Someone, Anyone (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) COMPLETE, 01/20/16

Fics using the characters from Roswell, but where the plot does not have anything to do with aliens, nor are any of the characters "not of this Earth."

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April
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Part 41

Post by April »

Sorry for the slight delay today. BUSY day.


Rod:
I wonder if it's ever crossed Michael's mind what it would be like if someone treated his little sister the same way he treats women?
Probably not. But he definitely wouldn’t be okay with that, so yes, that’d be very hypocritical of him.
Second. ...Michael's inability to fathom why Kyle can spend time just listening to Tess talk, in person or on the phone, for hours is perfect example to me on his immaturity and non love for Isabel. If you love someone like Kyle does Tess than you love doing things with them no matter what it is......talking on the phone. ....or dancing with them at a school dance.
Yeah, it really should be a wake-up call to everyone involved. And I agree, when you love someone, you show it by doing the little things like that.
Plus......Michael can't fathom Kyle talking to Tess on the phone or why Isabel wants to do something boring like dancing .BUT......he can sit at the Crashdown or the library for hours doing nothing as long as Maria is there.
Yeah, he’s not very self-aware, but he definitely tends to do the same things with Maria that Kyle does with Tess.


Eva:
Whoaw! In so many ways: Maria who came to the dance, the sensual 'dance' between M&M, Jim & Diane and last but surely not least: Maria vocalising her worries and Michael declaring his love for her! What a chapter!
Yeah, lots of stuff happened in that chapter! The M+M dance scene stands out as one of my favorite scenes from this story, and the scene where Michael tells Maria he loves her is one that I agonized over. I ultimately decided that it seemed in character for him to just say it spontaneously at a moment when he was really feeling it.

Carolyn:
And congrats to the Snowball King.....
Michael references his victory of Snowball King quite frequently in this story. ;)

Sara:
And the fact that he told Maria he loves her...I don't think that was just to get her into bed. I think he genuinely loves her....or am I an idiot??
Oh, I think it’s safe to say he genuinely loves her. He’s feeling things for her he’s never felt for anyone. And sure, sex is on his mind—always is—but more than that, he just . . . loves her.

Michael:
I have to say that I should be appalled that Michael and Maria are doing the worst kind of cheating... you know... the Emotional kind... but honestly, I'm not.
I had mixed emotions when I was writing all of this, too. On the one hand, I could feel M&M’s attraction/feelings for each other . . . like feel it in my gut as I was writing it because I got so into it; but on the other hand . . . it’s always this bittersweet thing.
Isabel was stupid to take him back and she's even stupider for putting up with this much and all my sympathy for her has run empty a looong time ago... so, I hate to say this but she kind of deserves what she's getting from Michael and I think it's hilarious that she thinks she can lecture her mother about her own behavior when she's in the exact same situation.
Isabel is on a slow downward spiral as long as she’s with Michael. It’s as frustrating as it is unfortunate, so it makes sense that you would stop feeling sorry for her. Yes, she’s constantly lecturing her mother . . . probably because that’s much easier than lecturing herself.
As for the whole Michael and Maria thing... I don't know what to think I have always thought cheating was cheating no matter how you slice it but even with cheating there is a grey area. I think I wouldn't be so confused if they were just having sex and then developing feelings but there not... there developing feelings way before sex has entered the picture.
Cheating obviously has a huge negative stigma attached to it. Does it make it any better—or worse—if the said cheating also involves falling in love?



Thank you for the feedback! I really appreciate it!








Part 41








Desperate times called for desperate measures. Or, in Maria’s case, perplexing times called for perplexing measures. Her mind lately had been a constant whirlwind, trying to wrap around everything that was happening or had the potential to happen in her life. And Michael’s most recent declaration had only made the whirlwind whirl harder. Since Maria wasn’t sure what to do or even how to figure out what to do, she decided to ask for help. But for some reason, she decided to ask her mother.

“Mom?” she called as she walked into the tiny shop called Amy DeLuca’s Alien Collectibles. “Mom, are you here?” Sure, they by no means had a close relationship, but the woman had given birth to her. At some point, that had to count for something. Besides, it wasn’t like she had anyone else to talk to. The only other people in her life she was super close to were Michael and Dylan, and since Dylan was three and Michael was the root of the confusion, neither one of them was an option. She couldn’t talk to Krista, either. As much as she liked the woman, it would just be too weird to talk to her about falling in love with her son.

As she wove her way through the crowded little shop, she saw her mom standing in the back at the counter, facing away, her shoulders shaking with each sharp breath. “Are you okay?” she asked. It looked like she was crying.

Not turning around, Amy wiped off her cheeks. “Now’s really not the best time for a visit, Maria.”

“What’s wrong?” Maria asked, though it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. It had to be a Jim thing.

“I said it’s not the best time,” her mom reiterated.

Of course she would be closed off. That was just her defense mechanism when she got upset. But maybe it was for the best. Maria hadn’t come there to discuss Jim Valenti anyway. “Okay, well, this is gonna sound really weird, but . . . I need to talk to you about something.”

At last, Amy whirled around, her eyes puffy and red, tear tracks staining her face. “Maria, I just found out my boyfriend cheated on me. Forgive me if I don’t feel like sorting out all your problems.”

Maria took a few steps back, holding her hands up as if to say she’d meant no harm. Just like that, her mom had gone from closed off to combative. There would be no advice from her. Which was fine, because it might not have even been good advice.

She so wished they had the kind of relationship where she could tell her anything, anytime, and feel loved and supported in return. But they just didn’t, and they probably never would. Besides, she couldn’t tell a clearly distraught woman about something that would make her even more distraught. The conversation would probably start with, ‘Hey, Mom, I know Jim cheated on you, so it’s probably not the best time to tell you that Michael’s cheating on Isabel with me, but . . .’ And then it would end with her getting kicked out of the shop.

Much to her surprise, her mom managed to whimper an apology, “Honey, I’m sorry.”

Maria just shook her head, not wanting to hear it, and turned around and left. This had been a failed attempt at forging some kind of mother-daughter relationship. Now she knew better than to try it again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On Monday, Michael was on a mission: find out what, exactly, Topolsky had seen, and see if she intended to say anything to Isabel about it. If his and Maria’s little tryst was going to be exposed, he sure as hell didn’t want it to happen that way.

He popped into her office that morning, surprising her.

“Michael,” she greeted, sounding chipper. “What’re you doing here?” She gave him a look and asked, “Did you get in trouble?”

“No, for once. I just . . . thought I’d say hi.” He cringed inwardly. Lame. So fucking lame.

“Well . . . hi,” she returned unsurely.

He stood awkwardly in the doorway to her office, realizing he should have rehearsed this a little more. He just didn’t know how to bring it up.

“Are you sure that’s all you want?” she asked. “Because I’ve known you for a few months now, and you’ve never once come in here voluntarily.”

“Well . . .” He shrugged. “It’s not so bad in here.” And he actually meant that. He would have preferred sitting in there with her to sitting in his teacher’s classrooms. They all hated him and thought he was a loser. She didn’t seem to.

“Is this about the dance?” she deduced.

Well, this worked. He didn’t know how to bring it up, so she was bringing it up for him. “What, you mean . . . oh, you mean when we ran into each other in the hallway? Well, yeah, I was kinda wonderin’ . . . what exactly did you see?”

“Look, Michael . . .”

“Because that was my friend that I was with. Maria. She’s . . . we were dancing.”

She laughed a little, and he could tell by the look on her face that he wasn’t fooling her with that flimsy lie. “Listen, Michael, it’s really none of my business what you choose to do with your personal life. As long as it’s nothing illegal or criminal, I’ll stay out of it.”

He breathed a small sigh of relief. Good, so she wasn’t going to tell Isabel. “Alright,” he said. “Thanks.” He turned to leave, taking just one step before turning back around hesitatingly. Conversation over. Ended. Why was he lingering?

“Michael?” she said questioningly.

He set his backpack down on the floor, shut the door, and sat down in the chair across her desk. “Alright, I need some help,” he admitted, stunning even himself with the admission. He never asked adults for guidance. But hell, this woman was his guidance counselor, after all. Maybe it’d do him good to talk to her.

“With what?”

“With . . .” It felt weird to talk about it out loud. He hadn’t told anybody about what was going on with Maria, not even Kyle. “Lately, I’ve been . . .” He made a face, just knowing that he wouldn’t do it justice attempting to explain it. What he felt for Maria was something pretty much beyond words.

Except for maybe the three he’d said last night.

“I’m cheating on Isabel,” he blurted, surprised how low it made him feel to say it. “I’m cheating on the Princeton-bound cheerleading student body president.”

“With the girl from the hallway?” Topolsky asked.

“Maria, yeah.” It still sounded too casual, though, too not serious, so he came right out and confessed, “I’m in love with Maria, and I wanna be with her. And I think she wants to be with me, too.”

“But you’re with Isabel,” Topolsky recapped.

“Yeah. So . . . I know I have to break up with her, and I know I’m going to, but . . .” He shifted uncomfortably, feeling like a mental patient getting professional help at a clinic. “I already cheated on her once, and when she found out, it broke her heart. I don’t wanna do that to her again.”

“Well, Michael, I think you know you have to tell her. This isn’t fair to her. The longer you let it go on, the more it’s gonna hurt.”

“I know, but . . . I know it’s hard to believe, but I actually do care about her a lot, you know? And so I was just wondering . . . is there a way to break up with her without hurting her?”

Topolsky gave him a skeptical look. “I doubt it. You two have been together for quite a while now, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but . . . maybe I could just, like . . . I could break up with her, and say it’s ‘cause of the college stuff. ‘cause she’s goin’ all the way to Princeton, and I could say I don’t wanna do the long-distance thing. And then maybe, like, a couple months later, then Maria and I can come out as a couple. She doesn’t need to know I’m breakin’ up with her to be with someone else.”

“Michael, this really isn’t my area of expertise,” Topolsky informed him, “but if you want my opinion, you need to be honest. Because she’s a smart girl, and she’ll figure it out. And then you’ll feel even worse.”

He nodded, taking it into consideration. He’d feel even worse, huh? Even worse than he did now?

Feelings. Stupid damn feelings. He wasn’t supposed to be dealing with any of those, and at the beginning of the school year, he hadn’t been. But now, all because of one girl, he was consumed by them, and they weren’t making his life easy.

After school that day, he hit the weight room with Kyle, hoping it might help to focus on something as mind-numbing and dull as exercise. It didn’t, though. In fact, he was distracted and not able to put much focus or effort into what he was doing. As he was bench pressing, he was barely able to get the bar back up after he lowered it, and Kyle eventually had to grab it and put it back in the holder for him.

“That’s it, I’m done,” he pronounced, sitting up on the bench.

“Let’s just take ten pounds off each side,” Kyle suggested.

“No, I’m not feelin’ it today.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Kyle walked over to the thundering CD player and turned off the hard rock music they’d had blaring. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“ ‘cause you seem stressed.”

Michael sighed. At this point, he couldn’t very well hide it. It was becoming increasingly difficult to just do the little things, like sit next to Isabel at lunch, or say something to her when he passed her in the hallway.

Kyle sat down across from him at one of the leg machines, adjusted the weight settings, and started extending his legs out straight, hauling up an unthinkable amount of weight before putting them back down again. He repeated the maneuver several times before stopping altogether, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “I think I know what this is about,” he said.

Oh, shit, Michael thought. I didn’t hide it well enough. “You do?”

“Yeah. It’s kinda obvious.”

Michael nodded, figuring there was no point in even trying to cover it up. “Well, listen, I know you can’t understand--”

“I can’t?”

“No, because you’re so sure. You’ve got it figured out; you know who you wanna be with.”

“Who I wanna be with?” Kyle echoed. “Wait, aren’t you freakin’ out about college?”

“What?”

“I thought . . .” Kyle frowned, puzzled. “I thought that’s what you were stressed about.”

Well . . . that was interesting. Dodged a bullet there. “I am,” he lied easily. There was no sense in spilling the beans when they didn’t need to be spilled. For now, it was all still his and Maria’s not-so-little secret.

“Then what do you mean by--”

“Well, it’s just . . . it’s confusing, you know?” he sputtered, trying to be as vague as possible now.

“Yeah, it can be. But you’ve got some options. You’ll be fine. You’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah.” He honestly didn’t care, though. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about college, because wherever he went, whether it was Alabama or New Mexico State . . . it wouldn’t be worth going if Maria and Dylan weren’t there with him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Maria, can you come here for a minute?”

“Yeah.” Having just put Dylan to bed, Maria trotted into the kitchen when Krista called for her. “What’s up?” she asked.

Krista was hard at work on some cupcakes for Tina to take to school tomorrow. There wasn’t any special occasion, just the fact that every kid in Tina’s class signed up to bring snacks once a month. As fun as it was for the kids, Krista had mentioned on more than one occasion that it was a major headache for the moms. “I was just wondering,” she said as she finished frosting the top of one, “have you been able to talk to Michael about his college plans yet?”

Maria bit her bottom lip, embarrassed to admit that she hadn’t. “Not lately, no.”

“That’s okay,” Krista assured her quickly. “You’ve been busy.”

Busy making out with your son, she thought. “I will, though,” she promised sincerely. “I really think he’s gonna go.”

“Oh, I hope so.” Krista licked the excess frosting off her thumb, then tossed the knife she was using into the dirty dishes side of the sink. She rinsed off her hands quickly, then said, “Oh, before I forget . . . you should take a look at these . . .” Trailing off, she searched through a stack of mail on the counter, eventually locating a small binder of photos . . . of Michael.

“Are those . . . senior pictures?” Maria asked, stepping in closer to get a better look.

“Yeah, I finally convinced him to have them done.”

“When?”

“Oh, a few Saturdays ago. I think you might’ve been at work. We just went to a little place here in town. Nothing fancy, but I think they turned out nice.”

“Yeah,” Maria agreed, smiling adoringly as Krista flipped through. Most of them had just been taken against solid backdrops—solid white, solid black—but there were a few pages of pictures taken out around town, and those were definitely the sexiest. In one, Michael was leaning against a concrete wall in what appeared to be a back alley, wearing torn jeans and a white t-shirt. In another, he was wearing that same outfit, but he was sitting atop the hood of an old car, eyes smoldering as he stared at the camera. No need to smile when you had that kind of expression.

“Damn,” she found herself saying as she practically salivated over the images.

Krista gave her a surprised look.

“I mean, they’re really good,” she quickly recovered. “Damn, that’s . . . good photography.” Perhaps the most arousing thing was that she could now claim that she’d seen that look in Michael’s eyes, when he looked at her. Especially at the dance the other night.

“Michael doesn’t even care about them,” Krista said, handing the book over to Maria. “He doesn’t even wanna hand them out. I keep trying to explain to him, it’s tradition.”

“Yeah, well, you know Michael.” Maria laughed a little when she saw a completely outlandish picture set against a black backdrop, except there were Metallica posters hanging up there now. Michael stood in between two of them, mouth open, tongue hanging out, both hands up in the air, and both middle fingers sticking straight up. She pointed to it, giving Krista a questioning look.

