Micha


I open my eyes to Ella sleeping soundly in my arms, with one of my hands on her hip and the other just below her breast. I’d be extremely happy, but my head is pounding, my stomach burns, and I have no idea what the hell happened last night—what I did or said.


Carefully, so not to wake her up, I climb out of bed and go into the bathroom. The room spins and my brain feels like it’s going to explode inside my skull.


After I puke my guts out, I brush my teeth and return to the room. Ella’s awake, sitting up in the bed and leaning against the headboard.


“How are you feeling?” A tiny bit of amusement glistens in her eyes.


“You think my pain is funny?” I crawl onto the bed and lie down on my stomach with the taste of vomit burning at the back of my throat. “What the hell happened last night?”


Her fingertips travel up and down my bare back in circular motions. “Well, it started with you drinking half a bottle of vodka and it ended with you trapping me in your bed.”


I raise my head up and cock an eyebrow at her. “Did we…”


She shakes her head and lowers her body down so she’s lying on her side next to me. “You just wouldn’t let me go. You’re kind of evil when you get that drunk.”


“Did I say mean things to you?”


“No, but you tried to start a few fights.”


“I’m sorry,” I say, frowning. “For whatever I did.”


Her big green eyes blink at me. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to tell me what’s up.”


“Nothing’s up,” I lie, looking away. “I just went a little overboard.”


“You know, this isn’t fair.” She tugs on my arm and I look at her. “You make me tell you everything and when I won’t, you chase me down, pin me down, or tease me until I give in to you.”


“You could always try that,” I tell her in a low, husky voice. “It might be interesting to see how it goes. In fact, I dare you to try.”


Her body goes rigid. “Micha, just talk to me.”


I shake my head stubbornly. “I told you to try to make me first and then maybe I will.”


She bites down on her bottom lip, contemplating, and then pushes on my shoulder, forcing me to roll onto my back. I could easily win this battle, but that’s not the point. She sits up and swings a leg over me. Her messy auburn hair curtains our faces and her eyeliner is smeared, but she’s still gorgeous.


She works to keep a straight face. “Now tell me why you were so upset last night.”


“Nah, I’m good,” I say. “I think I’ll keep it to myself.”


Her hands come down on my shoulders roughly and she tightens her legs around my waist, accidentally rubbing against me and making my cock go hard. “Please just tell me.” She bats her eyelashes and it’s ridiculously adorable.


“Alright, I’ll tell you.” I sneak my hands onto her hips and knead my fingers into her skin. “But for the record, I never bat my eyelashes at you.”


She smiles proudly. “I know. That was my secret trick. You were always a sucker for it.”


My hands move around and grope her backside. “Are you telling me you played me?”


“Don’t change the subject,” she says, allowing me to leave my hands where they are. “Tell me what got you so upset last night.”


“My father has some kind of weird disease.” I let out a breath, feeling the heaviness crumble. “And he needs me for some blood marrow transplant thing.”


Her face drains to a ghostly white. “Is he… is he going to be okay?”


I nod. “Yeah, it’s not life threatening or anything, but I…”


“But you what?” she urges me to continue, massaging my shoulders with her thumbs.


I look away from her and stare at the crack in the wall. “I don’t want to do it for him. I want him to suffer and I feel like shit because of it. I mean, am I that big of a dick that I’d let him be sick, just because I’m pissed off?”


She relaxes her weight on me as her lips twitch to turn upward. “That’s way you’re upset? Because you feel guilty for being angry with him?”


“Why does it sound like you think that’s funny?” My gaze settles back on her. “It’s not funny.”


“It’s not.” She struggles to maintain a stoic face. “It’s just that… you’re adorable. You’re upset because you feel bad for thinking badly.”


“Don’t ever call me adorable.” I squeeze her ass and her body tenses closer to me, making me even harder. “No guy ever wants to be called that.”


Laughter flees her lips as she unintentionally wiggles against my hard-on. “I don’t care. You are. You are so adorable, Micha Scott. I don’t think there’s another guy in the whole world who’s as sweet as you.”


