It's the next morning, meaning I've got to start doing the project now. Ugh, I really don't wanna do this. But I've already said I'll give Michael one chance.

But, he's going to kill me! I feel it!

Like I did yesterday, I wake Rachel up again, and start to get ready. We've got a free day today, which means we have absolutely no lessons whatsoever. I'm half happy and half worried about that.

I've got no choice but to do this project today. There's no turning back.

Once I've finished getting ready, I go and sit on the bed. Michael is getting dressed, and ... he's wearing the buckles again.

Damn.

He looks over at me, so I try to turn my head ... but I can't. My eyes are locked on his. I can't move. I physically can't move my eyes away from his.

Stop it, Becky! Stop it!

Eventually, I rip my eyes away. Ugh; he's such a jerk, but his eyes are beautiful! How can his eyes and his personality contradict so much?

Whilst I wait for him to finish getting ready, I carry on sitting doing nothing. My eyes avert to Rachel as she stands up from her bed, and heads towards the door.

"I gotta go and do my project now, Becky. I'll see you later," she smiles.

"See you later," I say.

Elliott's next. "Mike my man, I'll see you round. Gotta work on this stupid-ass project," he says with a laugh.

Michael looks up and grins. "See you later, Sikes," he answers.

With no more words spoken, Elliott leaves the room. My insides flip over, and I feel a mix of emotions ranging from worry, to nervousness, to hatred for Rachel and Elliott for leaving me alone with Michael.

Now it's just Michael and I on our own. I have the most awful feeling that he's going to hurt me. He's going to hurt me. Of course, he's going to hurt me!

Trying to remain calm, I sit on the bed. At the same time, Michael sits on his. I don't want to be the first to talk – but then, I don't think Michael wants to be the first, either.

To keep myself entertained through the awkward silence we're both cute key experiencing, I stand up from the bed and pace around the apartment.

Man – if awkwardness could kill, I think we'd both be so dead right about now.

I'm going to have to speak, aren't I? I'm actually going to have to speak. But the thing is ... what do I say? What do I respond once he answers? What if he doesn't answer at all?

I'm overthinking. I just need to relax, and speak calmly to him. It'll be fine.

"We gotta get started on the project," I say.

What was that? What kind of conversation starter what that? Well, it's too late to go back and change it, now.

He has an angry look on his face. I guess it's the same reason I'm angry.

"I know," he replies, with little emphasis in his tone, yet at the same time, sounding angry, too. And it's deep; I've never heard it like that before.

Having finally spoken to him, I start to get the materials to make the model. After a short amount of searching, I managed to get a hold of a few tennis balls for the planets, and paints to decorate them. Once I've done this, I sit down on the bed next to Michael's, and start painting.

Michael gets up from his bed and comes to sit next to me on my bed. He's a little too close for my liking – and most-likely his, too, as soon after he moves back a little. With the awkward closeness over, I continue to paint.

"I think Saturn's orange," he says.

He's only saying this because I'm painting it red.

"It doesn't matter," I say sharply, continuing to paint it red.

"I said, I think it's orange," he says louder.

I can tell that he's getting angry. I'm going to push him. The worst he can do it hit me. And then he'll get into trouble. I win either way.

"I'm painting it red," I say.

I sneak a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He's getting angry; his eyes are glazed over. That just makes them look so much deeper.

Damn ...

"Paint it over with orange," he orders.

I shake my head adamantly. "No," I answer firmly.

He then starts to get really angry, which leads to me finding the paintbrush I was holding disappear from my grasp. My eyes move upwards to find Michael holding it.

"I told you to paint it orange!" he hisses.

"What's your problem? It's pretty much the same!" I shout, gradually feeling myself become angrier and angrier.

"Paint it orange!" he shouts back.

"What is your problem! If I was anyone else, anyone else at all, you wouldn't care! I know you hate me, and I hate you too! I'm still waiting for you to hurt me after all that's happened! I'm waiting! Why haven't you done it yet!" I scream.

