Michael & Lucy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Lucy has been friends with Michael for six years, and been dating Andrew for six months. But maybe the romance isn't placed correctly...

P.S. Sorry if it seems unfinished! But it's how I chose to end it.

Submitted: June 11, 2011

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Submitted: June 11, 2011

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“Hey, Lucy?” Michael’s confused voice drifts out from the back room. I sigh.
“One second!” I yell back. I turn back to the older woman in front of the cash register. She’s looking upset and a little antsy. “How can I help you?”
“Uh,” Her eyes are a little glazed, and I wonder for a moment if I have a drunken grandmother on my hands. “I can’t find…,” She licks her lips, “the canned dog food.”
“What brand?” I ask politely. Her worn hands flutter up to her mouth.
“That’s just it,” She says, her eyes suddenly watering. She throws up her hands, exerting more energy than I thought she possibly could. “I don’t remember!”
And right then and there, she’s sobbing. Snot is drifting down her nose, only to have her suck it all back in before drizzling out again. I’m shocked, reaching around the register, searching for a box of tissues. I finally find the box Melanie left in there, grabbing it up and handing the old woman tissues.
“U-um,” I stutter.  I take only a moment to ponder this woman’s sanity before I take a deep breath. “Okay, ma’am. It’s fine! No problem. All of the canned dog food is in the same aisle.”
She’s starting to settle down, so I slip out from behind the cash register to escort her. “Why don’t you let me show you?” She nods her head and her crinkled fingers grab onto my wrist the way a child would crossing the street.
I lead her to aisle 4, the canned dog and cat food. She still seems a little frazzled, so I try to distract her. “What kind of dogs do you have?” I ask, feeling like I’m babysitting. Her hand is still gripping onto my wrist and I wonder when she’ll let go.
“A beagle.” She says, regaining her composure. She lets go of my wrist and I feel relieved. “Her name is Rosy.” She’s looking anxiously at the canned food and I sigh a little to myself.
“Then you’ll probably want to go with this one,” I say, picking up the pink can with the beagle on the front. I hope it’s a good guess. Her face lights up, relieved.
“Oh, thank you.” She says. She smiles, flashing me a not so great pair of dentures.
“No problem.” I reply. I walk away from her and take a look at my wrist. Holy cow, that woman had a grip.
Michael sees me approach and smiles knowingly.
“You suck,” I tell him. He laughs. “And you are also the proud cashier of register 6. No way am I ringing her up. I wouldn’t want to accidentally forget to give her a quarter.”
Michael laughs again and takes his place at the cash register. He looks back at me and I start heading back to the storage room. “You should’ve come back when I told you to,” he says. I look at him over my shoulder and stick my tongue out.
“Also,” he yells after me. “You got a call!” I freeze and my stomach does a flip. I turn as the older woman reaches the register.
“Who?” I ask him. He shrugs and grins, his brown eyes glittering.
“Sorry, I’m with a customer.” He winks and turns his back on me.
 
The woman is making her way out the door, her brown plastic bag in hand. The door beeps as she leaves. I grab Michael by the shoulder.
“Who was it?” I ask, and his eyes go wide with fake innocence.
“I can’t say I know what you mean,” he says, his mouth slowly forming into a wide grin.
“Michael,” I stare him hard in the eyes, “I. Will. Take. You. Down.” He laughs, more used to this than anyone else after six years. We met in sixth grade during the awkward transfer from elementary school to the dreaded middle school.
“Andrreeww…” He lengthens his name and grins wide. I reach around to hug him, and grab his cell phone out of his pocket.
“I knew you would do that!” He yells after me, laughing as I walk outside to make a call. I smile to myself and dial in his number.
“Hello?” His voice sounds excited.
“You called?” I grin.
“I did,” I can hear the smile in his voice. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Oh you know, the usual. Selling Michael’s body parts online and saving up for that pet monkey.” I tell him. He laughs.
“Figures. Does that mean you’re too busy to go to dinner at La Magica tonight?”
My heart wrenches. La Magica. One of the most expensive places to eat dinner. Ever.
“I suppose I could squeeze you in,” I say, a happy sigh at the end of my voice. Andrew is one of those boys your parents will love.
“Aww, thanks.” He says.
“No problem,” I tell him, grinning ear to ear. “I’ve gotta get back to work. Pick me up at 7?”
“Yea,” He says. Just as I’m about to end the call, he says, “And Lucy? Tonight’s important.” He goes silent. “Alright?” I pause.
“Okay.” We say our goodbyes and hang up. Andrew and I have been dating for six months, so I’m not sure what to expect tonight. We haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet. But I think he’s going to say it soon. I don’t know how I’ll respond yet. I mean, I like him. A lot. I honestly do. But I don’t think it’s love. Not yet, anyways.
I get back inside and tell Michael the good news. He smiles one of his infectious smiles. “Important night, huh?” He asks. I nod. “So dropping in and saying hi to get a taste of the food would be inappropriate?”
I laugh. “Yes.” I lightly punch his chest. “Get back to work, mister.”
At 7, I’ve finally finished getting my hair wavy, a task that took me nearly two hours. My makeup has been cleaned up four times, and I’ve switched outfits twelve times. 
My heart is racing when he picks me up. He leans over and kisses me on my cherry red mouth, lipstick that took forever to get just right. “You look beautiful,” He tells me, grinning. I smile back.
Andrew is blonde, but definitely not stupid. He knows how to make a girl feel special. Which can be a downside, because one smile from him sends any girl on the street into a frenzy. He has dark green eyes and is always a gentleman. He’s never pushed me too far, too fast. He opens doors for me, for God’s sake.
I like him a lot, like I said, but I’m not sure if I’m settling.
He opens the restaurant door for me (What? No way is this settling!) and we get seated.
“Lucy?” He says, interrupting our twenty minute conversation on the crazy woman in the pet store today. I look up at him and his eyes are hard on mine. I put down my biscuit.
“Andrew?” I wonder how this situation got so serious suddenly.
“I lo-“ He starts. I’m saved by the waitress who refills out drinks and asks if we need anything else. “No, thank you.” He smiles at the waitress and I can see her eyes practically pop out of her head at the sight of him. She leaves, but I feel a little annoyed.
“Like I was saying,” Andrew smiles. “I love-“
My palms go sweaty and I stop him by picking up my biscuit and chomping on it. “This is delicious!” I say, bits of biscuit flying everywhere. His smile goes faint. Nice, Lucy. Real nice.
“Is something wrong?” Andrew asks.
“Oh, no!” I insist. “What makes you think that?” Hmm, maybe because you just spit biscuit all in his face, stupid.
“Well, you-“
My head is spinning and I knock over a glass of water. The waitress rushes over. “I’m so sorry,” I tell her. I look at Andrew. “Andrew, I had a great time. But I’ve really got to go.” Andrew coughs a little.
He looks at me, dumbfounded. “Uh, okay.” He says, scratching his head. He looks at the waitress. “Check, please.” She looks at me, and then him, automatically assuming we’ve had a fight, I’m sure.
We haven’t, have we?
When we finally reach the car, I take a look in the mirror. My hair has conquered a few bobby pins and my mascara has flaked a little. My overall expression is just frazzled.
We don’t talk until we reach my house. “I don’t understand,” Andrew says, looking straight ahead and keeping his hands on the wheel.
And I burst into tears, reminding myself of the crazy pet store lady. “I’m so sorry,” I tell him. Looking shocked, he leans over and wipes away my tears with his thumb, being too nice to me.
“Oh Lucy,” he sighs. He holds my face with both hands. “If you’re not ready to say it, it’s okay. I just wanted to tell you. I want you to know.”
He looks me in the eyes and smiles. “I love you, Lucy.” So I start a whole new round of crying and Andrew is looking concerned.
Damn you, Andrew. Why’d you have to go and be all adorable?
You know what would make this less awkward? If Michael was here. He knows exactly how to make pressure leave a room.
What the hell? This isn’t the time to be thinking about Michael. But how can I not? He’s been in my life for six years.
“Lucy?” Now he looks doubly concerned. Obviously I sort of spaced out. Now I feel worse.
“Can you take me home?” I ask quietly. He nods and hesitates before starting the car.
 