I give her a cold, hard stare. “You want to see how nice I am?” With one rapid movement, I flip us over, so her warm body is underneath me. My stomach burns, but I choke the nauseated feeling down. “If you keep calling me adorable, I’m going to flip you over and show you how manly I really am.” Her lips part in shock and her cheeks turn pink. I place my hand on her cheek and let my thumb drag below her eye. “Now that’s adorable.”


Her body quivers beneath me, but her voice is composed. “So what are you going to do? About your dad?”


I lean back, but still keep her hips trapped between my legs. “I always knew what I was going to do. I was just having an inner conflict with the crappy thoughts filling up my head.”


“So you’re going to help him.”


“Yeah, I’m going to help him.”


Her chest heaves up and down as her vast eyes gaze up at me. “It’s really hard just being friends with you.”


Her bluntness stuns me and I consider ripping her clothes off and making love to her right now. “What do you want me to do with that statement because I have thousands of ideas.”


She offers me a tight smile. “I don’t want you to do anything yet. I just wanted you to know that that’s how I feel—that you make me feel that way. I’m supposed to be working on sharing my feelings.”
I gently kiss her cheek and then move off her, but not before rubbing up against her once. She gasps at the feel of me and I grin.


“You’re a better person than you think you are, Ella May.” I point to my mouth. “See, you got me smiling.”


She rolls her eyes as she climbs off the bed and straightens out her shirt. “All I have to do is take my clothes off and you would smile.”


I stare at her, picturing her sweaty and naked and underneath me.


“Stop looking at me like that.” Her breathing is erratic. “You’re making it hard to breathe.”


With my eyes still on her, I pick up my phone off the top of one of the many boxes stacked around my tiny bedroom. “You want to take a trip to New York?”


She arches her eyebrows. “As friends?”


I nod, dialing my father’s number. “If that’s what you want.”


“It’s what I want for now,” she says. “And yes, I’ll go with you, because I love you.”


Ella


It dawns on me the morning after Micha got wasted that he might have a problem. He’s doing what my dad did and using alcohol to deal with his issues. Even though it might be difficult to confront him about it, it seems like I should.


I bring it up to my therapist during my last visit before my trip to New York, but she disagrees.


“I don’t think that’s a very good idea at the moment, Ella,” she says loudly over the rain beating against the window. The sidewalks outside are flooded, the sky is a dark gray, and the wind is howling. “You’re still dealing with your own problems and bringing that kind of stuff up to people can bring out some ugly emotions.”


“Micha’s not like that,” I disagree, raising the volume of my voices over the boom of thunder. “He would never intentionally hurt me.”


“Confronting problems can be hard for anyone.” She puts her glasses on and reads through yesterday’s notes. “How have you been doing with stuff lately? Has it been good?”


I tell the truth, even though my initial reaction is to sugarcoat it. “I’ve been fine except for after I got off the phone with Dean, but things are always crappy when I talk to him.”


“What did he call you for?” she wonders.


A huge lump swells in my chest as I say softly, “Because today is my mom’s birthday.”


She doesn’t look at me with sympathy, which is why I like her. “Was he rude to you during this conversation?”


I struggle to breath. “A little, but that’s because he still blames me for our mom’s death, I think.”


Her pencil is poised above her paper, ready to take notes. “Do you ever talk to him about how you feel when he hurts you?”


I shake my head. “No, and I don’t want to.”


Her hand moves quickly across the paper as she writes something down. “What did you do after you got off the phone with Dean and you were upset?”


“I wasn’t upset,” I correct her. “Just sad, so I went back to my room and curled up in a ball for a little while. I pulled myself out of it, though.”


“That’s good.” She takes off her glasses and there are red lines where the frames pressed against her nose. “What time are you leaving for New York?”


Tipping my head back, I glance at the clock on the wall above my head. “In, like, four or five hours.”


“Are you going to be okay?” she inquires. “You’ll be alone on the trip with Micha.”


“I’ll be fine,” I assure her. “I know you don’t want me to date him—and I’m not—but he’s still my friend and he needs me.”


“I never told you not to date him, Ella.” The rain picks up, veiling the window with water, and she raises her voice. “I just told you that until you can build a steady life you should try to take things easy, and relationships generally are not easy.”


I curl a strand of my hair around my finger. “How will I know when I’m ready to be with him again?”