“Oh, that one.” Krista rolled her eyes. “The photographer said Michael insisted they do that picture. I think it’s ridiculous.”

“It is,” Maria agreed. “But it’s so him.”

Krista smiled a little bit. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She had just flipped to another page of sexy pictures—white backdrop, tighter-fitting black t-shirt this time—when Michael himself came downstairs.

“What’re we doin’?” he asked, plucking an apple off the fruit bowl next to the refrigerator. “Oh, lookin’ at pictures of me? Good, you should never do anything else.”

“These are nice, Michael,” Maria commented.

“Thanks.” He bit into the apple and asked, “Did you see the Metallica one? That’s my favorite. That’s the only one I wanna order.”

“We are not ordering that,” his mom hissed decidedly as she shook sprinkles onto the tops of Tina’s cupcakes.

“Why not?”

“You’re giving the finger! You’re giving the fingers—you’re giving the finger twice.”

“Those are number one signs,” he corrected.

“Oh, ha, ha, you’re hilarious.”

Maria finished browsing through the booklet and then handed it back to Krista. “Good luck choosing,” she said.

“Yeah, I’m pretty photogenic,” Michael openly bragged. “But tell me, Maria, which ones should I order? Which ones do you think I look the best in?”

She gave him a hard look, noting the mischief in his eyes. Oh, she knew what he was doing here, trying to put her on the spot, get her flustered. “I think you look nice in all of them,” she answered evenly.

“Okay, let me rephrase: Which one do I look the hottest in?”

“I don’t know, maybe you should ask your girlfriend,” she shot back.

“Oh . . .” He winced, lacking a comeback for once. “Got me there.”

Maria smirked.

“My goodness, you two,” Krista cut in. “You’re bickering a lot tonight.”

“Oh, it’s all in good fun,” Michael assured her. “Maria and I know how to have fun together.”

She stared at him sharply, wishing he’d cut it out now. A little light teasing was okay, but if he kept talking like that, his mom was going to catch on.

Before his innuendo could continue, Tina came rushing downstairs, yelping, “Mom! Mom!”

“What is it?” Krista asked.

“Mom, come quick!” Tina cried. “It’s Dad! He won’t wake up!”

“What?” Krista ran out of the kitchen so fast that she knocked over the entire cupcake tin. It fell on the floor with a clang.

Michael and Maria both followed after at a slower pace as Krista raced upstairs with Tina. They stopped about mid-way up the stairs, though, waiting. Maria listened as Krista shouted her husband’s name a few times, then yelled downstairs, “Michael! Call 911!”

Michael zipped back downstairs and into the kitchen to get the phone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I shouldn’t be here, Maria thought as she hovered near the doorway of Andy’s hospital room that evening, holding a sleeping Dylan in her arms. This is a family thing. No one had given it much thought, though. The ambulance had shown up in a matter of minutes after the 911 call, and after working on Andy upstairs a few minutes, the paramedics had loaded him on a stretcher and hauled him off. Krista and Tina had gotten in one car; Michael, Maria, and Dylan had gotten in the other, and they’d all driven to the hospital, not sure what would happen once they got there.

Luckily, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. The paramedics had managed to revive Andy pretty easily—he’d still been breathing; he’d just been unconscious. And now he was sitting up in his hospital bed, fully alert and functioning while his family stood on either side of him and the doctor stood near the foot of the bed, explaining what had happened.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, looking mostly at Tina as he spoke. “I just got sick. That’s all.”

Maria shuddered. His complete dismissal of what had just happened was unnerving. She hadn’t gone upstairs to see him, but Michael had, after calling 911. In the car, he’d mumbled a few things about it, only what he’d been able to manage to say. There was a pill bottle on the nightstand, he said. Empty. Usually full, or at least somewhat full, of some pretty strong painkillers he took for a back problem he’d developed after years of working construction. And of course, there were always plenty of empty alcohol bottles up there, too. Not a good combination.

“Perhaps she should leave the room,” the doctor suggested.

Krista nodded in agreement. “Yes.”

“No, I wanna stay with Daddy,” Tina whimpered, reaching out to hold her father’s hand. He smiled at her a little, and for the first time since she’d known him, Maria thought he actually looked like he loved that little girl.

“You need to go out in the waiting room,” Krista instructed. “Maria, would you take her?”

She could barely even hear her own response when she said, “Yeah,” and held out her hand for Tina.

“I’m gonna go, too,” Michael decided, following them out of the room. Who could blame him? No one wanted to stay in there and listen to . . . that. Whatever it was going to be. Suicide attempt? Accidental overdose? Either way, it wasn’t good.

“Here,” Michael said, digging around in his pockets once they were in the hallway. He found a crumpled five dollar bill and handed it to his sister. “Why don’t you got get somethin’ from the machine.”

“Do you want anything?” she asked him.

“No. Go ahead.”

Looking like a little girl who had in fact just lost her father, Tina sulked down the hall with the money in hand.

Maria patted Dylan’s back, feeling like she didn’t want to let go of him. As sad as the situation was, it also enraged her. If Andy had taken all those pills on purpose, knowing what the outcome would be, then it was disgusting. Any father who would knowingly leave his kids like that . . .

But if it was just an accident, and he’d taken too many because he’d been in a drunken stupor . . . then that was just sad. Sad and stupid.

“Are you okay?” she asked Michael.

He stared blankly at . . . nothing. Not the floor, not the wall, not at her. His eyes were glazed over, yet thoughtful. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

“Well, they said they pumped his stomach, so . . . it should all be out of him now.”

“For now,” he grumbled resentfully.

“And . . . I don’t know if I heard it right, but did he say something about treatment?”

“In-patient treatment,” Michael elaborated. “For a few days.” He laughed angrily. “A few days? That’s gonna solve all his problems?”

Gazing at him sympathetically, she reached out to caress his cheek. She wished she could do something more to make him feel better.

When Tina came back, she quickly pulled her hand away.

“I wanna go home,” Michael blurted suddenly, glancing down at his sister. “What do you think? Let’s go home.”

“What about Dad?” she asked.

“He’s gonna stay here tonight. Mom’s probably gonna stay with him.”

“I wanna stay, too,” she insisted.

“He’s probably just gonna sleep. You can come see him tomorrow.”

“When’s he coming home?” she asked.

“A few days.” He took the keys out his pocket and announced, “Let’s go.” Poking his head back into the hospital room, he quickly announced their departure before they walked off.

At home, they attempted to make things as easy for Tina as possible. She was tough, held it together pretty well, only cried a little bit. But there were constant tears in her eyes. They stayed up for a little while and watched TV together in the living room until she couldn’t help but fall asleep, and then Michael carried her upstairs and put her into bed. And by the time he was done with that, he looked exhausted, too.

It was an unusual circumstance. Had it just been a normal night, Maria would have gone downstairs to sleep on the couch. Or she would have at least put up that stupid pillow wall. But not tonight. She didn’t want him to be alone.

He sat on the side of his bed, staring off into nothingness again, but she could tell that his mind was spinning. He wasn’t used to this. This was drama beyond being unfaithful to a girlfriend. This was a father who had issues to the point of life and death. This was a man who Michael was terrified of becoming.

She sat down beside him, unsure of what to say. Maybe it was best not to say anything?

They sat in silence for at least a full minute before Michael, surprisingly, was the one to say something: “I hate him.”

She tensed, because she knew that he meant it.

“I hate him,” he repeated, “but . . .” Trailing off, he shook his head.

“But he’s your dad,” she filled in. It wasn’t like there was a replacement waiting right around the corner. You only got one. Ever.

“How could he . . . ?” Once again, he was unable to finish the thought. “I mean, I don’t care if he doesn’t give a shit about me, but . . . Tina? I mean, he was really gonna leave Tina? She’s eleven years old, for Christ’s sakes.”

“We don’t know what happened,” she reminded him softly. “Maybe it was an accident.”

“Maybe it wasn’t.”

She lifted one hand to stroke his hair. “He said it was.”

“You can’t believe a word he says. And even if it was . . . he still got drunk enough to get to that point. So either way, it’s all his fault.” He grunted, shaking his head, and emphasized, “It’s all his fault.”

She frowned, studying him closer. The way he said that . . . it was like he was talking about something bigger than this, if that was even possible. Years of anger and frustration between the two of them had left them both damaged, wounded. Vulnerable. Their relationship, she realized, was far more complex than whatever issues she and her mom had, and it had played a big part in making Michael who he was today.

She wrapped one arm around his shoulders, slipping the other around his waist, and held him, resting her chin on top of his shoulder, knowing that she was too close but no longer caring. Not tonight. Just not tonight. “What can I do?” she asked quietly.

He closed his eyes, and she knew he was probably doing that to get rid of the tears that were building up. He was the type of guy who would refuse to cry.

When he opened them again, he had made up his mind. “Just lay with me.”

Just this once, she thought. He needs it. “Okay.”

She felt him exhale a sigh of relief.

He lay on his back, his one arm outstretched as it wound around her, and she curled up against his side, her legs blanketing his, her hand atop his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Whether he would manage to fall asleep or not, she wasn’t sure, but even if he stayed awake all night long, she wasn’t going to move.








TBC . . .

-April
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LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
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April
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Part 42

Post by April »

Eva:
Maria will be a great help, just like Michael is for his own sister.
Michael doesn't just want Maria anymore; he really needs her to get through this. It is indeed a mess.

Rod:
I don't think Michael's dad tried to off himself. I think it was a bad case of the drunk stupid that got him.
It could be either one. Either way, it's bad. :(

Sara:
Now I am starting to feel so bad for Michael....clearly he is a product of a horrible father. But I hope Michael will be able to come out of all this a better person. I hope this is also a wake up call for Andy....and he too can come out of this a better person for his wife, daughter and his son.
Michael and his father have similar journeys they can take in this fic. Now let's see if either one of them actually decides to take it.

Carolyn:
This is a bad, bad situation. So sorry about Michael's father, no matter what has happened in the past.
No matter how much of a jerk the guy is, you can't help but feel bad for him and for Michael's family right now.

Michael:
When you begin to sink as low as Andy has... sometimes you just don't get second chances.
Very true. Andy's lucky this didn't kill him.
As much as I love Isabel, I don't think anybody but Maria should have been with him in that moments.
Yes, I don't think anyone but Maria would have been able to comfort Michael.


Thank you for the feedback! I appreciate it as much as ever!








Part 42








The feeling of waking up had to be one of the worst feelings in the world. Especially when, as the sleep was wearing off, you still felt completely and utterly content where you were at. Doing nothing. Just lying there. Maybe dreaming or maybe not.

But waking up was always inevitable, and when Michael’s eyes slowly opened that morning, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. Right away, he remembered what had all happened last night, remembered what it had been like to see his own father, lying in bed, unconscious, and to glimpse the panic in his sister’s and mother’s eyes. He remembered what it felt like to wonder if he was dead, to fear it, even. To be shocked that he’d feared it.

What a horrible night.

But if there was one bright spot, it was the girl lying next to him. She hadn’t moved much from the position she’d fallen asleep in. She felt so perfect beside him. She looked so perfect. She was so perfect, even though nothing else in his life was. And she’d stayed with him all night.

He would have loved to just keep lying there with her, but if Tina was up, he needed to check on her, see how she was doing, how she was feeling about things. She’d been the one to discover him, after all. If she hadn’t gone into that room, there was no telling what might have happened.

Thank you, Maria, he thought, softly kissing her forehead. I love you. As hard as it was to do so, he untangled himself from her and got out of bed, feeling worse the moment she was no longer in his arms.

He peeked in at Tina, glad to see she was still sleeping, went to the bathroom, and then trudged downstairs, wondering if he’d even feel like eating anything. Probably not.

His mom walked through the front door when he was only halfway downstairs. She looked tired, probably hadn’t gotten any sleep at all last night. But then again, she’d looked tired for the past eighteen years.

“Oh, hi, honey,” she said, managing a forced kind of cheerfulness and even the faint beginnings of a smile. “I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“I just woke up,” he told her, slowly stepping down off the stairs.

As she bent down to take her shoes off, she asked, “Did Tina get some sleep?”

“Yeah.” That in and of itself was probably miraculous, considering what she’d just been through.

“Good. That’s . . . and that was good of you guys to take her home.” She headed into the living room, set her purse down on the couch, and ran one hand through her hair, letting that façade of cheerfulness fade momentarily.

He followed her, not sure if he wanted to even ask the obvious question. But he was curious, not only about the answer, but about how she would answer it. So he inquired, “How’s Dad?”

“He’s . . . he’s doing really well,” she sputtered, nodding hurriedly as if she were trying to convince herself of that fact. “He got some rest last night, and he was in good spirits when he woke up this morning.”

Michael made a face. In good spirits? Since when was his dad ever in good spirits about anything? It was just an act, and probably an obvious one at that. “Is he gonna do the treatment thing?” he asked.

“It took some convincing, but I got him to agree to it. I’m gonna take off work and go get him when he’s released today, and I’ll drive him there. It’s only about a half hour away.”

“How long’s he gonna be there?”

“Only three days,” she reassured him.

“Three days?” He almost laughed at that. Ridiculous. He needed more than that. Everyone knew it. Everyone knew how bad it was.

“I hope it helps him,” she said, her voice merely a whisper.

“You think it will?”

She sighed shakily, reiterating, “I hope so. He’s been . . . struggling lately.”

Was that what it was called when you drowned your sorrows on a nightly basis and treated your family members like crap? Struggling?

“Now Michael, I—I don’t want you telling all your friends about this,” she told him emphatically. “This is a family matter. It’s private. No one needs to know.”

She’s ashamed, he realized. She didn’t want people to know just how dysfunctional of a family they really were.

“You can tell Kyle, I suppose,” she regressed, “because it’s good for you to have someone to talk to. And Isabel, because you two shouldn’t have secrets.”

Oh, well . . . it was a little too late for that. “I’ll probably just tell Kyle,” he decided.

“Make sure he doesn’t tell anyone else.”

“He won’t.” If Kyle and Maria were the only two who knew, their secret was safe. He trusted the two of them more than anyone in the world. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes?”

He wasn’t sure whether he should ask what he really wanted to, or if he should just keep his damn mouth shut. He didn’t want to upset her, but . . . it was an upsetting time in general. It wasn’t like he could make it worse. “Do you think Dad was telling the truth?” he asked.

She tilted her head to the side questioningly. “About what?”

As if she didn’t know. “About what happened.”

Still, she played dumb. “What do you mean?”

“Do you think it happened the way he said?”

“He said it was an accident. He was drunk and he just took too many pills. He didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, but . . . do you really believe him?” Of course he would say it was an accident. Anyone would say it was an accident, even if it had been entirely one-hundred percent on purpose.

“Why wouldn’t I believe him?”

He grunted, challenging back, “Why would you?”

“Michael, stop.”

“I’m just saying, it sorta seems like he might’ve--”

“I believe him,” she cut in, silencing him, not because of how sure she sounded, but because of how unsure she sounded. Because of how she wouldn’t even look him in the eye when she said it again. “I believe him.”