Michael stares at me, his nostrils flaring in fury. "My problem is that you can't even paint the right colour!"

And today's top conclusion: he's so touchy!

"Well too bad! I'm painting it red! Why does it matter anyway?" I argue.

He grabs the paintbrush and dips it in the blue paint. Next thing I know, he's stroking the brush across my face violently, painting the whole of my face blue, whilst holding both my hands back to stop me from fighting him off.

Now I'm angry.

"What is the matter with you?" I growl, dipping my paintbrush in the red paint. In anger, I slap it across his face. After a few seconds, his face is painted red.

He glares at me, perhaps surprised that I had the bravery to actually paint his face in return. "That tears it!" Next thing I know, he's strangling me with one hand, wrestling me with the other.

Okay, so right now, I physically cannot breathe. This isn't exactly funny!

"Let go of me!" I choke.

He only gripe my throat tighter. I swear I'm losing air by the second, man!

"Let go!" I attempt to say, though failing due to the lack of air in my lungs.

He bashes me against the wall, blocking me against it. He's close to me – uncomfortably close.

"Then answer these questions!" he orders.

I won't argue; to be honest, I'd do anything to breathe.

"What!" I splutter.

He finally lets go of my neck, but still grips tightly to my arm. "Question one! Why did you try and get the eighth grader away from me that day?"

"Because he didn't deserve to get hurt for no reason!" I answer. Is he actually that stupid?

"Question two; why did you hurt Daniel at the park?" he yells.

"Because he hurt me! And you guys hurt innocent people too hard!" If I wasn't trying to fend off a complete asshole, I'd be rolling my eyes at how ridiculous his questions are.

"Question three; why do you always stare at my eyes all the time in class? What are you, some sorta creep!?" he asks.

"Because you stare at me! I was doing it back!" I cry out, wishing nothing more than for him to let me go.

"Question four! Why do you try and avoid me?" he asks.

"Because you're gonna hurt me! I don't wanna be hurt!" I answer honestly, beginning to feel a little frightened.

"Question five; have I ever hurt you when we're alone?" he asks.

"Yes! You're hurting me now!" I cry.

"Question six; have I ever hurt you when we're alone, before now?" he asks, unconsciously loosening his grip on me because of the previous question.

"No!" I reply, tears in my eyes. "Just scared me!"

"Question seven; when Daniel got hurt by you, what did I do?"

"You stood and stared! You're even cruel to your friends!"

This is not fun. Not fun at all.

"Final question! Why do you judge me as if I'm some sort of monster?" he asks.

"Because you are one!" I scream, tears running down my face from the fear I'm feeling. My face contorts with anger and emotional agony. My shout echoes throughout the apartment.

Michael's eyes widen. "How would you know? You've never taken the time to talk to me! It's either, I'm with The Jax, or you're always avoiding me! Y'know, if you ever took the time to get to know me, instead of judging me before you know me, you may know more about who I am!" he protests.

"What could I possibly need to know about you, apart from the fact that you're in The Jax, and you get happiness from hurting people?" I ask angrily, growing a small speck of confidence back.

"That's only the basic stuff! There is so much you missed out!" he responds.

"Oh, what! What could I possibly miss out!?" I demand, still trying to prise him off of me.

"You forgot my favourite colour!" he complains.

Really? His favourite colour!

"My favourite colour is purple!" he says sadly – a side I have never seen before, whatsoever.

"And, why does that matter?" I hiss.

He looks at my blue face.

"Cos, I don't see any colour purple in here," he says. His voice is a lot calmer now, and his tone far more relaxed.

"So what?" I remark sarcastically.

"I know how we could get some purple in here," he states, his eyes scanning around the room casually.

"And, how's that?" I ask.

"Your face is blue, mine is red," he says.

What's his point here? I'm genuinely struggling to work out what he's talking about.

"And why does that mat—?"

My speech is interrupted, as Michael suddenly moves forward, towards me; and presses his lips against mine, kissing my mouth harshly.