She offers me an encouraging smile. “Only you know that, but can I advise you to take baby steps with any relationship you get into, so your thoughts have time to slow down and you can see what’s real?”


My thoughts are racing as I rise to my feet and swing my bag over my shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you when I get back.”


She escorts me to the door. “Take care, Ella, and remember, if you need anything just call me.”


I wave good-bye and step out into the rain, taking off toward the apartment. My boots splash through the puddles, and even running the entire way, my clothes and hair end up sopping.


Ethan and Micha are sitting on the living room couch when I rush inside and slam the door, locking out the rain. Their eyes dart to me and amplify.


Micha takes in my jeans and T-shirt clinging to my body and the beads of water running down my face. “Didn’t you have a jacket you could put on?”


I wring out my hair, making a mess on the entryway tile. “No, I didn’t think it would rain.”


“What? The dark clouds weren’t a dead giveaway?” Ethan asks mockingly and grabs a handful of chips from a bag on the coffee table.


“It usually doesn’t rain here.” I head toward my room while my boots leave a trail of water on the carpet. “Do I have time to take a shower before we leave?”


“Yeah, you’re good,” Micha calls out. “Just make it a quick one.”


I close my bedroom door, slip off my wet clothes, and go into the bathroom attached to the bedroom, leaving the door cracked. The warm water of the shower eases my stiff muscles and I let it run along my body longer than I’d planned.


“Ella, are you alive in here?” Micha’s voice increases over the sound of the running water.


I rub the water from eyes. “Yeah, I was just about to get out.”


I wait a minute for him to leave, and then shut off the water and draw the curtain back to step out, but he’s still there, leaning against the counter.


“Shit.” I grab the curtain and cover myself. “I thought you left.”


He crosses his arms and his feral eyes bore into me. “I wanted to make sure you got out. We need to go.”


I reach for the towel on the hanger and wrap it around myself before releasing the curtain and stepping out. His gaze tracks me all the way as I walk into my room.


I dig through my dresser drawer for some clothes and select a gray-and-black-striped hooded T-shirt and a pair of jeans. “Alright, give me a minute to get dressed and I’m good to go.”


He picks up a drawing of the girl with cracks in her face and studies it. “When did you draw this?”


Sighing, I pull on my panties without taking off the towel. “Right before I came to visit you in LA.”


He drops it back onto the dresser and his fiery gaze shifts to me. “It looks like you were sad when you drew it.”


I pull my pants on, stumbling around the room as my foot gets caught in the middle of the pant leg. “I was sad about not being able to see you.”


A ghost smile touches his lips as I stare at my bra in my hand, racking my brain for a way to get it on without flashing him. “Did you run into some trouble?” he asks.


I blink at him impassively. “Would you mind stepping out for a minute?”


He gives an overexaggerated nod. “I would mind very much.”


Shaking my head, I turn around and let the towel fall to the floor. Hooking an arm through each strap, I put the bra on and reach around to clasp it together, but fingers brush my back.


“I know I’m not supposed to say this, since we’re supposed to be friends.” Micha breathes in husky tone as he clips the clamps together. “But you are ridiculously beautiful.”


My lungs constrict as I peek over my shoulder and his luscious lips are only inches away. “You’re right,” I say, breathless as my heart hammers inside my chest. “You really shouldn’t say things like that.”


His gaze moves to my lips, full of desire like he might kiss me, and a needy moan trembles from my mouth. Nibbling on his lip ring, he backs away, his eyes never wavering from me until he shuts the door and disappears into the hall.


Blowing out a quivering breath, I quickly put my shirt on and comb my hair, wishing he had kissed me.


Ethan drops us off at the airport with barely enough time to get checked in and make it to the gate before the plane starts to board. Everyone keeps thinking we’re newlyweds and Micha is amused by it; however, it makes me uneasy. Newlyweds equal marriage, something I’m not ready for.


As we’re getting ready to get onto the plane, Micha tells me to go ahead without him. He’s got something to do and he’ll meet me on the plane. Collecting my bags, I line up with my boarding pass in my hand as he saunters off toward the gift shop area with his bag over his shoulder.


On the plane, I find our row and put my smaller bag under the seat, then stuff the larger one into the overhead compartment. I sit down by the window and gaze out at the blue sky and the wing of the airplane, wondering how bad flying is, since I’ve never been on a plane before.