He stared at her, feeling waves of sympathy, wishing he could shake her into saying what she really thought, what she really felt. But he decided not to push it any farther, because he knew what she was saying. She believed. She had to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Dammit,” Maria grumbled as she tried unsuccessfully to get the coffee maker functioning at work that afternoon. The on/off switch seemed to be jammed for some reason, and the entire machine smelled pretty bad. It was dirty and sticky, like no one had cleaned it for a while. Which probably meant that she would have to. Just great.

She was literally putting all her strength into trying to flip the switch to on and at least get some coffee brewing (no matter how crappy it would be), when she heard her name.

“Maria?”

Whirling around, she was surprised to see Isabel standing at the counter. “Oh, hey,” she said, trying to sound calm and natural.

“Hey,” Isabel echoed. “I’m sorry, you look busy, but . . . I need to talk to you.”

Maria finally dislodged the switch, pushing it up into the on position, bringing the coffee maker to life. “About what?” she asked nervously, hoping she didn’t sound nervous.

“About Michael.”

Her entire body stilled, and she wondered if the guilt looked as obvious as it felt. Was this it? The big confrontation that almost seemed inevitable at this point? Was this the dreaded moment when Isabel would reveal that she knew everything and Maria would be left with no choice but to own up to her own indiscretions?

She was deeply trying to avoid that moment.

“He wasn’t in school today,” Isabel continued on, “and he’s not answering his phone. I sent him a few texts, too, but he didn’t text me back.”

Maria breathed a subtle sigh of relief. So this wasn’t that moment. Good.

“Is something going on?” Isabel inquired, clearly concerned for her boyfriend.

The fact that Michael’s own girlfriend was asking her if something was wrong with him . . . probably should have been a wake-up call. But Isabel wasn’t quite ready to be woken up yet, so Maria played along. “Um, you know, he just . . . I think he wasn’t feeling well this morning,” she fibbed. “So he just didn’t feel like going to school.”

“Krista actually believed that?” Isabel grunted in disbelief. “I can’t believe she let him stay home.”

“Well . . .” Maria felt the need to defend Michael, because Isabel didn’t know the whole story. “He had a long night.”

“Doing what?”

“Just . . . feeling bad.” There. Nice and vague. Hopefully enough to get Isabel empathizing.

“Hmm.” She paused for a moment, thinking it over, then decided, “I’m gonna go see him.” Without even so much as a goodbye, she turned and headed out, leaving Maria standing there with the coffee machine that she’d probably never be able to turn off now.

You do that, she thought morosely. I’ll just wait here.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael couldn’t even pretend to be interested as Isabel ranted to him about what an awful day she’d had. But she didn’t seem to notice, because she just kept going on and on and on.

“And so I was like, ‘Principal Forrester, trust me, Study Buddies is working.’ But he’s all, ‘Results, results, I need to see results.’ Something about quantifiable data? Whatever. I tried explaining that you’re not gonna see grades jump from an F to an A; it’s just not realistic. But that’s what he wants. He doesn’t understand that you have to get there in increments, or that, for some people, it’s more about maintaining passing grades, not necessarily making high honor roll. Ugh!”

He rubbed his forehead, about to get up off that couch and just bolt. Run. Go somewhere. Be somewhere else. Because he couldn’t take much more of this. She was talking so much, she sounded like Tess.

“I mean, you’ve liked Study Buddies, right?”

“Uh . . .” Liked was too strong of a word. He could never like something that required intellectual time and effort. “Hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be,” he admitted.

“Okay, so maybe you could tell him that. But you could, like, really brag it up. Say it’s been life-changing or something. Because I don’t want him to cut the program next year. I mean, I know we won’t be here, but I wanna leave my mark on this school, you know? I want people to look back and say, ‘When Isabel Evans was student body president, she changed this place for the better.’ You know?”

He just stared at her, his hand still on his forehead, the impending headache worsening with every passing second. No, he thought. I don’t know. He couldn’t relate to how crappy her past twenty-four hours had been, because his had been way worse. And she had no idea.

“I’m really tired,” he blurted. Not a lie. Even though he’d slept last night, he hadn’t slept well. Mind racing and all that.

“Oh.” She frowned. Clearly not the reaction she’d been expecting. “Do you want me to go?”

“Probably should.” She was only going to get frustrated with him for not listening and not sympathizing and not offering to help save her stupid tutoring program if she stayed.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “I’ve got a ton of a homework to do.” She got up, and he stood and walked her to the door, not to be a gentleman, but really just to make sure she actually left. She rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him before leaving, but she stopped just inches away, pressing her hand to his mouth. “You’re contagious,” she said, giving him a quick hug instead.

He stared after her in utter confusion as she left. Contagious? Whatever. Honestly, he didn’t even care.

He was about to trudge back into the living room and just collapse on the couch when Dylan came padding out of his room, clutching his favorite blanket to his chest, sucking his thumb.

“Hey, little man,” Michael said. “How was your nap?”

“Good,” Dylan answered. He mumbled a bunch of other stuff, most of which Michael couldn’t understand, but he managed to pick out the word ‘samwich,’ which was how Dylan pronounced sandwich, and he gathered the kid was hungry.

“You want me to make you somethin’ to eat?” he offered.

Dylan nodded eagerly and trotted into the kitchen. With both hands, he pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and tried to climb up. Seeing that he was struggling, Michael gave him a boost.

“Alright, sandwich?”

“Yep.”

“What kind do you want?”

Dylan tucked his knees beneath him so he could see over the top of the table. “Mmm . . . PBJ.”

“Peanut butter and jelly? Good choice.” Michael quickly got out the supplies and laid them out on the counter, planning to entertain the little boy while he made his snack for him. “Alright, here we go,” he said, unscrewing the lid to the peanut butter. He dug a butter knife in and spread it all over the first slice of bread as quickly as possible. “This is gonna be the best sandwich ever. Nothin’ but the best for my man, Double D.”

Dylan laughed.

“I won’t call you that in public,” he promised, shifting to jelly now, “ ‘cause that’s the kind of nickname that could get a guy picked on. But just between you and me . . . it works. Dylan DeLuca. Double D.”

Dylan giggled again.

Michael slapped one slice of bread down on top the other, put it on a paper plate, and went over to the table, setting the plate down in front of Dylan. “Want somethin’ to drink?” he asked.

Dylan shook his head and grabbed his sandwich with both hands, taking a big bite.

“Good?” Michael questioned.

The little boy gave an enthusiastic nod and said, “Tank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He sat down beside him, just watching him. Because, for some reason, that was all he wanted to do.

As he continued munching, Dylan started to mumble a lot of stuff that didn’t make sense. And some things that did. “Micho, I wish—I want . . . I don’t know why . . . why can’t . . . I want you be daddy.”

There was that word again. The one he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since he’d first heard Dylan say that. Daddy. “Yeah,” he said, reaching over to rub the little guy’s head. “Sometimes I want that, too.” He knew now more than ever what it was like to grow up without a dad, and Dylan didn’t deserve that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The last thing Maria thought she would hear when she stepped into the house that evening was laughter, but much to her surprise, that was exactly what she heard. Dylan was the one laughing, all high-pitched and bubbly, as he sat at the kitchen table with Michael. He was babbling about something, pieces of bread falling out of his mouth as he tried to eat at the same time.

When Michael saw her come in, he just stopped and looked at her. Just looked. His eyes locked onto hers and never glanced away. She, as usual, felt breathless.

Dylan finally noticed he no longer held Michael’s attention and craned his head back. “Hi, Mommy!” he chirped.

“Hi, honey.” Maria kicked off her shoes, set down her purse, and headed into the kitchen. Standing behind her son, she bent down and kissed the top of his head.

“Look!” he exclaimed, holding up a half-eaten sandwich. “Micho made food!”

“Mmm, yummy.” She smiled at Michael appreciatively.

“Yeah, I’m a real culinary talent,” he mumbled sarcastically, rising to his feet.

Maria’s eyes lingered on him as he slipped out of the kitchen, and she followed soon after, leaving Dylan to finish off the food he was so obviously enjoying.

They stopped near the entryway, concealed from Dylan’s view by the staircase, and Maria felt compelled to be nearer to Michael. So she moved in closer and reached out, finding his hands with hers, holding them gently, hoping that even the slightest contact would make him feel better. Because he obviously wasn’t feeling like himself. “How are you doing?” she asked, though the answer was clear.

He sighed, glancing upstairs. “Tina’s pretty upset. She’s been spending a lot of time with my mom today. She hasn’t even come downstairs. We keep tryin’ to get her to eat something.”

“Michael.” She stroked his palms with her fingertips. “I asked how you were doing.” Leave it to him to avoid answering the question.

Hesitating momentarily, he shrugged. “I’m alright.”

She gazed at him skeptically, knowing better.

“So my dad tried to kill himself,” he said almost . . . flippantly. “Shoulda seen it comin’.”

“You don’t know if that’s what he did,” she reminded him, desperately wanting to believe it really had just been an accident.

“Maria.” He gave her a solemn, dead-set look. “We all know.”

Even if she’d tried to disagree, it would have just been feeble, so she skipped the lame attempt altogether. “Well, at least he’s gonna get some help now,” she said, trying to look on the positive side. Every cloud had a silver lining. Or something like that.

He grunted angrily.

“Right?”

“Oh, yeah.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm and doubt. “My mom took him to the treatment place today. Said he already hates it. He doesn’t wanna stay, and no one can really make him stay, so he’s probably gonna come home tomorrow.”

“What?” That sounded like a horrible idea.

“Yeah, my mom already took another day off work so she can go get him.”

Maria shook her head, stunned, disappointed that Krista wasn’t trying harder to convince her husband to get some help. Or maybe she had and it still hadn’t worked. Andy could be very stubborn. Regardless . . . it almost felt like they were enabling a relapse at some point.

“Apparently this was a wake-up call,” Michael said, almost laughing out all of his pent up frustration, “and it’s all gonna be different now.”

She felt so bad for him. And for Tina, and for Krista. But mostly for him. Because while they were upstairs telling each other it would all be okay, Michael was down here, dealing with the reality that it might not be. “I’m sorry,” she sympathized, wishing she could offer up more in the way of support.

“Whatever. It’s fine,” he grumbled. “I don’t care.”

He did, though. He did care. As much as he hated his dad and as strained as their relationship was, he still cared about what happened to the guy. To Maria, it was obvious.

Suddenly, Dylan hollered from the kitchen, “Daddy!”

Maria’s eyes bulged in disbelief. “Did he just say--”

“Yeah,” Michael mumbled as if it were nothing. “He calls me that sometimes.” And then he just turned and headed back into the kitchen, as though it didn’t bother him or confuse him at all to hear Dylan say that.

Maria just stood there, completely stunned, all logic and common sense telling her that she should march on in there and put a stop to it, set her confused son straight. But maybe it was because Dylan had never had a father before, or because Michael was losing his, that she just kept standing there, letting that heart-warming feeling wash over her for a few fragile seconds.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It felt good to talk to Kyle, to talk to him about what was going on at home. When Michael revealed the situation that had happened and was still happening with his dad, Kyle didn’t make a joke out of it the way his other friends would have. He didn’t dismiss it with a simple, “That’s rough, man,” and move on to the next topic. He just sat there, listening at the lunch table, taking it all in before the girls came and sat down with them.

“Oh, man,” he said heavily. “That’s . . .” He sighed, shaking his head. “Wow. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Just don’t say it was an accident,” Michael muttered, picking up what was left of the pizza slice on his lunch tray. He took a bite, made a face at how cold and uncooked it was, and put it back down again.

“Who knows what it was,” Kyle said. “Accident or not, I had no idea it’d gotten that bad. I mean, this is really serious.”

“Yeah, try tellin’ him that. He’s comin’ home today.” Michael rolled his eyes. Loser.

“It’s too soon,” Kyle agreed.

“Apparently he doesn’t think so.” Downing the rest of that puny little milk carton, Michael couldn’t help but think it tasted kind of spoiled. Nothing was satisfying him today.

“Dude, this sucks,” Kyle empathized. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“So who else knows?”

“No one. Just you and Maria.”

“Maria?” Kyle raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t exactly ready to share every recent development in his life with his best friend yet, so he quickly covered up any suspicion by reminding him, “She lives with me. She was there when it happened.”

“Oh, I see.” Kyle seemed content to accept that for now. “So you haven’t told Isabel?”

“Nope.”

“Are you gonna?”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it.” He made a face at the mere thought. “You know Isabel. She’d make me talk about my feelings or go to Topolsky or somethin’.” He quieted himself as the girls approached the table, telling Kyle, “Don’t say anything,” even though that was understood.

Tess and Isabel were talking about some major new cheer drama—dire—so he tuned them out when they sat down. He did catch the tail-end of their conversation, though, where Tess declared, “Oh, well. It’s not a big deal.”

“No,” Isabel agreed. “It’s not.”

Michael nearly laughed. No shit? Cheerleading drama was no big deal? This was news to them?

“Sooo . . .” Tess drew out the one word as if it were supposed to mean something all on its own, or as if they were supposed to somehow know what she was saying.

“What?” Kyle finally asked.

“What’re we doing tonight?” Tess squealed. “After the wrestling meet.”

“Wasn’t even plannin’ on goin’ to that,” Michael muttered.

Isabel frowned. “You weren’t?”

“Why not?” Tess snapped. “It’s Districts. There’s, like, a million cheer squads there, and we’re always the best.”

“Well, as much as I’d like to spend my entire evening watching the two of you pound on the mats with a certain rhythmic tenacity . . . I’ll pass.”

Tess gave him a mean look. “Well, are you at least gonna go the party afterward? It’s in Frazier Woods. Your favorite.”

He sighed, completely not in a partying mood. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Tess sounded astonished. “Michael, it’s a party.”

“So?” he challenged.

“So you are a party animal.”

“Oh, and that’s all I am?” On his headstone, was that what it would say? R.I.P. Michael Guerin. Son, Friend, Party Animal.

“I didn’t say that.” Tess gave Isabel a confused look, like she didn’t know how to proceed.

“Honey, are you okay?” Isabel questioned softly.

No, he wasn’t okay. Wasn’t it obvious? How come she couldn’t just tell? “I’m fine.”

“Let’s just see what we feel like doing tonight,” Kyle suggested. “Okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Tess shot Michael a semi-annoyed look and started inspecting her veggie pizza. Isabel just kept watching him, and he kept looking away from her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael heard his dad clanging around in the kitchen when he got home that night. Not unusual. What was unusual was that, when Michael looked in, he saw that he was cooking something. First time he’d cooked in years. Probably just an act. He’d go back to clanging around in there for booze in a matter of days.

Michael walked up to him slowly, almost freaked out to see the guy standing, looking normal, like nothing had happened. The last time he’d seen him, he’d been propped up in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines and monitors and lucky to be alive.

“There’s my son.”

And that. Creepy.

“You wanna give me a hand? I’m makin’ BLTs.”

Michael stared at him angrily, skeptically. “We don’t have any lettuce.”

“Oh, well . . . BTs then.” His dad smile—actually smiled—and turned on the front right burner of the stove. “You wanna get the bacon?”

Michael grunted, shocked by the casualness, the utter obliviousness of it all. Was he even going to talk about what had happened? Even mention it once? “Are you fuckin’ serious?” he growled.