Uh ... what's happening? What's going on? What the hell has induced this? What is this, even?

I have so many questions about this.

And the crazy thing is, I find myself kissing his lips back. It seems strange, but there's something within me that can't let go ... No matter how hard I try, I can't let go ...

His lips are so magical ... I can't even describe it. It's as if my entire idea of his persona has changed with this one kiss. As much as I'm trying to let go, I just can't.

But then I realise – I don't wanna let go. For some reason, I want this to last forever.

Sadly, my wish isn't granted, and Michael pulls away slowly.

My eyes open to see the colour purple on his lips. It really worked after all that; we did make purple.

"We made purple," he says.

My gaze shifts downwards, as I look down at his lips. "We did," I say, trying to sound dejected to appear casual.

Then, he bites his lip. Man ... the lip bite. It's nearly as good as his eyes.

"But ... But what was that about?" I ask.

"I didn't wanna hurt you before; I did it to impress my friends. Well, they aren't even my friends. I-I mean ... it's all an act," he admits, suddenly looking embarrassed about this. "I didn't wanna be in your shoes, so I acted along and they let me join The Jax. Everything I've done that has hurt you, mentally and physically, was an act," he explains.

Something doesn't make sense ...

"Why have you been treating me badly whilst we've been here then?" I ask.

"That was so you wouldn't hurt me. It sounds stupid, I know ... but I guess I have some logic." He looks down shyly, obviously wanting to avoid eye contact with me. "Since that stunt with Daniel, I've been scared you'll do it to me," he confesses.

"So, how did this happen?" I ask, referring to the kiss.

"It's your eyes ... that's what got me. Your eyes ... " he admits.

Well, isn't that ironic? That's what drew me to him.

"My eyes?" I repeat.

He nods, averting his eyes back to me. "Yeah ... and your personality. I know you can be rough when you wanna be, but you have a sensitive side. I like that."

"Is that why you always stared at me?" I question.

"Yes. I couldn't take my eyes off of you," he answers, shrugging as if attempting to brush it off.

"The real reason I couldn't take my eyes off of you ... " I murmur to myself.

Michael hears me. "What?"

"Your eyes are the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen," I admit outright.

He smiles, his cheeks tinting a rosy-pink shade. "My eyes? Really?"

"Yeah. Remember our first Math lesson? The fact I said about myself was that I have an obsession with deep eyes," I remind him.

"Oh, I remember!" he chuckles, snapping his finger.

"Why didn't you tell me how you felt sooner?" I ask, shifting the topic of the conversation almost entirely.

"I don't know ... I was nervous. And after you tackled me about that kid, I thought you hated me," he replies.

"So, all that with The Jax, was an act? You like me, for real?" I ask. He nods.

"Well ... yes, I do," he says timidly.

The shyness doesn't last; he pushes me against the wall behind us, placing his hands on my waist. He brings his face closer to mine, and our noses touch by the tips.

"I ... I guess I ... like you, too ..." I whisper, a little uncertain.

He smiles, taking my comment as a definite decider that we're together, now. "I think we should paint the planet purple," he says.

A small closed-mouth smile forms on my face. "Why?"

"Because ... it's the colour that brought us together." He grins softly, which admittedly melts my heart.

"Purple's our lucky colour now ... " I comment quietly.

Michael nods. "It sure is." He bites his lips as he looks at mine. "Can we make the colour purple? Because honestly, I need your lips again ... " he requests desperately.

I've never been so sure on an answer before in my life.

"Yes," I respond in a heartbeat.

Once more, he presses his lips against mine again; this time the kiss is more passionate, and affectionate. My arms wrap around his neck, as he pushes me closer to the wall. This is magical. I completely understand how Emma felt with Mark now.

Man, he kisses so good. My stomach is tingling, and my head is spinning, and my heart is jumping.

It's one of the best feelings I've ever experienced in my life.

~~

-Edited January 29, 2017-