Amelia's POV
Everything is telling me to just turn around and leave the room. Wouldn't it be better if we were fighting with each other? So why am I standing beside his bed and pouting because he's ignoring me?
Am I on drugs?
"Miguel-" I start and yelp as he drags me down until I'm lying beside him, my back pressed into the bed by the arm he places over my stomach, his other hand holding his phone as he watches a video absentmindedly.
"Miguel." I squeak.
"Hmmm?" He removes his earphones.
"Can we talk?"
"About?"
"There's a football game tomorrow night. Do you want to go with me?
Am I possessed? Why am I even offering this?
Remember mum said to be good to him.
"No."
"Do you want to go?"
"Yes."
"But not with me."
"Not with you. I'm sure I coul