His dad, of course, played dumb. “What?”

“You’re gonna waltz back in here like everything’s fine? Make dinner like you’re Father of the Year? You’re a fuckin’ joke.” He wasn’t going to hold back or take it easy on the guy. No way. He was pissed off as hell, and the fact that this douchebag was acting like nothing had happened was a total slap in the face.

“What do you want me to do?” his dad asked.

“I want you to admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“Oh, come on, Dad!” His patience was wearing thinner and thinner by the second.

“Look, Michael, I apologized. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to say you tried to kill yourself,” he blurted without thinking. He looked back over his shoulder quickly, relieved that Tina wasn’t standing within earshot. Lowering his voice even though he wasn’t around, he said, “Because we both know you did.”

His dad looked flabbergasted, like the façade he’d been putting up was suddenly crumbling all around him. “That’s not true,” he denied.

“Sure it is.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you hate your horrible life!” Michael actually laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. There he was, explaining to his own father the reasons why’d he’d tried to kill himself. As if he didn’t already know. As if he hadn’t sat there and thought about it for months or even years beforehand. “You think you’ve got it so bad, but if you opened your eyes and took a look around, you’d see it’s not so bad. You got a job, you got a house. A wife, a daughter. Sure, you hate me, but I won’t be around much longer. And hey, at this rate, neither will you.”

His father shook his head insistently. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“I don’t?”

“No. You’re eighteen. You think you have all the answers.”

“No, I just know what I know.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“So what happened? Explain it to me.” Michael wasn’t about to back down.

“I drank too much. I didn’t know what I was doin’.”

“Oh, so naturally you check yourself out of rehab.”

“I don’t need rehab. I’m fine.”

“Oh, clearly.” Michael couldn’t even believe he was hearing this. Just how severely had this guy deluded himself? Was he even in touch with reality anymore?

“Look . . . sometimes I drink,” his dad admitted.

Michael rolled his eyes. Sometimes.

“I need to cut back.”

Understatement of the year. Michael glared at him, infuriated by the phrasing. Not stop. Just cut back. “Whatever, Dad,” he muttered, feeling like he was getting nowhere. “Let me just point out to you, not one of those words was, ‘No, son, I didn’t try to kill myself.’”

To that, the man who was partly responsible for giving him life had no response. Not even a flimsy reassurance.

Hurrying upstairs, feeling like that place and that entire situation was suffocating him, Michael thankfully found Maria in the bedroom. She was sitting on the bed, strumming her guitar and singing a song he faintly recognized while Dylan played in the closet. She stopped when he came in, though, and asked at once, “Are you okay?”

He wasn’t okay. Not by a long-shot, and it must have been obvious. But when he was with her, he felt like it would all be okay. Somehow. “Do you wanna get outta here?” he asked, recalling that there was a party happening tonight.

“Michael, I can’t ask your mom to watch Dylan tonight,” she said. “Your dad just got back.”

“So ask your mom to watch him.”

The look on her face told him she didn’t like that idea.

“Maria.” He needed her. Now more than ever. “Please.”








TBC . . .

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Part 43

Post by April »

Carolyn:
Michael is a chicken......will he ever tell Isabel the truth??
We'll see.
Wonder what will happen next?
Lots. ;)

Eva:
What a father-son conversation! Straight to the topic, just like only Michael can do. But if I'm honest, I would've done exactly the same thing when I would've been in his shoes. His dad's life isn't good. All their lifes aren't good. Denying that one, is just escaping reality. Something you can do for a short time but not in the long run.
Yes, that was a doozy of a conversation, but one that needed to happen, and Michael actually showed a lot of courage by tackling the issue rather than just letting it slide by. No one else is willing to call his dad out on what happened, so he did.

Sara:
Wow....a real conversation between father and son. Good for Michael for tackling that head on. I wish he would do the same with Isabel. Now that he knows he can do it, he should. Nice work!!
Yeah, he should just get all his difficult conversations out of the way, shouldn't he?

Rod:
I've seen my fair share of alcoholism over the years. Michael's dad falls into the "I got my girlfriend pregnant, forced to marry her and didn't get to live the life I wanted" drinker. He drinks to numb the regret for not getting to live the life he wanted. This led to to his problem of drinking. His main problem is not thinking he has a problem.
Yep, this definitely describes Michael's dad. It's actually quite sad.
Michael's main problem is he likes to point out others problems but either blind to his own or not wanting to fix them.
I agree.


THANK YOU for the feedback! Sorry this update is a bit late today. Just had a busy day today and didn't have time to update until now.

But . . . now that I am updating, I might as well drop by some music! It's yet another song from The Vampire Diaries today, a sort of dark/sexy one called "In Line" by Robert Skoro. You can listen to it here or click on 8) when you see it if you would like to listen.









Part 43








Since exactly half of the wrestling team ended up qualifying for State, spirits were high at the party that night in Frazier Woods. Several individuals were even higher, but Isabel mostly just steered clear of them. She hung around Tess, who was busy chatting up two eighth grade girls who probably—no, make that definitely—shouldn’t have been there. They were cute and petite, though, and apparently had a good sense of rhythm, so Tess wanted them to try out for cheerleading badly. By hanging out with them, she claimed the was recruiting.

Isabel was half-heartedly chiming in about how fun cheerleading was when Tess pointed behind her and said, “Look, there’s Michael.”

Isabel turned, and sure enough, there he was, getting out of his dad’s car, looking as if he didn’t really want to be there.

But he wasn’t alone.

“And he brought Maria,” Tess snarled.

Isabel watched in agitation as the two of them together made their way inward. Michael said hi to a few people who said hi to him first, and Maria just hung close beside him, pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt down over her hands. Or maybe it was Michael’s sweatshirt. It looked familiar.

Isabel motioned for Tess to follow her, and together they made their way over to Michael. And Maria. Even though no one had invited her. “Hey,” she greeted, managing to sound somewhat cheerful.

“Hey.” Michael, on the other hand, didn’t sound so upbeat. “Is it lame?”

“The party?” Isabel asked. “No, it’s actually kind of fun.” The weather was comfortably cool, and people weren’t getting drunk to the point of being sloppy. So all in all, it was a decent atmosphere.

“Yeah,” Tess agreed. “Kyle’s around here somewhere.”

“You want a drink?” Isabel offered, purposefully ignoring Maria.

Surprisingly, he declined. “No.”

“No?” Tess made a face as though she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Since when?”

“Since . . .” He trailed off, never managing to answer, but his loyal sidekick jumped right in.

“Well, he’s driving,” Maria said. “I mean, I would, but it’s a party, so I plan on getting totally shit-faced.”

“What a great mother,” Tess mumbled sarcastically, saying exactly what Isabel had been thinking.

“What was that?” Maria asked.

“Nothing,” Tess denied quickly, looking around. “I should find Kyle.”

Isabel watched Maria for a moment, sensing that she wasn’t going to just let it go this time. She could see the other girl’s frustration building, reaching its boiling point. “You know, Tess,” she finally said, “I’m really tired of you insulting me and thinking I don’t hear it.” With a little more attitude than usual in her step, she walked on by them, heading in the direction of the keg.

Tess just stood there, mouth dropped open, clearly unused to having anyone stand up to her. Isabel felt bad, because she knew Tess hadn’t said a nice thing just now. But since that not-nice thing had been aimed at Maria, she didn’t care so much.

The worst part, though, was that Michael was smirking, like he was proud of Maria or something. And without a word, he just walked off, too. Not in the same direction Maria had, but still . . . he went away. And for whatever reason, like usual, Isabel felt compelled to follow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Wasn’t giving a girl the brush-off supposed to get her . . . off? Like off your back? Like away from you? Because all Michael wanted was to be left alone—this was one of the few parties he’d gone to where he didn’t give a flying fuck about getting anyone’s attention—but apparently walking away from Isabel without so much as a second glance wasn’t a big enough brush-off, because she just followed him. It didn’t matter whether he picked up the pace, didn’t matter how many twists and turns he took. She trailed behind him like an obedient puppy dog.

“So that was awkward, huh?”

Great. Now she was talking.

“When Tess said that. Because she’s our friend, but . . . well, Maria’s your friend, too.”

She’s a little more than my friend, he thought, and he almost even said it.

“Tess shouldn’t have said that,” Isabel acknowledged, struggling to keep up with him as he wove through the other partygoers. “But Maria kind of overreacted.”

Michael stopped and whirled around at that. “How the hell was she supposed to react?” he challenged, jumping to her defense. “Tess was bein’ a bitch. I’m glad Maria stuck up for herself. If she hadn’t, I would’ve.”

“Of course.” Isabel rolled her eyes subtly. “Would you ever stick up for me?”

“No one’s ever mean to you,” he pointed out. Except me sometimes.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“God, Isabel.” She was ruining this experience for him. This party was supposed to be an escape tonight, an escape from home. But so far, he felt very trapped.

One of his friends came by and handed him a beer, and he thought about downing it. But with everything that had just happened with his dad, it just didn’t seem right. Not now. Not tonight.

He handed the beer over to Isabel, and she looked utterly confused. “So you’re really not drinking tonight?”

“No.” Was it really that hard to believe? “I thought you’d be happy.”

A blissfully hopeful smile found its way to her face. “So you quit drinking for me?”

“I didn’t quit drinking.”

“Oh.” And just like that, the bliss was gone, but the hopefulness remained. “But you’re not drinking tonight for me?”

“No.”

And now the hopefulness had vanished, too. “Oh.” Trying to conceal her disappointment, she looked down at the ground.

“Sorry, but . . .” It wasn’t all about her.

“No, it’s okay,” she cut in. “I just . . .” Sighing heavily, she shook her head. “I don’t know. I feel like there’s something going on that you’re not telling me.”

Damn right, he thought. There were a lot of somethings he wasn’t telling her and didn’t plan to. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

“Nah, everything’s alright,” he assured her, wondering how on earth she didn’t see right through him, see the truth.

Maybe she just didn’t want to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

So Michael wanted an escape. Maria got that. Understood it and supported it. But why had he chosen to escape here? It certainly wasn’t where she wanted to be, and she doubted it was where he wanted to be, either.

But then again, maybe this had nothing to do with where he wanted to be and everything to do with who he wanted to be. And who he didn’t want to be.

She’d lied to Tess and Isabel about planning to get wasted, just so Michael wouldn’t have to explain that he wasn’t drinking tonight because he was freaked out about his dad. Freaked out and panicked that he’d end up like him.

He wouldn’t, though, not if he kept trying to be better than that.

Even though she was strictly there for Michael, that didn’t stop guys from offering her drinks left and right. Whenever they did, she acted all excited about it, exclaiming, “Thanks!” But then, when they were no longer looking, she tossed the whole cup right over her shoulder. She had a nice little pile collecting just a few feet behind her.

( 8) )

Not many people spoke to her, and that was fine. Gave her the chance to just stand back and people-watch. It was amazing how she could tell so much about what was going on at that party just by reading people’s body language. Tess, for example, was clearly venting to Kyle about her, because they were standing over at his truck, and he was trying to get her into the passenger’s seat. But she was talking a mile a minute, stomping her feet, throwing her arms down at her sides. She seemed upset that he wasn’t just as pissed off as she was.

When Tess wasn’t paying attention, Kyle scanned the crowd and located Maria, mouthing a quick apology for his girlfriend’s behavior. Maria nodded in acceptance, figuring it was the best she would get. Tess was way too childish to ever do it herself.

Elsewhere, Isabel was trying to maintain Michael’s attention by talking his ear off. He kept pointing out people in different directions, though, like he was trying to get her to go talk to someone else. But she didn’t seem to be getting the hint. There were a lot of hints Isabel didn’t get.

At last, though, she gave him a breather when Kyle came and got her. It was probably her turn to try to calm Tess down. They both went to his truck, leaving Michael by himself.

Now he was free to stare at her, and she was free to stare at him from across the clearing. The rest of the party faded away, and he was the party. His eyes, the music. The low and seductive kind. The kind that put her in the mood and made it so she couldn’t resist.

There he stood, alone. And there she stood, likewise alone. They were alone together.

No words were necessary as he walked past her, careful not to come too close. She watched intently as he slipped off into the woods, and she knew it was her cue to follow him. So she did, without question, without any annoying second-guessing.

Concealed by the darkness, separated from the rest of the party, she let her mind start to wander, to think about what would happen, to admit, even, what she wanted to happen. It scared her, though, to know that he was so vulnerable right now, after everything that had occurred these past few days; because that would mean that any and all logic and reasoning would have to come from her. But she didn’t feel logical and she didn’t feel reasonable. She just felt . . . passionate.

She didn’t flinch or startle at all when his hand reached out to grab hold of hers, pulling her to him. She leaned back against a tree, letting him move in so close that his body was nearly enveloping hers. She loved the feel of being so small next to him. It made her feel safe and secure. His stance was so large and protective, and his body was radiating warmth. She could feel it.

“What’re we doing?” she asked him. This wasn’t the time or the place.

“Whatever we want.” He moved his knee in between her legs, urging them apart as he hovered closer still, his face mere inches from her own. When he raised that knee to rub against her in the all the right places, she shuddered in surprise.

“Michael . . .” She felt so turned on doing this with him where anyone could catch them. Maybe even Isabel. She held onto his hips while basically sitting on his leg, breathing in the scent of him, delighting in the feel of his breath on her cheek while his left hand came to rest at her hips. His other arm braced against the tree, trapping her there. As if she’d ever want to leave.

“Have sex with me.”

His words sent a quiver of desire up her spine. The bluntness of it, the pure, unadulterated want . . . the hunger . . . oh god, she couldn’t help but rub herself against his leg wantonly.

“You want to?” he asked.

What kind of question was that? Of course she wanted to. Obviously she wanted to. Obviously she’d never wanted anything more. Never wanted anyone more. Instead of telling him that, though, she showed him by moving her hand to massage the bulge in the front of his jeans.

Right here? her mind screamed. You’re seriously gonna do it right here? Part of her didn’t want to be that girl who would allow herself to get nailed up against a tree, but a larger part of her didn’t care as long as he ended up inside of her.

Oh, god.

Unfortunately, she quickly realized they weren’t alone when she heard leaves crunching. Pushing Michael away, she felt the thrill of potentially being caught vanish in an instant as the reality of it set in again.

There was Kyle, just a few feet away, and she had no idea what he’d seen or how much of it he’d seen, or if he’d even seen anything at all. He was speechless, though, so that made Maria’s heart race with trepidation.

“Kyle,” Michael said, trying to sound casual. But that was all he said, and that wasn’t casual.

“Isabel was lookin’ for you,” Kyle told him. “She needs your help with Tess.”

Maria averted her eyes from both of them, knowing that, even if Kyle hadn’t been able to see what they’d been up to when he’d first walked up on them, he had to suspect something now. Because if she looked half as obvious as she felt . . .

“Oh,” Michael said. “Okay.”

Not okay, she thought. What they were doing was so wrong and so potentially hurtful to the other person involved that they felt the need to sneak off into the woods to do it? No. Not okay.

