Behind the Mask


Over the next few weeks, Mark and I get really close. We share music, talk on the phone, hang out, and I get to act myself around him. He's also found out that I've been faking with my rich girl look. He's seen me without my wig and dressed in my clothes. We are currently chilling in my bedroom, discussing bands.

"I don't know." I say. "Slipknot is pretty good but a little too hardcore for me."

He laughs and shakes his head.

"Okay, I can see where you're coming from Mrs. Blood on the Dance Floor." he says, making a face.

"Hey!" I say, throwing a pillow at him. "You said they were decent!"

He dodged the pillow, laughing more. I giggle as well.

"I like this side of you." he says. "You're more comfortable to talk to."

"What do you mean?" I ask, blushing softly.

"Well, you seem more at ease. When you're "rich Mikki" you're tense and its seems like you're trying too hard."

I play with the corner of my bedspread.

"Is it that obvious?" I ask nervously.

"No! You pull it off well. I never even noticed till I met the real you." he says.

I blush and smile.

"Thanks, Mark." I reply.

He grins and lays next to me, head resting on his palms. For a minute he just stares at me, a soft smile on his face. Then he starts to lean in and his lips softly touch mine. I jerk back. He turns red and ducks his head down.

"Sorry." he says

"No! I'm sorry" I sigh, brushing his hair out of his face. "I just don't know if I like you that way. I've never had a guy friend before so it's new to me."

He nods and recovers, smiling.

"So, what are you doing tomorrow?"

"I'm going to a Blood on the Dance Floor concert" I reply excitedly. "And I'm going to meet Dahvie Vanity and Jayy Von Monroe."

He chuckles and checks his phone, sliding off my bed.

"Well, have fun, Mikki." He says, smiling.

"Thanks" I say, smiling back.

We hug and he leaves.

A few minutes later my mom walks in carrying a basket of clothes.

"Hey honey." She says but stops when she sees my appearance.

She glances at my door, which Mark walked out of moments before and back at me.

"Did he? Has he?" She pauses, trying to calm herself. "Has he seen you like this?"

I bit my lip and nodded.

"Myra. What if he tells people? This could be really bad!" she yells.

My parents call me Myra when I dress like this. It's almost as if they treat me as two separate people based on how I dress.

"Mom, he promised he wouldn't say anything. Mark's a good friend!" I plead.

She sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose and looks at me.

"We can't have the possibility of your cover being blown, okay?" she says finally.


"Alright... well, there's nothing to do about it now." she replies as she hands me the basket. "Just please be more careful, Myra, okay?"

"Okay mom."

She nods and walks out, shutting the door behind her.
♠ ♠ ♠
Comments and suggestions appreciated~! Criticism welcomed!