“You look nervous,” Micha remarks when he reaches the end of the row.


“I’m fine,” I assure him. “I was just lost in my thoughts.”


He shoves his bag into the compartment above our heads and his green plaid hooded shirt rises up just enough to show a thin space of his lean stomach muscles and smooth porcelain skin. My thoughts fill with images of running my fingers up his chest, along his stomach, savoring his soft skin.


“Are you enjoying the view?” He cocks an eyebrow as he adjusts his shirt back over my view.


Hiding my smile, I turn toward the window. “I guess so.”


He sits down in the middle seat and when I look back at him, there’s a paper bag on his lap.


I point at it. “What’s in there? Is it anything good?”


He opens the bag and moves it toward me. Inside is a chocolate cupcake, with pink and red sprinkles. My heart instantly surges with my love for him.
“Now, I know it’s not the same.” He removes the cupcake from the bag and balances it in the palm of my hand. “But I think it’s close.”


Tears sting at my eyes as images of my mother flash through my mind. It was her thirty-fifth birthday and I was twelve. When I asked her what she would like for a present, she told me she wanted to bake cupcakes all day. It was a good moment in my life, although most people would probably view it as strange. But she was happy. I was happy. Micha was happy. And the happiness brought a rare serenity to our lives.


“You remembered.” A tear escapes from my eye and rolls down my cheek.


“Of course I remembered.” He wipes away the stray tear. “How could I not remember the day I had to make dozens and dozens of cupcakes?”


Through my tears, I manage to smile at the memory. “I couldn’t tell her no. It was her birthday and she seemed so happy.”


“And I was perfectly happy to do it,” he says, wiping another tear away with his finger. “Although I did end up puking my guts out because I ate too much batter.”


“It’s a good memory of my mom.” I shut my eyes, force back the tears, and release a shaky breath. “Rare, but good.”


When I open my eyes again, he’s watching me closely, like he’s afraid I might break. I dip my finger into the frosting and lick it off.


He restrains a grin. “How is it?”


I lick some frosting off my lip. “Really, really good.”


A woman of about twenty-five or so, with curly blonde hair and sharp cheekbones, sits down in the seat next to Micha. She ogles him as she tucks her bag underneath her seat and shuts her phone off.


I lean forward and Micha winces, startled. “You have an admirer.”


He glances over his shoulder and when he looks back at me, his face is lit with entertainment. “Just one of my many.”


I lick a mouthful of frosting off the top of the cupcake, laughing, and he watches me intently, dragging his lip ring between his teeth.


“You know what I love?” he asks and I expect something dirty to come out of his mouth. “How big your eyes are.” He puts a finger to the corner of my eye, touching it delicately. “They’re beautiful.”


The woman rolls her eyes as she buckles her seatbelt and grabs a magazine from the pocket on the back of the seat in front of her.


“You know what I love?” I ask, and he shakes his head. “When you’re lying naked in my bed.”


She pulls a disgusted face as she flips through the pages and Micha’s forehead furrows.


Cupping my hand around my mouth, I put my lips near his ear. “She’s listening to our conversation and getting annoyed, so I thought I’d have fun with her.”


An evil smile expands across his face. “You know what I love? Your naked body underneath mine, all hot and sweaty.”


She huffs exasperatedly and turns her back toward us to face the aisle.


Grinning, I bite into the cupcake. “That was fun.”


“That was fun,” he agrees and turns off his phone.


The plane begins to roll backward and it takes forever, but finally we’re rushing into the sky. I breathe in and out, tapping my fingers on my legs, not really sure why I’m all wound up, other than it seems like I’m putting a lot of trust in the pilot.


Micha’s fingers wrap around my wrist and he kisses my racing pulse. “Relax, everything’s fine.”


I snuggle up to him and rest my head on his shoulder. He brings out his iPod and puts one earbud in his ear. Sweeping my hair to the side, he puts the other one in mine.


He scrolls through the playlists and seconds later “Chalk Line” by Strike Anywhere flips on, the acoustic version, so it’s softer. Leaning into me, he sings along with the lyrics and the sound of his angelic voice lulls me to sleep.