“Excuse me,” she said, hurriedly scampering back to the party. Where she could be around other people who wouldn’t tempt her so much, where she might even take advantage of a few of those drinks guys were offering her. Anxiety was coursing through her, and it would be for the rest of the night. If Kyle really had just caught them, she didn’t want to be around when he confronted Michael about it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Though the party had been fun, it’d ended up coming to an abrupt end that night, mostly because of Tess’s absolute infuriation with Maria. It was unwarranted, as far as anyone could tell, but Tess kept insisting that Maria was the one being a bitch to her.

They all ended up leaving early, and Isabel was disappointed that Michael hadn’t even considered coming home with her. He looked tired, though, or like he still didn’t feel well or something. He definitely hadn’t been his typical party-hard self that night. Not that she minded. It was sort of nice not to have to worry about him getting smashed and hitting on other girls. But it was a little concerning, too, because he just didn’t seem like himself, and he’d barely said two words to her all night.

When she got home, she lumbered upstairs, feeling pretty exhausted herself. Before slipping into her room, though, she overheard her mom down at the end of the hall, talking on her phone. Her bedroom door was slightly ajar, so Isabel tiptoed forward and listened.

“I wanna see you, too,” her mom was saying, “but Izzy’s so mad at me right now. I need to give her time to get used to the idea of . . . us again.”

Isabel made a face of repulsion. Jim. Great. So not the person her mom needed to be talking to. It’d ended badly once; didn’t she realize it would end that way again?

“I know,” her mom said. “I love you, too.”

He doesn’t mean it, Isabel thought. When he tells you that, he doesn’t mean it.

“Maybe tomorrow night?” her mom proposed.

Not even wanting to think about what that meant, Isabel scurried off into her bedroom to try and get some sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With it being as nice as it was outside, Michael joined Kyle up at the old basketball courts outside East High the next day. Nobody played there anymore, so it was the perfect spot for a game of one-on-one.

Michael dribbled past his best friend, brought the ball up, and took a shot, attempting to mimic the fade-away maneuver he saw all the guys on the basketball team do. It didn’t work, though, and the ball bounced off the rim.

“Dammit,” he swore. “I hate basketball.” Hence the reason why he hardly ever played.

“I know,” Kyle agreed, scampering to retrieve the ball before it bounced away. “My dad wants me to play it sometimes, though.”

“Why?”

“Well, he says if I just play football, my body’s gonna get too used to just playing football,” Kyle explained, bouncing the ball back and forth from hand to hand. “That’s a limitation. Gotta switch it up once in a while, give the muscles and joints somethin’ else to do.”

“Huh.” Of course there was a legitimate reason behind it for Kyle. Someone with a future as bright as his always did everything for a reason. Michael, on the other hand, was just out there because he was bored.

“Speaking of dads . . .” Kyle bounce-passed the ball to Michael. “How’s yours?”

Michael shrugged, trying unsuccessfully to spin the ball on his index finger. “Dunno. I didn’t really talk to him much last night.”

“Especially not since you were at the party.”

Michael dropped the ball, his stomach tightening in apprehension now that Kyle had mentioned that. They hadn’t spoken about it, about what he may or may not have seen when he walked up on him and Maria. And he had no problem keeping it that way. Hopefully this wasn’t a segue.

“Pretty dramatic night, huh?” Kyle went on. “Tess was in true cheerleader form.”

“Well, she’s always kinda high drama,” Michael dismissed, lining the ball up carefully. He shot again, and once again he missed. “Man, I suck.”

“I finally got her to calm down after I took her home,” Kyle kept going. “She was pissed, though.”

Michael made a face. “Why?” Maria had barely even said anything to her.

Kyle shrugged. “I don’t know. I think she’s just . . . she’s protective of Isabel, you know? They’re best friends. She doesn’t wanna see anything bad happen to her.”

Feeling like that was some kind of hint, Michael walked over to pick up the ball. “What would happen to her?”

“You know . . . she could get hurt.”

Michael focused all his attention on the basketball, bouncing it rhythmically, trying desperately to get this game going again and get this conversation to start. “Wanna play Horse?” he asked.

“Not really,” Kyle admitted. “Actually, I was kinda . . . I was kinda hopin’ I could talk to you about somethin’.”

Oh, no. Here it was. He could sense it coming, and he felt powerless to stop it.

“See, I’m not excusing Tess’s behavior or anything. She’s a seventeen year-old girl. She flips out about stuff sometimes when she shouldn’t. But I think the reason for it . . .”

Michael sighed, holding the ball to his side with one arm, scratching his eyebrow with his free hand. “You know, maybe we should just call it a day.”

“. . . is because she sees you getting closer and closer to Maria, and she’s worried for her friend. So she lashes out,” Kyle explained.

“Yeah, I get it,” Michael said quickly. “It’s fine.”

Kyle shook his head. “No, it’s . . . it’s not fine, man. I actually think . . . I think it’s warranted.”

“What?”

“Her concern. ‘cause you’re in pretty deep with Maria, man. Deeper than you’ll admit.”

Michael made a face, pretending he had no idea what his friend was talking about. “Well, yeah, other than you, she’s my best friend.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Kyle said. “I think it’s more than that.”

“More than that?”

“Yeah.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. What I walked up on last night.”

Michael tensed. Shit.

Kyle narrowed his eyes, asking, “What was that?”

That was lust, Michael thought, a shiver of nervousness traversing his spine. And need. And probably a whole lot more. “Nothin’,” he lied. “We were just talking.”

“No, you weren’t.”

Fuck. They’d definitely been found out. If there was anyone he could talk to about it, though, it was Kyle, so maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing. “How much did you see?” he asked.

“How much was there to see?”

Michael dropped the ball, letting it roll away across the court. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. He had no idea what that might have amounted to had they not been interrupted. He liked to think that he wouldn’t have been such a jerk that he’d do Maria up against a tree, but really, he might have.

“Are you hookin’ up with her?” Kyle outright asked.

“No.”

Kyle gave him a look.

“I don’t know. Define hooking up.”

“Are you sleeping with her?”

“No. Well . . .” He groaned, thinking literally. “Define sleeping.”

“What?”

“I haven’t had sex with her.”

“But you’ve done something.”

“Yeah, kissed her a few times. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Kyle echoed. “Dude, you have a girlfriend.”

“I know.”

“How long have you--”

“Just, like, a week or so. But I’ve had a thing for her for a while. Like . . . since Christmas. That’s kinda when it dawned on me.”

“Is this like the Liz thing all over again?” Kyle asked.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“No, this is different.”

“Really? Because exactly one year ago, you got restless with Isabel, so you sought out other options.”

“Maria’s not just some other option; she’s . . .” Truth be told, he had a hard time describing what exactly she was to him. She wasn’t his girlfriend and Dylan wasn’t his son. But they felt more like family than his own family did most days. “Kyle, I’m in love with her,” he blurted, surprised how good it felt to say it to someone else.

Kyle didn’t look surprised, but he still questioned it. “How do you know?”

“How do I--” What kind of question was that? He didn’t drop the L-word very often, at least not genuinely, so of course he knew. “How do you know you’re in love with Tess? You just know. You think about her all the time. You’d give up everything just to be touching her. That’s how it is with Maria. I can’t get her off my mind.”

“But what about Isabel?”

“What about her?” He honestly didn’t mean to make it sound like he didn’t care, but . . . when was she just going to give up on him? She should have done it a long time ago.

“This is the second time you’ve cheated on her. It’s gonna devastate her. That girl loves you, man.”

“I know.” That was her mistake. “And she’s beautiful and smart and going places in life, so she’ll make any guy happy.”

“Do you even care about her?”

“Yeah.” If he didn’t, he would’ve broken up with her a long time ago, back when his feelings for Maria had first begun to surface. “I just don’t love her the way she loves me.” It was because he cared, though, that he was still pretending, still going through the motions with her, unable to break it off. He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was probably already hurting.

Kyle shook his head, putting his hands on his hips. “I feel bad for her. But the sooner she knows, the better.”

“Actually . . .” He’d been thinking about it a lot, and he thought he had a pretty solid idea in mind. “I was thinking I could just break up with her but not tell her about me and Maria. And then Maria and I don’t have to announce ourselves as a couple for a few months, so Isabel never has to know I broke up with her because of Maria. You know?”

“No. That’s a pretty stupid idea,” Kyle told him bluntly. “And it’s not fair to her. That girl’s been pretty good to you. You at least owe it to her to be honest.”

“But it’ll hurt her more.”

“No, it’ll hurt her more if you lie to her. She’s a smart girl; she’ll figure it out. And you and Maria aren’t as good at hiding things as you thought you were.” There was a bite in Kyle’s voice, just the slightest trace of hostility. And Michael knew, in that moment, that he was mad at him. Or disappointed. Or both. Kyle would always have his back, and he’d always be his friend, but he wouldn’t always agree with the things he did. And he’d never agree with this. He was loyal to Tess to a fault, and he couldn’t understand why Michael wouldn’t be loyal to Isabel. At the end of the day, as close as they were, they were two very different people.

But Maria was a different person, too. Different than Isabel. Different than Liz. And what he felt for her was most certainly different on a level he still couldn’t conceive. And because of that, he was willing to hurt Isabel, as horrible as it would be to her. He had to.

“You have to tell her,” Kyle mumbled. “She deserves the truth.”

Michael nodded solemnly, realizing that, accepting it. The truth. After all the hurt he was going to pile on, the truth was the least he could give her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Crap. Worthless crap. Even more worthless crap. Michael wasn’t at all impressed with what was on TV that night. He wanted to watch something that would take his mind off of . . . everything, but with the NFL season officially over, nothing would suffice. The best he could find was Duck Dynasty, and that had lost its appeal long ago.

Lucky for him, he didn’t have to channel-surf for long, because Maria came home a little earlier than he’d expected. She’d changed out of her work uniform and was in regular clothes now. She looked like she could barely keep her eyes open when she walked in the door.

“Hey,” he said, turning off the TV and walking over to her. “How was work?”

She shrugged and replied, “Tiring.”

“Yeah, you look tired.” He still thought she looked hot, though, so he had added, “But also good.”

She smiled a little, letting herself be charmed by his flirtations, but then, as if she’d coached herself not to, she quit, averting her eyes. “Is Dylan still awake?” she asked as she removed her coat.

“No, he fell asleep about an hour ago.”

“Good.” She hung her coat on the rack, kicked off her shoes, and said, “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

He couldn’t help but give her an intrigued look. Because the thought of her in the shower . . . it was enough to drive him crazy.

She seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, and she was probably thinking it, too, because suddenly, it was like she couldn’t get upstairs fast enough.

“Maria,” he called, stopping her midway up the stairs.

She took a couple steps back down hesitantly.

Standing on the other side of the railing, he peered up at her, feeling like Romeo in that damn balcony scene. Only he wasn’t as naturally romantic or suave. He didn’t have a playwright composing his lines for him, so he just said what he felt like he needed to say. “Do you love me?”

She just stared at him in disbelief, as though that were the last question she’d expected him to ask. But he needed to know. He needed to be sure that what he was feeling was real, that it wasn’t one-sided. He didn’t think it was, but he had to hear it from her. If he was going to end things with Isabel, devastate her for the second time in a year, he had to know this girl’s heart belonged to him.

He was about to ask it again when she answered quietly. “Yes.”

He breathed a subtle sigh of relief. Then it was worth it. It would all be worth it.

Before either one of them could say more, his mom came scurrying downstairs, trying to conceal a can of beer. Oh goodie, his dad was at it again, and she was cleaning up after him.

“Oh, Maria, you’re home,” she said.

Maria just smiled at her. Just barely. Her eyes still lingered on Michael.

“Michael, you’d better get to sleep,” his mother advised as she headed into the kitchen. “Don’t you have a big test tomorrow?”

He didn’t reply. But she was right, in a way. He would be tested. Just not on any school subject.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Breaking up with Isabel was proving to be especially difficult, mostly because she wasn’t letting him get a word in edgewise. She sat with him on her bed the next evening, shoveling in spoonful after spoonful of strawberry ice cream. He took a few bites here and there, listening as she ranted about her mom and Jim. He supposed there were opportunities to jump in here and there, maybe change the subject. Or he could always just blurt it out that they were over, but that wasn’t very tactful. Not that he ever had a lot of tact. He just . . . he really wasn’t trying very hard. Part of him was hoping that she’d have a change of heart and just suddenly decide to break up with him, on a whim like that. That would have made things easier on both of them.

But her heart was unchangeable. Clearly. After all, she’d given him a second chance when she shouldn’t have.

“It’s like, every spare second she gets, she’s on the phone with him, or emailing him, or sneaking out to meet him,” Isabel kept on and on. “And I’m like, ‘Mom, you don’t have to sneak around. I know what you’re doing.’ And she’s all, ‘Well, I know it upsets you that we’re back together.’ And I’m like, ‘Obviously it upsets me. He’s a jerk. I don’t know why you’d give him a second chance.’”

Did she even hear herself? How could she not understand the real reason why her mom and Jim upset her so much? “Maybe she just sees something good in him,” he reasoned.

“Yeah, right,” she grunted, setting the ice cream carton aside. “Whatever. I’m tired of thinking about it. That’s why I’m glad you’re here.” She moved closer, hooking one leg over his lap so that she was straddling him, looping her arms around his neck. “You can get my mind on other things.” Smirking, she kissed him, and he kissed her back, only because that was what he was accustomed to doing. But he wasn’t about to let it go on too long.

Pulling back after a few kisses, he saw his chance to get this done and over with. “Isabel . . .”

“Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly. “I should give you your present.” She hopped down off his lap and skipped over to her dresser, pulling open the top drawer.

“What?” he asked.

“For Valentine’s Day,” she elaborated. “I know it’s not ‘til tomorrow, and you can wait to give me my present then. But I can’t hold off on yours any longer.” She dug around the drawer and pulled out a red card-sized envelope. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she said, handing it over to him. She’d written his name on the front in this fancy calligraphy-type writing.

Oh, crap, he thought, sighing. This was the worst timing for a breakup and he knew it. But hell, better to get it done today than to do it on the actual day of February 14. He’d already let this go on way too long.

“Well, what’re you waiting for?” she prodded. “Open it.”

He felt stupid, like he didn’t know what to do. If he didn’t open it, he’d probably offend her even more. Whatever it was, he’d just give it back when this was all said and done. “Okay,” he said, slicing open the envelope. He took out the card, perplexed as to why it had a shirtless Latino guy on the front. It was one of those motion cards, too, so when you moved it in certain directions, the pecs jiggled. When he opened it, the inside read, Oops, sorry, I meant to give this card to myself.

“Funny,” he remarked dryly.

“Well, I figured a sappy, romantic card would be lost on you, so I went with this instead.”

“This is good.” She’d written him something, too. It was practically an essay, so he wasn’t about to sit there and read the whole thing, but he could tell from just the first few lines that it was all about how much she loved him.

Great.

“Look at what else is in there,” she urged.

There was more? Oh, of course there was. She just had to make this even harder.

He reached back into the envelope and took out two . . . plane tickets?

Oh, crap.

“Surprise!” she squealed excitedly.

“What’re these?”

“We’re going to Paris!” she exclaimed. “This summer. Our last hurrah before we—I mean, I . . . you know, before college. It’s gonna be so fun.”

