The Guitars //M.C.//

Two guitar players + Two guitars + Two tours + One airport = utter confusion, anxiousness, irritation, frustration, love...

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6. Chapter 5

McKynzi's POV

 

Michael shifts on his feet and smiles at me. I return it and we all walk to the entrance of the club; they let us in no problem. The first thing I do is walk up to the bar and get a drink of whatever. I hear someone chuckle behind me and I turn, looking at the black haired boy.

 

"What?" I laugh," taking a sip of whatever the hell this is.

 

"Nothing, nothing," he laughs, holding his hands up.

 

"Mhm, sure," I finish it and order another one.

 

"You're getting drunk aren't you?" he asks, leaning on the counter and ordering a drink for himself.

 

"Well yeah, we're celebrating so why the fuck not?" I say.

 

"Well, to getting signed," he holds his glass up and I clink mine against him.

 

"Damn right."

 

--4 Hours Later--

 

Michael's POV

 

"So- so, when I was fourteen? Yeah, fourteen, I uhm, I was attempting my first backflip on our, uh, our trampoline and I ended up breaking my wrist. I kept trying to uh play guitar, but my cast would always hit the strings, let's just say that I almost broke a guitar," McKynzi slurs, her hand hitting the counter.

 

"Really?" I burst out laughing and put my glass down, bending over laughing. Well I guess you can tell I find almost everything funny when I'm drunk.

 

"Yeah really, it was my favorite acoustic," she laughs along with me. I finally stop and look at her. Even totally intoxicated she looks hot. I stand up straight and bite my lip, McKynzi copying my actions.

 

"You look really fucking hot," I say, and a blush crawls up on her cheeks. She looks down at the ground and I step closer, putting my hands on her hips. She looks into my eyes with her chocolate brown eyes and I bite my lip, feeling my jeans tighten over my member.

 

"You're hard," she giggles, her eyes squinting as she does so.

 

"I know," I chuckle, looking deep into her eyes.

 

"I could, ya know, take care of that for you," she says, her hand traveling down my torso and to the bulge in my black skinny jeans.

 

"I would absolutely love that."

 

"Well then I would like to pleasure you, Michael Clifford," she says, her lips brushing against my ear.

 

"Be my guest, McKynzi Safee," she pulls me into the unisex bathroom and locks the door.

 

"Hope you enjoy."

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