In the morning, I walk into work to find Michael eating a bag of chips at the register. I smile. He is one hard worker.
He turns around when he hears the door. “Oh, hey Lucy,” he says, his mouth full of chips. Crumbs tumble onto his shirt and he brushes them off. I roll my eyes.
“Good morning, Michael.” I reply, setting down my purse and then putting on my name tag.
“How’d last night go?” He asks, rolling up the bag of chips and placing them under the counter. I sigh.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I sit down on my chair and Michael gives me a strange look. His icy blue eyes squint at me a little. He looks for one second longer, then turns his chair away from me. He throws his hand up in the air, as if in surrender.
“Okay,” he says. “But don’t come running to me when you actually want to tell me.” He turns back around. “Actually, scratch that. Definitely tell me.”
I smile. “Okay, fine. But you can’t…don’t react, okay?” He nods. I take a deep breath. “Andrew told me that he loves me,” I say quickly. His eyes go blank and he slouches.
“I guess…I mean, that’s good, right?” He catches a glimpse of my face. “You…uh, said it, too, didn’t you?” I shake my head. A small flash of relief crosses his eyes. It’s so quick I’m not sure it was really there. “Oh.” He says quietly. “Okay, well.” He pauses. “Uh.”
I laugh. “Okay, okay. You can have a reaction. It was cruel for me to not let you.” He smiles a little, the whites of his teeth shining brilliantly.
“Well, I don’t think I’m ready to give you my reaction just yet.” He says, grinning.
“Then I’ll have to guess,” I smile. “You are…angry. You’re angry I didn’t say it back.” He laughs, then makes a scowl. “No, you’re…sad. Because you want my happiness.” He pretends to cry. “Wait, wait. You’re happy I didn’t say it back. Because it means you have my love for your own.” I laugh this time, but he doesn’t. My smile fades a little.
And a customer walks up to Michael, so he turns around.
Could Michael…could Michael like me? Like, you know…actually like me in that particular way? Does that mean I like him?
I decide it means I must avoid him the rest of the day.
I spend my time in the storage room, organizing cans and bags underneath the dull lighting. At the end of the day, I try to make my escape, still unsure of my feelings towards his reaction.
But he catches me trying to sneak out. He grabs me by the wrist, and without me expecting it, pulls me in.
His lips hit mine harshly at first, what from the collision and all. Then it grows softer and softer until it’s as soft as the air from a hummingbirds’ wing. The whole time my mind is reeling.
I’m kissing Michael. OhmygodIamkissingMichaelohjeez.
But it’s surprisingly pleasant. And Andrew doesn’t enter my mind at all. Michael pulls away first, much to my dismay. He grins. He holds out his hand, as if in greeting.
“Hi, I’m Michael. I’ve been in love with my best friend for six years, and I just kissed her. I’m not sure yet if she liked it, but it sure seemed like it.”
I shake his hand. “Hi, Michael. I’m Lucy. I have no idea what I’m going to do about my boyfriend. Oh, and  I definitely liked it.”


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