He stared at the plane tickets in utter shock and disbelief. One for her, one for him. Round-trip. A one-week vacation to another fucking country? Even if he had remembered to get her a present, his would have paled in comparison.

“My mom and I went when I was twelve. I loved it there,” she raved.

“Paris.” This was unreal. He was cheating on her and she was planning a European vacation. Could they have possibly been on two more separate pages? “Isabel, I can’t go,” he told her.

“Sure you can,” she insisted. “It’s not all boring museums, you know. There’s lots of nightclubs and nude beaches. You’ll love it there.”

“No, I can’t,” he kept on. “I can’t go with you.”

“Why not?” she asked, still sounding hopeful that he’d change his tune. “Do you have something going on? Because I can reschedule our flight. We could go in July instead.”

“No.” She didn’t get it. She just . . . didn’t get it.

“Okay,” she said slowly, sounding confused. “Do you not wanna go?”

“No.”

“No, you don’t wanna go?”

“I don’t wanna go.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . .” He trailed off, groaning inwardly. How was he supposed to tell her in this? In many ways, the last time had been so much easier. Having her walk in on him and Liz like she had . . . it had allowed him to avoid this uncomfortable moment. Because right then and there, it had just been done. Totally and completely, no doubt about it. It had been hard on her, sure, but at least it had been fast. This . . . he felt like this was dragging itself out more and more by the minute.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, putting her hand on his arm.

What wasn’t? He was wrong, and what he’d done to her was wrong. Everything was wrong. “Isabel . . .” His mouth felt dry, the words trapped down inside. “There’s somethin’ I need to tell you.”

She slowly removed her hand, her eyes worriedly downcast as she asked, “What is it?”

He let out a heavy exhale, trying to think of the best way to do this. Or the easiest. One of the two. “Lately I’ve been thinking . . .” He rolled his eyes at how lame that sounded but continued on anyway. “I don’t know if it’s gonna work out between us.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I just . . . you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” She stood up, staring down at him accusingly. “Is this about college?” she demanded. “The fact that I’m leaving?”

“No.”

It was like she didn’t even hear him. “Because you could come with me.”

“I’m not gonna.”

She whimpered frustratedly, wringing her hands together. “Well, then . . . you can just stay here, and I’ll be back on breaks, and . . . we’ll make it work. We can make the long-distance thing work.”

“I don’t wanna stay here,” he informed her. “I wanna go to college in Alabama.” Here it goes, he thought. “With Kyle.” No turning back now. “And Maria.”

Everything about Isabel froze. Her hands froze, entangled in front of her. Her feet froze. Her eyes froze. Her mouth froze. And that was how he could tell . . . she knew. She got it now.

“Isabel.” He stood up, trying to reach out to her. “I’m sorry.”

She took a step back, still not saying anything, but her eyes were full of distrust and dismay.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” he admitted.

“What . . .” Even though she had to be connecting the dots, clearly she didn’t want to believe it. “What’re you . . . telling me?”

“Is . . .”

“What’re you saying? You’re . . .” She trailed off, shaking her head incredulously. “No.”

“I’m so sorry.”

No.

“I never meant to--”

“No!” she screamed. “Are you—are you kidding me?” She backed up so far that she bumped into her closed bedroom door. “You’re dumping me so you can be with her?

Oh . . . crap. Maybe she didn’t get it, not all of it. “Isabel, I’m already with her,” he revealed.

She gripped her doorknob, as though she were about to flee any second. “What?” she ground out.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, feeling like a broken record. “I didn’t mean to--”

“You’re cheating on me?” she blared, immediately starting to cry. Holding one hand over her mouth, she sobbed, “Oh my god!”

“Isabel, I’m so sorry.” He tried to get closer to her, but she shoved him aside, storming back over to her bed. She sat down, cried a bit, then stood back up again.

“How could you?” she accused. “How could you do this to me?”

“It just happened.”

What just happened?” she demanded. “Did you sleep with her?”

“No.”

For a second, she looked relieved, like she felt like maybe . . . maybe it’d be alright. Maybe she could look past it. He wasn’t about to allow her that false hope, though.

“But I think . . . I’m going to.” She had to know that.

Eyes blazing with anger, she marched straight toward him and slapped him across the face. “You bastard,” she growled. “I gave you everything. I gave you a second chance. God, how could I be so stupid?

“You’re not stupid.”

“Oh, really? Because you’re standing here telling me that you’re cheating on me again. It’s happening all over again!” Sinking to the floor, she covered her face with both her hands, wailing hysterically. “God, why is this happening? It’s not fair!”

“Is . . .” He knelt down beside her, but she crawled a few feet away.

“I tried so hard!” she cried, looking beautiful even with tears streaming down her face. “And you told me it’d be okay. You said you loved me.”

Clasping one hand over his mouth, feeling pretty damn emotional himself, he realized that he did love her. Very much so. As cliché as it sounded, he just wasn’t in love with her.

“I’m such an idiot!” she shrieked.

“No, you’re not.”

“I hate you!”

He couldn’t blame her for that. He’d never get even her friendship back now. It was too late for that. Too much had happened. He’d burned his Isabel bridge for all eternity. After all was said and done here, she’d probably never speak to him again.

Clamoring back up to her feet, she demanded, “How long?”

He stood again, answering, “A few weeks.”

“You’ve been hooking up with her for a few weeks?”

“Well, I realized I was feeling something around Christmas, so . . .”

“I’m gonna be sick,” she said, holding one hand to her stomach. “How could you . . .” She glared at him. “We’ve slept together since then.”

“I know. Look, it’s nothing you did wrong,” he assured her, meaning every word of it. “It’s just . . . Maria understands me.”

“And I don’t?”

“No, you . . . you can’t.” She was this insanely talented girl headed for the Ivy League. They had a whole lot of nothing in common. “We don’t fit. You deserve better than me.”

“But I only want you, Michael!” she sobbed. “I just wanna be with you!”

“I don’t,” he said bluntly. “I don’t wanna be with you.”

“Because of her?” She huffed, shaking her head furiously. “God, why’re you . . . are you in love with her?”

“I am.”

“Unbelievable,” she growled. “No, you know what? You don’t even know what love is!”

He did, though. And this wasn’t it.

“Get out of here!” she shouted, seizing the plane tickets back from him. “Get out!” She tore them in half, throwing them on the floor. “Get out of my house! Get out of my life! I hate you!”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, wishing he’d come up with a better way to do this. Wishing he’d never let it get this bad in the first place. “I really am.” He turned and left the room, unable to bear looking at her any longer, seeing that pain in her eyes, knowing he’d been the one to cause it . . .

He heard her start to cry even harder the second he was gone.

It’d been a lot easier last time, because back then, he hadn’t let himself feel nearly as much as he did now.

But it was done. And that was what mattered.

It was done.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Had that really just happened?

Isabel felt like she couldn’t breathe, like she was literally gasping for air. Every breath she heaved in came back out as a strangled sob, and all she could think was that she was having a nightmare, one she desperately wanted to wake up from.

Had that really just happened?

She collapsed onto her bed, curling up on her side, her entire body convulsing as she cried. If her mom had been home, she would have come running upstairs, terrified, because she was nearly screaming at this point. Gripping her bedspread tightly, she curled her knees into her chest, allowing herself to feel pathetic. And confused.

How had that happened?

They’d been fine. He’d come over to hang out, and she’d been so excited about giving him that present, and everything had been fine. And now . . . it wasn’t.

She wasn’t fine.

Even though she didn’t want to be that girl who cried this much over a guy, even though she didn’t want to be so devastated, she couldn’t help it. She loved Michael Guerin, and she’d done everything she could to be with him. And not once, but twice it hadn’t been enough. She hadn’t been enough.

She didn’t understand.

Michael had broken her heart, and in that moment, she was convinced that he’d broken all of her in the process.








TBC . . .

-April
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LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
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April
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Part 44

Post by April »

Another busy day means another update delay. But only a slight delay. I'm devoted.


fadedblue:
I'm incredibly relieved that Michael finally broke up with Isabel but I have this sinking feeling Isabel is gonna unleash a shitstorm and bring Max back into the picture, maybe even try to get Dylan taken away from Maria?? I realize this isn't the usual vindictively evil Isabel I've gotten used to from your stories :lol: but I feel like this Isabel could do an equal amount of damage because of how hurt she is by michael...
Well, she's definitely not 521/522 Isabel ( :twisted: ) but she is certainly very hurt right now and might lash out. Her feelings towards Michael have always been very consuming, and they will continue to be that, even though they're no longer a couple.

Eva:
And then he did it! Yes! Breaking up is never easy but he needed to do that. He needed the closure before taking another step. His feelings were already to developed to turn them off, even if he tried to. Which he clearly couldn't anymore.
Yes, it was wrong for him to explore his feelings for Maria while he was still with Isabel, but at least he found the strength to end things with Isabel before he and Maria went any further.
Kyle gave him the last push, just like a good friend should have.
Michael is very lucky he has Kyle as a best friend.

Sara:
I hope Michael and Maria know what they are doing
:lol: They have no idea.
And the almost makeout session in the woods between Michael and Maria...was RISKY!!! Whoa!
Oh, yes, that scene was so fun to write! One of the most seductive scenes in the entire story, I think.

Carolyn:
Wonder if Max will be brought into the picture?
I am so curious about that situation.
Stay tuned. ;)
Little Dylan is breaking my heart.......he wants Micho to be daddy.
He wants it more than anything. :(

Rod:
Wow... was that a sliver of a conscious I saw in Michael? When it comes to someone else feeling? When breaking up with Isabel? :shock: Wow will wonders never cease!
Michael definitely has a conscience. Sometimes other things like hormones and immaturity and impulsiveness get in the way of it, but it's there, and it made breaking up with Isabel a difficult but necessary thing to do.
While Tess was mean in saying what she said she was only looking out for her best friend. And I can't fault her on that because Michael and Maria are not innocent in all this.
They are certainly not innocent. Tess is a high drama teenage girl, which can be exhausting, but she's also an extremely loyal friend. So maybe she shouldn't have said that, but maybe she also wasn't completely wrong to say it.


Thank you so very much for the feedback!








Part 44








The day after. It was the worst part of a breakup, really. Knowing that everyone else would know by now . . . knowing that she’d had a day to let it sink in, so if he did end up seeing her, she’d probably feel even worse than before . . . Michael wasn’t looking forward to it.

He got himself up and ready for school, just because he thought he’d seem like he was avoiding her if he didn’t show up there. It was quite possible, though, that she’d skip a day. As devoted as she was to her academics, she’d also been extremely devoted to him. Maybe she’d need some space. Maybe her day after would be spent alone.

He tried not to think too much about what a crappy day it would be as he sat at the table that morning, eating breakfast with everyone except his dad. Tina was the one doing most of the talking. She was excited about a play their fifth grade class was putting on for the younger grades that day. She said a few of her lines out loud for Dylan, who got a good laugh out of it. It was good to see her in better spirits, because she hadn’t been that way since the incident with their dad.

Maria looked tired, not at all wanting to go to work that day. Every once in a while, he’d nudge her foot with his beneath the table, or reach down and brush his hand against her leg. Whenever he did that, the corners of her mouth pulled upward just slightly, subtly, and soon, she didn’t look so tired anymore.

“I’m sorry about breakfast,” his mom apologized as she cleared their plates from the table. “I can’t believe I burnt the toast.”

“It’s okay,” Maria assured her. “It was just . . . crispy.”

“It was fine, Mom,” he added, glancing at the clock with a heavy sigh. School started in twenty minutes. Kyle would be by to get him soon.

“We’d better go,” his mom said. “I’ve gotta drop you kids off, and Maria, we’ve got a long day of inventory ahead of us.”

“Joy,” she mumbled sarcastically, standing up. “Come on, Dylan.” She lifted him off his chair and told him to go put his shoes on.

“Okay!” he exclaimed, running towards the door.

“Are you guys gonna come see my play?” Tina asked.

“Oh, honey . . . I can’t,” their mom told her apologetically. “It’s gonna be a busy work day.”

Tina pouted. “But it’s gonna be good.”

“I would,” Maria told her, “but I’m gonna be at work, too.”

Her pout intensified.

“Hey, I’ll come,” Michael volunteered. “I’ll just skip out on my last few classes.”

“No, you won’t,” his mom said, giving him a sharp look. A don’t-set-that-kind-of-example-for-your-sister look. He saw that a lot.

“It’s okay,” Tina muttered, shoulders slumped as she headed for the door. She put on her coat, then plopped down next to Dylan to put on her shoes. “You’re tying them wrong,” she informed him.

“I don’t know how,” he admitted.

“Here.” Once she was done with hers, she reached over and fixed his for him.

Michael watched the two of them, momentarily forgetting about the horrible day that awaited him. It was sort of cool to see his little sister with Dylan. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who thought of the kid as family.

“That’s cute,” Maria remarked.

“Yeah, it is,” Krista agreed. “I’ll go get him in the car.”

“Thanks.” Maria sat back down again, and Michael waited until his mom had left the kitchen to let his eyes openly linger all over her. God, he wanted her. Was it wrong to want to hook up with her so badly after he’d just ended things with Isabel? If it was, he didn’t care.

She didn’t have to look at him as long as Dylan and Tina were still in the house, but once Krista ushered them out to the car and they were alone, she had no choice. “You okay?” she asked. “You were really quiet last night.”

“I’m alright,” he assured her, leaning back in his chair. He hadn’t told her about everything, because he just hadn’t had the chance. Dylan had been having one of his wild up-all-night kind of nights—a rare thing, but it happened once in a while—and she’d been preoccupied.

“You’ve been pretty quiet this morning, too,” she pointed out.

“Yeah.” He wanted to move closer and kiss her. Just for the heck of it. Why not? But if they started kissing, they might not be able to stop; and they both had places to be soon.

“I broke up with Isabel,” he blurted.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she didn’t say anything. He expected her to smile any minute, be happy about it, but her expression didn’t change.

Come on, he thought. That changes everything. There was nothing standing in the way anymore, no excuse for them to not be together. Selfishly, he wanted some immediate confirmation that that would happen, that now that Isabel was no longer a factor, she’d let herself give in. She’d stop putting up that stupid pillow wall at night because there was no need for a wall anymore. Nothing in between them.

She opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, but then the car horn honked from outside, and Dylan shouted, “Mommy, les go!”

Dammit, he thought. Wrong moment to tell her. She had no time to react. Now he was going to spend all day thinking about it, wondering what she would say to him when they got home.

“I . . .” She shrugged helplessly and got up, quickly heading out the door.

Kyle came and picked him up about five minutes after the others left. They didn’t say much to each other on the drive to school, but Kyle did ask him how he was doing. And he warned him that he was probably going to have to deal with a lot of backlash from West Roswell’s female population today because, after all, he’d dumped the most popular girl in school the day before Valentine’s Day. Therefore, hatred.

He wasn’t kidding.

