you be, but her feet stuck to the ground, legs stiff and immovable. Sighing, she quickly spun on her heels, hand gripping the doorknob for a mere second before pushing the door open and slipping in. Your head jerked up as you leaned across the countertop, water pouring out from the sink to splash onto your flushed cheeks.
“Sorry I–I forgot to lock the door,” you stuttered, lifting your arm to grab for a tissue. Michelle dived forward, pulling it out of the box to hand it to you herself. Accepting the unusual kind gesture from her, your breath hitched as your fingers brushed against hers. She gently wrapped them around yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze and a warmth wandered up throughout your whole body. Fist enclosing over hers, Michelle watched the way your chest rose up and fell back down rapidly, not sure of what that meant for the two of you.
In fear she snapped her hand back to her side, taking a giant stride backward, distancing herself from the way your touch made her heart beat faster than it should. The words tumbled from her full lips before she could hold them back and reconsider their weight.
“He’s a dick and I– someone, could treat you better than that,” Michelle blurted out, feeling paralyzed at her slip-up and hoped you wouldn’t notice. You definitely noticed, choosing to pretend you hadn’t to make the situation less awkward.
Your throat dried up, words sticking to the roof of your mouth like glue, and all you could do was bob your head up and down speechless. Frightened by the effect you had on each other, she nodded back before ducking out the door as quickly as she had came in. Sinking back against the wall, you slid down to the floor, picking up your hand to examine, the butterflies still tingling over your palms.
***
Stepping into english class, your eyes immediately fell on Michelle, cowering in a desk in the back row immersed in another thick book. She didn’t even blink as you slid into the desk next to her, just buried her face deeper into the crisp, white pages. A tiny frown passed over your lips until you forced the corners of your mouth up into a persistent smile.
A couple strands escaped her low ponytail, the brown curls falling over her face and covering up the smirk threatening to break free. Sensing the change in her emotions, you dragged the desk along the tiles to barely skim hers. She snapped the covers of the book tightly closed, tilting her head to the side to finally acknowledge your presence.
“I sit back here to get away from people distracting me,” MJ exhaled deeply. You chose not to let her comment phase you, and you scooted your legs to brush up against hers under the desk. To your surprise, she didn’t flinch away, even rested her knee on yours. Tipping forward, you tucked her loose strands behind her ear, using the opportunity to whisper into her ear.
“So you find me distracting, Michelle?” you spoke softly, placing a sweet undertone on her name that sent chills down her hunched-over spine. Your fingernails rapped one by one in a rhythm over the top of the desk, the sound echoing in the space between you. Every other person faded out in the background, all you could concentrate on was the way she bit back her bottom lip to keep from blushing. A faint pink dispersed across her round cheeks, and a proud grin filled up your features.
Turning to face the front of the classroom, you tore a slip of paper out from your notebook and scrawled a quick message on it. Not meeting her eyes, you stuck it right in between the pages of her treasured book, excitement making your heart pound in your chest. Stealing a glance at her, she simply pushed the book to the edge of the desk, making your heart drop and she refused to return your look. Tapping the floor with the tips of your toes, you anxiously swiveled your attention back and forth between the front of the room and the note hanging out of the pages. Michelle knew what she was doing to you, and she loved it.
Finally, she nonchalantly removed the slip of paper, opening up the fold to read what lay underneath.
Can I distract you a little more after school today? -Y/N
Michelle turned her chin to face you, instead of nodding a response like you hoped, she tapped her finger on the cover of her book, shutting down your courageous proposal. Eyes remaining glued to her, your mouth crept down into a pout, praying it would be enough to sway her. Her eyes flicked upward into an annoyed roll, yet she caved in, giving you a slight nod. She tried to play it off like no big deal, but the grin plastered on her face gave away her true feelings.
***
MJ watched eagerly as you paced around her room, marveling at the countless bookshelves stacked high with novels, packed so densely there wasn’t space to cram a single new book into them. Lining the sides of the shelves and any free wall space were random sketches, the edges torn and frayed, but the drawings incredible nonetheless.
She pulled her knees into her chest, hiding her sketchbook as her pencil flew over the paper in all directions, desperate to capture you in a rough sketch she could reminisce at later. Picking up on her secret drawing, you dramatically sprawled onto the foot of her bed, resting your head on your arms and fluttering your eyelashes at her. Michelle scowled to cover up the light, fluffy contentment building in the pit of her stomach.
“MJ, paint me like one of your French girls,” you giggled, a cute laugh gushed from her upturned lips.
Crawling up next to her, she let her legs extend out and she closed the sketchbook, casting it to the side of the bed. You pulled your sleeve over your wrists, exposing a patch of skin near your collarbone. Not thinking, she reached out to graze over your shoulder with the tips of her fingers, the friction soft and wholesome. Eyes widening, your forehead tipped forward, barely skimming the surface of hers. Her lips parted and eyelids fluttered closed, waiting for you to break the space between your lips.
A ping from your phone buzzing in your back pocket snapped you out of the dreamy haze, both of you jumped and you pulled it out to see a missed call from your boyfriend. Michelle read the notification, instantly she rolled over away from you, pulling her sketchbook into her chest for comfort.
“It’s him, better answer it,” she sarcastically spat, in an attempt to cover up the tears welling up in the deep corners of her chocolate brown eyes. Pressing your body against hers, you leaned over the top of her, a few strands from your hair draping over her waist. She snapped open her eyes, blinking repeatedly thinking she wasn’t understanding you clearly. Bringing your thumb to stroke the side of her cheek, you wiped away a stray tear and relaxed her worries.
“I’m not going to pick up the phone,” you emphasized, a pleased look passed over her face before she looked away, shrugging her shoulders up and down.
“Do whatever, I don’t really care,” Michelle’s lie rolled off the tip of her tongue, both of you knowing it was far from the truth. Rolling your eyes, you cupped her chin with in your palms.
“For god’s sake MJ!”
Her breath halted at your exasperated groan, innocently peering into your eyes like she didn’t understand the frustration. Not wasting another second to pretend, your lips crashed into hers, sending her head back into the pillow as she reached out to grip onto your lower hips. Chest to chest, heat spread from her heart to yours like it was a secret nobody else would need to know but you. Your fingers sensationally ran through her messy brunette curls, pulling her up to kiss you as close as she could get. Her lips faintly reminded you of the sugary taste of honey, the urge to lick your lips and savor the flavor felt surreal.
Another ring from your phone made Michelle lunge for the device hanging loosely out of your jean pocket. Switching the power off, she chucked it to the floor in a far corner, earning a laugh from your lips. She smiled widely with a hint of danger, with awareness of what was happening, yet not a care in the world. He didn’t deserve you, didn’t see the perfect Michelle saw the moment she laid eyes on you.
“You’re so much better than him, MJ,” you let slip, expecting to feel guilt but felt none. Being with her felt more right than anything else, more alive than you’d ever been with him.
“I know, now kiss me again, Y/N.