Wicked Innocence by Missy Johnson
Don’t let my petite and innocent appearance fool you, because I’m one person you don’t want to cross. I’m Micah, the youngest member of Resurrection…If only they knew how young. My fake ID says I’m twenty-one.
And I will be…in four years.
What can I say? I blossomed early. Home sucked, so I left, determined to do something with my life.
Landing the gig as lead vocalist in the band was a dream come true. I’ve worked hard to make something of myself and nothing is going to ruin that for me.
Then He showed up.
He’s hot as hell and so into me. But he’s also twenty-five.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his ipod. “Put on some music if you like.”
I took it, letting my fingers glide over his. His eyes darted toward me briefly and my heart jumped. I quickly looked down, busying myself with his music collection. I ran through artists until I came across Severed. Smiling, I clicked play.
“You have your own music in here,” I said with a giggle.
He shrugged. “If I don’t appreciate it, then why should I expect anyone else to?”
“I guess. I just think it’s cute. Like an actor going to see themselves at the cinema.”
“You don’t think Nic Cage or Brad Pitt go to the movies?” he asked in mock horror.
“I don’t know. I met Brad Pitt once in Starbucks.”
He chuckled. “I can just imagine how that went down.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Well, you were kind of freaked out when you realized who I was. Meeting someone actually famous? You’d lose the plot,” he laughed.
“Well, in my defense, I didn’t have posters of Brad Pitt all over my walls—” I shut my mouth, but it was too late. No, no, no…
“You had posters of me on your walls?” he repeated, amused. “Micah, that is adorable.”
“Shut up,” I mumbled, coving my face with my hands. He chuckled loudly next to me, clearly not ready to let this go. “No! No laughing. Just shut up and drive.”
Missy lives in a small town in Central Victoria with her husband, and her confused pets (a dog who think she’s a cat, a cat who thinks he’s a dog…you get the picture).
When she’s not writing, she can usually be found looking for something to read.