Unfortunately, Kyle had to go make up a quiz before class started that day, so that meant Michael had to walk the halls on his own, with the full knowledge that every time somebody whispered, they were probably talking about him. Every time someone stared, they were thinking about him, about what he’d done. Jase, Antonio, and Bubba all found him by his locker and congratulated him on being free of the ‘ball and chain,’ but no one else seemed to think it had been a smart move. Ending things with Isabel Evans? The consensus from most of the other guys seemed to be that no sane person did that.

The girls were a different story, though. Even though most of them would probably return to trying to sleep with him in a week’s time, for now, they were all Team Isabel. Especially the cheerleaders. They walked by Michael as a unit while he sat alone at one of the cafeteria tables, led by Tess, of course. Each one of them gave him the meanest, most disgusted, most furious glare they could muster. And then when Tess wasn’t looking, Roxie stupidly winked and gave him the ‘call me’ sign.

Rain check.

But in the midst of all that silent hostility, it was blatantly apparent that one girl was missing. The girl herself, Isabel. Apparently she was indeed planning on spending her day after alone. If she had shown up, though, her friends most definitely would have congratulated her. They would have assured her that she was better off without him, that he was just a loser and this would be a good thing in the long run. And maybe they would’ve been right.

He wasn’t in the mood to sit through another one of Ms. Alvarez’s boring English lectures, but he trudged into the classroom and sat down anyway just as the bell was ringing. It was an odd feeling, walking past all those other people as he got to his seat on the far side of the classroom, because they all fell silent as he passed, a clear indicator that each and every one of them had just been talking about him and Isabel. Gossiping. Like it was any of their god-damned business.

Choosing to be a non-participant, he just sat there while everyone else took out a sheet of paper and started copying down the notes that Ms. Alvarez had projected up on the board. He thought about Isabel for a few minutes, and then he thought about Maria. When he thought about Isabel, he felt bad, honestly and truly guilty in a way he hadn’t anticipated. But when he thought about Maria, it all vanished, because he knew she was worth it. What he was feeling for her . . . most definitely worth it.

About fifteen minutes into the class, the door opened, and much to his shock, Isabel came in. She was dressed down in a grey sweatshirt and jeans. Her hair was up in a sloppy ponytail, and for the first time since he’d known her, he was pretty sure she hadn’t put any makeup on. She looked . . . like a girl who’d just gotten dumped.

“Isabel.” Even Ms. Alvarez sounded surprised to see her looking like that. “Do you have a pass?”

Isabel just shook her head and sat down at her desk. Her desk that was only one away from his. Too close.

“Well, go ahead and take out a piece of paper,” Ms. Alvarez instructed. “You can copy these notes while we’re discussing.”

She nodded but neglected to do so. Ms. Alvarez didn’t push it. She just continued on with class, seeming to sense that her star student was just having a rough day.

I’m sorry, Isabel, Michael thought, watching her for a bit. But since everyone else was watching her, too, he decided to look away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael let out a huge yawn as Kyle tried to quiz him for the next day’s English test. They’d decided to go back to Kyle’s place after lifting some weights that afternoon, but even though Kyle wanted to study, all Michael really wanted to do was kill time. If he recalled correctly, Maria was working at the Crashdown that evening, so there was no point in going home until she got there.

Except . . . he wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind to study. Never was, really.

“Okay,” Kyle repeated. “One last time: Explain one theme of the novel.”

Stretched out on his friend’s bed, Michael didn’t even try to formulate a decent response. “Don’t screw your mom.”

“Wow, really, man?”

“What? You said a theme was the life lesson. That’s the life lesson I picked up from this story.”

“Okay.” Kyle shut his binder and set it aside on his desk. “We’re obviously getting nowhere.”

“Five years from now, none of us are gonna remember anything about Oedipus other than the fact that he screwed his mom and gauged his eyes out. You know I’m right.”

“Well . . .” Kyle shrugged. “Maybe.” He picked up his feet and spun his computer chair around a few times. “Let’s just call it a night on the studying. I’ll give you a ride home. Then I gotta call Tess.”

“Phone sex?” Michael guessed.

“Uh, no, more like just seein’ how her day was.”

Michael grunted. “Better than Isabel’s, I’d wager.”

“Yeah.” Kyle slowed his chair to a stop, leaning forward. “Did you get a chance to talk to her?”

“Nope.” Michael picked up a little rubber football off Kyle’s nightstand and tossed it up into the air, catching it as it came back down. He kept on doing that as he lay there, wishing football season was still going on. It would’ve been nice to have that as a distraction.

“She looked pretty upset today,” Kyle noted. “I didn’t even think she’d come to school.”

“Well, you know Isabel.” Even when she was feeling her worst, she didn’t have it in her to skip class.

“Yeah. Tess said she was . . . pretty torn up last night.”

“Yeah.” It would be hard to ever forget what it was like to hear her cry as he left the house yesterday. That was something he was going to have to carry with him, knowing that he’d been the one to cause her so much pain. Again.

“Did you tell her everything?” Kyle asked.

“Pretty much.”

“Pretty much?”

He threw the football up in the air again, and this time, he missed an easy catch on the way back down. It bounced off his hands and rolled on the floor across the room. “I didn’t tell her Maria and I have been sleeping in the same bed for months.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, we’ve been . . . doing that.”

Kyle shook his head disappointedly.

“I’m a jerk. I know.”

“But she knows you have feelings for Maria?”

“She knows I’m in love with her,” Michael clarified.

“Oh, well . . . that must’ve been a pleasant conversation. But hey, on the bright side, at least she didn’t catch you guys in the act this time. I had that privilege.”

“We weren’t in the act,” Michael corrected. “We were . . . getting there.”

“Well, regardless . . .” Kyle got up and walked over to the other side of the room to retrieve his football. “I’m glad it’s all out in the open. No more secrets, no more lies. You and Maria can do your thing, and hopefully someday Isabel will forgive you.”

“Hopefully,” Michael agreed, but he doubted it. She’d already forgiven him once. Twice was too much to ask, and he wasn’t about to delude himself into thinking it would be possible this time around. “Did you hear a lot of people talking today?” he asked.

“Uh . . .” Kyle sat down in his computer chair again, tossing Michael the football. “Kind of. I mostly hear Tess, you know.”

“Is she gonna kill me?”

“No, I talked her down from that.” Kyle managed to laugh a little. “No, she’s pretty pissed, though. She’s even pissed at me for hangin’ out with you right now.”

“Great.” Now he wasn’t just fucking up his own relationships, but he was fucking up his friends’, too? Not that Kyle’s and Tess’s rock-solid relationship could ever be fucked up, but still . . .

“It’ll blow over,” Kyle assured him. “You did the right thing.”

“Yeah, better late than never.” Michael swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “You wanna take me home now?” He was tired of talking about it.

“Sure.” Kyle grabbed his keys and headed out of the room. Michael followed him, but they both stopped in the hallway when the front door open, and in came Kyle’s dad with Isabel’s mom, both looking like they were barely going to make it to the bedroom without ripping each other’s clothes off.

“Oh, sick,” Kyle muttered.

“Shit!” Michael hissed, darting back into the bedroom. Kyle scampered after him and shut the door.

“What am I gonna do?” Michael fretted. “I can’t go out there. She’ll rip my head off.” He still had verbal scars from the last time Diane Evans had confronted him about cheating on her daughter.

“Okay, out the window,” Kyle instructed, lifting up the pane. “Go.”

Feeling like he was public enemy number one to over half the town now, Michael groaned as he hoisted himself outside.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel’s heartbreak had gone from painful to all-consuming. She hadn’t slept at all last night, and she doubted tonight would be any better. She’d spent every second since Michael had called it off thinking about him, wishing she would have been able to prevent it, wondering, pathetically, if it would be possible to ever reconcile someday. Doing all of these things limited her energy to do anything else. She was pretty much reduced to just basic functions, like getting up and going to the bathroom once in a while, eating a handful of crackers when she was hungry, and breathing. Barely.

School had been awful, but at least it was a weekend now. She’d been scheduled to cheer at a basketball game, but thankfully, one of the other girls was filling in since, obviously, she wasn’t feeling very cheerful.

She knew the whole high school population was buzzing about it. It was gossip to them, fodder for meaningless conversations. The only person she could truly talk to was Tess. She hadn’t even told her mom yet.

Luckily, Tess basically refused to leave her side. She’d accompanied her from class to class at school, carrying on one-way conversations in the hallway about trivial things just to make it seem, to others, that everything was fine. And tonight, even though Isabel was basically incapacitated with grief, Tess was sleeping over. She would be the only one who slept.

Isabel lay on her side on her bed, facing away, trying to concentrate on breathing as depressing song after depressing song wafted throughout the room. Almost in time with the beat, Tess’s phone kept vibrating. Isabel could hear it.

Finally, she said, “Your phone keeps going off.”

“I know,” Tess said as she sat up in bed beside Isabel, flipping through a magazine with one of the Kardashians on the front. “It’s just Kyle. I don’t wanna talk to him.”

First time for everything, Isabel thought, managing to crack a small, appreciative smile as she turned over. “Tess . . .”

“What? He’s hanging out with he-who-shall-remain-nameless, A.K.A.: Michael.”

Isabel didn’t even bother pointing out that Tess had, in fact, just named him. “You can’t blame him for that. They’re best friends.”

“Well, he shouldn’t be friends with such a loser.”

“And I shouldn’t have dated one,” she mumbled.

Tess closed her magazine, shoulders slumping as she shared the sadness. “This is all my fault,” she lamented. “If I hadn’t persuaded you guys to get back together . . .”

“It probably would’ve happened no matter what,” Isabel assured her.

“Yeah, but still . . .” Tess sighed.

“Okay, you’re right. It’s totally your fault,” Isabel agreed sarcastically. “It’s totally all your fault that Michael lost interest in me again and developed a thing for Maria.”

“Ugh.” Tess rolled her eyes. “Maria. What’s he even see in her? She’s such a slut. Like, does he even remember that she has a kid? With another guy!”

“With my brother.” Couldn’t forget that.

“Yeah, see? That’s slutty. He probably only likes her because she gives him easy access.”

“Actually, he said they haven’t slept together.”

“And you believe him?”

“I . . .” She brought her arms in close to her chest and scrunched her legs up, shivering at the possibility of even more lies. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“And I’m sorry,” Tess went on, “but she’s got nothing on you. I mean, you’re Isabel Evans. You’re gonna go to Princeton and become a famous writer.”

Writing, Isabel thought. Well, Alex had been right about her story. She was definitely going to have to alter the ending now.

“You’re the most popular girl in school,” Tess bragged on her behalf. “You’re a cheerleader. She’s a freakin’ waitress.”

“He said she understands him.” Isabel frowned. “How do I not do that? I tried so hard.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Tess reassured her. “He’s the one who made a mistake, and sooner or later, he’s gonna realize that. And he’ll probably come begging for your forgiveness, but you know he’s not worth it now. You’re better than him.”

Was she? It was easy to believe that, since she was the wronged party here. But even though he had deceived her . . . she had allowed herself to be deceived. Looking back, the writing had been on the wall for a long, long time, and she’d just ignored it. What kind of person did that make her? She was such a doormat, and the fact that she was letting herself be consumed by the situation like this . . . had so much of herself really been tied to him? It was a disturbing question, but one she couldn’t help but ponder.

“I tried to be understanding, and patient,” she whimpered. “I tried to act cool and not freak out when she moved in with him, or when he brought her to games or parties. I tried to be nice to her. But I think, deep down . . .” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I knew. I knew something wasn’t right.”

He’s not right,” Tess affirmed. “He’s an idiot. If he thinks he and Maria are gonna ride off together into the sunset, he’s got another thing comin’. They’re gonna be miserable together, and he’s gonna wish he never broke up with you. But by the time he realizes that, you’ll have found somebody better. Somebody smarter and nicer and loyaler.”

“Loyaler?” Isabel echoed. “More loyal.”

“See, you’re correcting my grammar. I knew you were still in there somewhere.”

“Yeah, somewhere,” she agreed halfheartedly. She felt . . . empty, though. “Tess, I know you think I’m gonna move on, but . . . what if I can’t?” She forced herself to sit up, voicing some of her deepest concerns. “I really loved him. I would’ve given up everything to be with him. I even considered giving up Princeton.” When she said it out loud like this, it really sounded . . . not healthy.

“Why?” Tess asked. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but . . . why did you love him so much?”

She exhaled shakily, finding it hard to explain. Sometimes, the heart just felt something, and there was no chance or desire to question it. “I always loved his potential,” she confessed. “I thought that he could really . . . you know, be someone.”

“Oh, he is someone,” Tess informed her. “He’s a jackass.”

“I know, but . . .” Again, she couldn’t find the words for it. How was she supposed to explain that, even now, a mere twenty-seven hours and sixteen minutes since he’d dumped her, she still felt like he had potential? Like the fact that he’d broken up with her prior to sleeping with Maria actually meant he was growing somehow. Like he still might end up being someone great, and she wouldn’t get to experience it with him. She’d miss out. Be left behind. Alone.

“This is for the best,” Tess reiterated. “You’re better off without him, remember?”

“I don’t know.” She’d gotten so used to who she was with Michael that she was having a hard time remembering who she was without him. Losing Michael . . . it was like losing a part of herself. And now she had no idea if even she still had the potential to be someone without him. To be anyone at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael got plenty of women, but he didn’t . . . get women. He didn’t understand them. Take Maria, for example. She’d spent the vast majority of the night making sure they only spent time together with Dylan or Tina, and when it finally was just the two of them, upstairs in his bedroom, she’d barely even look at him. She just started assembling that stupid wall of pillows, all her attention focused on that.

He stood back and watched her for a minute, trying to figure it out, hoping she’d stop. But when she didn’t, he flat-out asked, “What’re you doing?” It just didn’t make sense to him.

She turned around, sighing his name. “Michael . . .”

“Maria.” He didn’t understand. Why was she putting something in between them now that there no longer was something in between them?

She looked down at her feet, mumbling, “Earlier today, when you said you broke up with Isabel . . .”

“Yeah, I broke up with her.” Finally, now they could get somewhere.

“And did you tell her . . .” Again, she trailed off questioningly.

“Everything,” he filled in.

“Everything?”

“Well . . . mostly everything.” He wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t going to tell her all the lurid details. “She knows about us.”

Maria took in a shuddering breath. “Is she okay?”

He made a face, not sure if Maria really cared whether or not Isabel was okay. It wasn’t like they were friends or anything.

“I mean, it’s not like I’m proud of this, you know,” she said. “I never meant to--”

“She’ll be fine,” he cut in, hoping that was true. “She’s pretty upset right now.”

“Well, yeah.” She wrapped her arms around herself, looking . . . nervous and unsure. “So what happens now?”

Well . . . he had a few ideas in mind, but he didn’t want to overplay his cards. “You tell me,” he urged, sauntering towards her. When he got close enough, he leaned in to kiss her, but she pressed one hand against his chest, holding him back.

“Wait,” she cautioned.

Why? he thought. Hadn’t they waited long enough?

“Just because you broke up with Isabel . . . that doesn’t mean it’s so simple.”

“It doesn’t?” Then they were on two totally different pages. “I broke up with her so I could be with you. Sounds pretty simple to me.”

“But what if you change your mind?” she fretted. “What if you realize you made a huge mistake?”

