Ever So Slightly

I always said that Mike was pretty unlucky. He was really quite tall, with ridiculously cool hair and a good dress sense - only recently acquired, it’s worth adding, he used to be what people referred to as ‘a complete greb’.

Thing is though, he’d always had this heavy lisp, and what me and my friends call ‘acne stubble’ - a breakout of spots where a guy would get stubble.

Only, as I make my way over to him now, I notice that his spots are clearing up. I congratulate him in my head. Mike’s a nice guy and he’d be so in there with girls if his skin and speech cleared up.

I feel bad for the judgment he must get.

And not just from me - I try not to be a bitch like that to nice people.

I make my way to sit down next to him and shove him playfully, saying ‘Move up fatty’.

He broke away from the conversation with the guy in front to pout ‘How rude! Fatty? I’m not fat!’

‘Then why are you taking up two seats, hmm?’ I counter.

‘’Cause they were both mine, and you so rudely came and stole one,’ he grinned back.

‘Suuure,’ I say, in mock disbelief. ‘How are you anyway - it’s been a while.’

‘I know, you’re never in town anymore - I thought you’d like…died or something.’

‘Oh that’s nice, no, I just moved out of the area.’

‘Where to?’

I cringe. ‘It’s called…Crudgington.’

He looks blank. ‘Never heard of it.’

‘I get that a lot,’ I say. I’m numbly aware of the guy in front listening to our conversation. It doesn’t seem rude, only normal given that he was talking to Mike first.

‘Ah well,’ grunts Mike. ‘You going to Marks?’

‘Yeah. I thought I owed it to him - I don’t think I’ve been to even one of his ‘parties’ before.’

‘Yeah me neither, but I’ve never been invited so that’s probably why…something to do with me and his girlfriend.’

I’ve heard all about this from Ellie. By the time Mark and I broke up, he’d sort of infiltrated my friend group, so they were his friends too. Naturally, Ellie assumed role of confidante, and proceeded to tell me everything. What can I say, I’m nosy.

‘You mean how you got off with her?’ I say innocently.

‘I didn’t even get off with her! He got all jealous that we were friends, and tried to beat me up and stuff.’

‘Oh yeah, I heard about that.’

Mark ran into me in town a few weeks ago but blew me off with something like, ‘Can‘t talk, got to go and beat Mike up for getting off with Alice.’

He seemed pretty pissed off, brandishing a Lynx can dangerously.

Can you brandish a Lynx can dangerously?

Anyway. I digress.

‘Yeah,’ Mike said lazily. ‘He couldn’t find me though, found my brother and talked to him for a bit. Then he started having a go at me for cheating on Polly…’

‘Oh, are you two still going out?’ I ask, genuinely surprised. They’d broken up ages ago over something pretty huge.

‘Yeah. I haven’t cheated on her in ages too…like, a whole week.’

‘A week?! Mike that’s ridiculous - you’re a bad person,’ I say, smiling wryly.

‘It was only kissing, and Polly slept with Rhys before that…my best friend.’

I think for a moment. ‘Well maybe you should stop cheating on each other. Then your brother wouldn’t be able to bitch you out…lol.’

‘No, my brother would just have a go for something else. He’s just gay like that.’

‘Aw, mines really nice. He compliments me.’

‘Compliments you?’

‘Yeah, he’ll just randomly go, ‘I like your hair Hannah’, or ‘Han, I like your shoes’.’

‘Sound’s like he’s coming on to you to me,’ says Mike, wriggling his eyebrows.

‘Ew! EW! Mike that’s gross. Ewwww…he’s two years old.’

‘Two years old and he can talk enough to compliment you?’

‘Okay, well maybe he’s about four…ish, but still.’

‘Do you have to lock your door at night so he doesn’t go all incest on you?’ Mike grins, sticking out his tongue.

‘Ew ew!’ I protest, shoving him into the window. ‘That is seriously disgusting!’

Mike laughs at me whilst I pummel him weakly.

‘Alright, alright!’ he gasps. ‘Are you going to ring or shall I?’

‘Huh?’

‘The ‘Stop’ bell - we’re nearly here.’

Oh right, I get it.

‘Ohh, you do it, I always ring it late and the bus driver has a mini-spaz at me.’

‘Okays,’ he says, flicking the button just as we’re nearing a pub. ‘Stand up then.’

‘Noo no, I can’t stand up until the bus has stopped or I’ll fall over,’ I say, embarrassed.

It was true. I can think of three occasions where I’ve fallen head over heels when then bus lurches to a halt, all dreadfully humiliating to say the least.

The bus makes that final shudder and I stand, picking up my bag and walking to the front of the bus.

I thank the driver and pull my skirt down nervously, as I notice that only a handful of people actually got off at this stop. Mike, the guy in front of us, a preppy looking girl, and another guy - the latter two obviously a couple, and striding off down a little lane.