If You're The Sickness And I'm The Cure

Right now, things have kind of settled in my life. There's nothing special happening, nothing momentous or immediate to tell anyone.

My feelings for Mike seem to have taken a backseat to my life in the recent way things have been happening. I like him, don't get me wrong, and I care about him, too, but I doubt his actions enough to doubt myself.

Take last Friday. Mike had been sitting in one of the practice rooms alone, playing idly on the piano. I followed in after him, taking a seat alongside him. I listened to him play the simple chords of Down By The Riverside, Bells of Rhymney, and more. Silently, I placed my head on his shoulder, relishing in the contact with ecstasy.

"Hey, what are you doing?" He asked me, his fingers no longer playing the piano.

I looked up, half of my face still pressed against his shoulder and chest. "Nothing. Why?"

He shrugged, laughing. "Okay." Then, out of nowhere, he grabbed my arm and bit me. Yes, bit me. It's a little joke between us, where we nibble on each other like we're candy or something. I can't remember where it began.

"Hey!" I yelled; he bit too hard. My arm stung. "I get to return the favor." I went to grab his arm, but he nabbed my wrists before I could get anywhere. I made a move for his neck, my stomach clenching as he quickly scrunched up his shoulders, rejecting me.

"No way, Liv."

"And what, you think it's fair for you to bite me only?"

He didn't answer. The bell had rung, and he skated out of the room after I struggled with him to bite him another couple of times. All in all it was fun, but it pissed me off, too.

This Monday was somewhat the same thing. I was doing my best to ignore him to a higher degree than usual; my weekend had left me sour, angry, and in the mood to kick him in the face. It was bad enough I knew this coming weekend was going to suck because he bailed on me for laser tagging, but his actions on Friday added to my bitterness.

Mike sat down alongside me, poking my sides instantly. I stared him down, doing my best not to explode on him because of last Friday. "Hey," I said. "You're invading my personal space. Stop."

"Psh," he rolled his eyes. "You like it."

"Not as much as you think," I mumbled, turning away from him, arms folded over my chest. I wasn't going to be his little play thing, not a chance in hell.

The rest of Monday went smoothly, me not hanging around Mike so much. Erich was unbearably sweet, so that made things better. And I'm still waiting on Jack for his answer about going to prom with me.

Mike is my sickness, and I am my own cure.