“I didn’t.”

“What if your feelings change? What if this isn’t what you really want, or what’s best for you?”

He frowned, amazed that she could talk herself out of it like this. He didn’t have that kind of self-restraint. “What’re you talking about Maria?”

“I just . . .” She backed up a bit, her legs hitting the edge of the bed. The bed that contained the wall of pillows that would inevitably lie between them that night. “I think we should wait.”

Wait? His mind could barely even register the meaning of the word.

“I don’t think we should rush things.”

He exhaled heavily, having a hard time believing that he was even hearing any of this. This wasn’t how he had pictured things happening, and he wasn’t exactly thrilled by it. He wanted to rush. He wanted to rush forward and not waste another minute. “You’re serious?” he asked.

There were determined tears in her eyes as she squeaked out, “Yes.”

No, he thought, shaking his head in frustration. He didn’t care if it was a jerk move to start something up with her right after ending things with Isabel. That was exactly what he wanted to do.








TBC . . .

-April
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LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
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April
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Part 45

Post by April »

Carolyn: Yes, some much needed progress has been made now that Michael has called it off with Isabel. Thanks for reading!

Sara:
Good for Maria!! Make Michael wait and work for it. He needs to know these relatio ships are not just about what he wants and his feelings.
He's so impulsive. He wants what he wants right now. It's hard for him to even contemplate waiting.
And I'd say its time for Alex to reappear and help Isabel!!!!!
Ah, that might be the best thing that could happen to her.

Eva:
Once again it's proved that teen boys don't think the same way as teen girls.
Definitely not! :D


Thanks for the feedback!

This is a major update today.









Part 45








It was hard not to notice that Isabel wasn’t her usual self. When Alex met up with her at Study Buddies, he could tell instantly that something was wrong. She usually showed up with a smile on her face and a bounce in her step—this program was, after all, her pride and joy as the student body president. But today, she was withdrawn, sullen, and she looked exhausted.

“You’re gonna be working with him today,” she said, pointing out a small, pimply kid sitting at the most isolated table in the library, his iPod blaring loud enough for everyone else to hear, a black hood over his head. “His name’s Danny. He’s a freshman. He needs a lot of help in . . . well, everything. But start with math.”

“Okay,” Alex said. “Where’s Michael?”

“Hmm.” Isabel pressed her lips together tightly. “I don’t think Michael’s gonna be coming anymore. He’s probably too busy screwing his new girlfriend.”

Alex felt his eyebrows shoot upward on his face. “Oh.” Well . . . that explained a lot.

“Yeah, he broke up with me,” she divulged. “After having what I can best describe as an emotional affair for, like, two months. At least.”

No wonder she didn’t look like her normal self then. She wasn’t. “That . . . sucks,” he sympathized. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t like seeing her this way, but . . . part of him didn’t mind. At least she wasn’t with Michael anymore. That had been a mismatch right from the start. Anyone could’ve seen it.

“Well, according to everyone who isn’t me, I’m better off,” she mumbled hoarsely.

“You probably are,” he agreed. “I mean, I know it’s hard, but . . . he just wasn’t the one for you.”

She grunted sadly, asking, “Then who is?”

Who knows, he thought. Could be anyone. “I’m here for you if you need me,” he volunteered, wanting to make sure she knew that. He had a lot of respect for this girl, something Michael clearly hadn’t had, and he wasn’t about to let her go through this alone. He could relate, on some level, because of the way things had ended with Liz. Sure, it wasn’t the same situation, but still . . . he understood.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling a little. But even with that smile, she still didn’t look like Isabel, and that concerned him. He cared about her and wanted her to be okay. She would be, but the faster she realized that Michael was just a loser, the better off she would be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Smelling something unusual that evening, Michael trotted downstairs and into the kitchen, finding his mom standing before the stove, stirring something in a large red pot. “What’re you makin’?” he asked.

“Oh, I just tossed a whole bunch of stuff into this pot,” she replied.

He peered over her shoulder and took a whiff, skeptical as to whether or not it would turn out any good. “Interesting.”

“Well, you don’t have to eat any if you don’t want to.”

“I might try it.” He opened up the refrigerator, noting how his dad’s booze was still there; it was just in the back now, behind the milk and the juice and everything else. As if Tina wouldn’t be able to see it there.

Shaking his head, he took out the milk carton, opened it, and drank straight from it, much to his mother’s disdain.

“Speaking of interesting . . .” she began, giving him a look. “I ran into Isabel’s mom at the grocery store today.”

“Oh, yeah?” He wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand, downed the rest of the milk, and tossed the now empty carton into the trash.

“Yeah. We had quite the interesting conversation.”

Oh, he could only imagine. But he decided to play dumb. “About what?”

“About you and Isabel.” She turned down the stove, tapped the stirring spoon against the side of the pot, and set it aside. Placing one hand on her hip, she turned to face him, prompting, “Something you’d like to tell me?”

Not really, he thought. He loved his mom, but he didn’t talk about his love life with her. “Okay, we broke up,” he admitted. “So?”

So?” she echoed incredulously. “Why—why would you do that? She’s such a great girl.”

“She is a great girl,” he agreed. “It just wasn’t workin’ out.”

“Well, why not? It seemed like things were fine.”

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to formulate some escape, some excuse to get the hell out of that kitchen. Maybe he’d just run upstairs and tell her he didn’t want to talk about it. Because he really didn’t.

“And she was so good for you,” his mom continued on. “You’ve changed a lot these past few months, ever since you got back together with her.”

He actually laughed at that. “You think Isabel changed me?” She saw Maria and him together all the time. Sure, she had plenty of other stuff to deal with, but how could she not notice that Maria was really the one responsible for the marginal improvements she was seeing?

“I think Isabel was a once-in-a-lifetime girl,” his mom explained, “and I think you made a mistake.”

“Well, I didn’t,” he proclaimed confidently. It didn’t matter what she or anyone else thought. He knew he’d made the right decision. For once. It might have taken him a little longer to make it than it should have, but he’d gotten there.

“Well, try telling Isabel that. Diane said she’s devastated.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“And Diane’s pretty upset, too. She made it sound like . . .” His mom trailed off, shaking her head. “Never mind.”

“Like what?” he urged, sensing where this was all going.

“Nothing.”

“Like I cheated on her?”

She sighed heavily, just looking at him.

“I did,” he confessed.

Throwing her hands down at her sides, she looked . . . angry and frustrated and disappointed all at once. “Again? How could you do that to her, Michael?”

“It just happened.”

“With who?”

“Who do you think?” he muttered, unwilling to continue this conversation as he walked past her and headed back upstairs. There. Now she knew.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria brushed her hands off as she returned from the dusty philosophy section of the library, a section nobody ever went to anymore. “Everything’s reorganized,” she proclaimed to Krista. “I think I’m gonna head out to get some lunch now. You want me to get you something?”

“No, thank you,” Krista replied, her eyes practically glued to her computer screen. She’d spent the majority of the morning looking at new books to order.

Maria turned to leave, halfway to the door when Krista called, “Maria? Can I ask you something?”

Maria stopped and looked at the other woman expectantly. “Sure.” Was she going to want her to pick up a turkey sub or a roast beef sub? Whenever she said she didn’t want any lunch, she ended up changing her mind and asking Maria to pick up something.

But that wasn’t what she asked. Instead, it was . . . “Are you sleeping with my son?”

Maria felt her eyes nearly bulge out of her head. She was so bowled over by the question that she couldn’t even respond.

“I’m sorry,” Krista apologized, “I know that sounds very blunt and intrusive, but . . . you’re living in my house, so I need to know.”

“Um . . .” What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t lie to this woman, not after she’d done so much for her. “Not really.”

“Not really?” Krista echoed, puzzled.

“Well, I mean, we sleep in the same bed, but . . .”

“Well, I figured as much, but . . .” Krista swallowed hard, standing up. “See, the thing is, I found out Michael and Isabel broke up, and Isabel’s mom insinuated that he cheated, and he insinuated that he cheated with you.”

“No, um . . .” Her mouth suddenly felt very, very dry, and she couldn’t find the words she wanted to say. “Well, I mean . . . we’re not having sex or anything, but, um . . . we’ve kissed a few times.”

Krista just nodded, looking as if she’d expected more than that. “Okay,” she said calmly. “That’s . . . not completely unexpected. I just . . . I guess I’m just wondering if you two plan on getting involved now.”

“I don’t know,” Maria told her honestly.

“Do you two have feelings for each other?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Pretty strong feelings, actually.”

“Then you need to be careful,” Krista cautioned.

“Oh, don’t worry, ever since I had Dylan, I’ve been on birth control.”

“Not just careful with that, Maria.” Krista walked towards her, getting close enough so that she could reach down and squeeze her hands. “My son has many good qualities, but he can be very impulsive and so charismatic. And that’s a dangerous combination. Sometimes when girls get around him, they can’t think straight.”

Maria just nodded, wondering if she was one of those girls.

“He’s grown up a lot lately, but he’s still very immature. I don’t know if he’s ready to give you everything you need.”

Translation, Maria thought, he’s not ready to be a father. “I don’t even know if we’re gonna . . .”

“But if you do,” Krista jumped in, “please just remember that I have a very impressionable eleven year-old daughter who sleeps just down the hallway from you. And my house isn’t some mating den, so I don’t want people thinking of it that way. It’s bad enough half this town already thinks Michael has a son.”

“They do?” Maria asked.

“Yes. But it’s . . . it’s fine if you have feelings and he has feelings, but just . . .” Krista lifted both her hands, pressing them together as if she were praying. “Please, please, just make sure you keep your eyes open and you’re both thinking about what you’re doing. Please.”

Again, Maria kept nodding, still stunned by the fact that Krista had put her on the spot like this. She felt like she hadn’t done or said enough to adequately explain just how deep her feelings for Michael went, for Krista to be able to understand that it wasn’t just lust, but rather love. On the other hand, though, she understood how Krista felt about the whole thing perfectly clearly.

That night, she sat with Michael out on the porch, relaying the entire awkward conversation to him. He seemed absolutely befuddled by it, but after his initial reaction that his personal life was none of his mom’s business, he started to question what she’d been saying.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “Why would she say all that?”

Maria grunted. “Isn’t it obvious? She thinks you made a mistake breaking up with Isabel. She doesn’t want us to be together.”

“That’s not true,” he insisted. “She gets along so well with you.”

“But I’m not Isabel. I’m not Princeton-bound. I’m not the valedictorian.”

“So?”

“So she thinks you’re better off with her. And she’s, right, Michael. She’s totally right.” She stared up at the night sky, holding back tears. She hated that the choices she’d made in life would always affect her, and even the nicest people she knew would judge her for it. Who could blame Krista, though? Really, this was her son’s future they were talking about. Kind of a big deal.

Surprising her, Michael leaned over and touched her cheek, and kissed her, just once, making her heart bounce. He pulled away then, looking her right in the eye, and proclaimed, “We’re right.”

Her breath caught. Oh, he sounded so confident, so sure, and she wanted to be sure with him. She wanted to trust that he was right, to believe in what he was saying. It was so tempting. But this was Michael’s role in their relationship, to be the one who just went for it because he felt it. As much as she wanted that to be her role, too, it couldn’t be. She’d promised to keep her eyes open; she’d promised to think.

She thought it was a good idea to get up and head inside, so that was exactly what she did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael was in a bad mood at school the next day. First of all, there was the fact that he was at school, one of his least favorite places in the world, which was enough to put anyone in a bad mood. And then there was the fact that he was still pissed about what his mom had said to Maria. He loved his mom no matter what, but he hated that she had cautioned Maria against jumping into a relationship with him. As if she wasn’t already cautious enough. His mom had kept giving them both these curious looks at the breakfast table that morning, like she was wondering if they’d hooked up that night. But of course they hadn’t, because everyone was getting in Maria’s head, convincing her that it was for the best to take things slow. It was really fucking hard for him to start something up with her when other people were telling her to stop.

When he got to his locker, he found a picture taped to it, some cell phone photo someone had snapped of him and Maria arriving at the party in Frazier Woods the other night. They weren’t even doing anything, not holding hands or even looking at each other. But somebody had crossed out Maria’s face and written WHORE at the top. Wasn’t hard to figure out who when he saw a heart with Your Cheerleaders scrawled at the bottom.

He tore the photo down, jerked open his locker, and threw his stuff inside. Storming down the hall, it didn’t take him long to find the cheerleading captain herself. He balled up the photo and threw it at her. “Real nice, Tess,” he grumbled.

“Thanks,” she chirped, “I thought so.”

He forced himself to walk on by. Had she been anyone else, he would have stopped and chewed her out, right there in front of all her friends. But he held back, only because she was his best friend’s girlfriend. Soon enough, though, if she kept up these little antics, even her status as Kyle’s girl wouldn’t be enough to hold him back. He’d let her have it. He didn’t give a shit. Hell, they were only friends by association anyway.

When he got out to the commons, things were still bad. Because there was Isabel, sitting with fucking Ryan of all people. He was saying something to her, and she was actually smiling as if she were enjoying the conversation.

Yeah, something was wrong with that picture. The Isabel Evans he knew wouldn’t give Ryan Adderman the time of the day. She clearly was a little bit needy right now, rebounding perhaps, and that concerned him.

Kyle practically snuck up behind him, slugging him in the shoulder playfully. “Jealous?” he asked.

“No.” He couldn’t look away from Isabel and Ryan, but it wasn’t for that reason. “I just don’t like that he’s talkin’ to her. She’s vulnerable right now, you know? I don’t want him takin’ advantage of her.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Kyle promised. “She’ll be alright.”

“I guess.” He looked away when Ryan said something that made Isabel laugh. “Hey,” he said to Kyle, “you’ll never guess what your girlfriend did.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kyle wasn’t used to feeling angry at Tess. He felt a lot of things towards her, almost all of them positive. But anger was new. He didn’t hold back when she came over that night, though. She had to know that what she was doing was wrong, that she needed to back off. Sure, she was a girl in her junior year of high school, but he was a guy in his senior year, and he knew well enough not to lash out the way she was.

“I don’t get why you’re freaking out,” she said. “It was a joke.”

“But not a very funny one.”

“No, it’s funny ‘cause it’s true.”

He rolled his eyes, feeling . . . annoyed now. Also a new feeling. “Tess, I know you’re just tryin’ to make her look bad, but you’re makin’ yourself look worse. You’re stooping really low and acting kind of classless.”

“Classless?” she echoed, huffing. “Don’t you think it’s kind of classless to steal another girl’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah, but--”

“Isabel is my best friend. But if she hates Michael too hard, she’ll look like the bitter ex. So I’m doing it for her. It’s what friends do.”

“Well, stop,” he told her. “I’m tired of it. I love you—you know that—but I don’t love how you’re acting right now.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Am I ruining your perfect reputation?”

“No, I just like to hold myself and the people I care about to higher standards,” he explained. “And just like Isabel’s your best friend, Michael’s my best friend, and nothing’s gonna change that. I might not agree with everything he does, but . . . if you keep callin’ Maria a whore and slut and makin’ me feel bad for hangin’ out with a guy I’ve known since I was a kid . . .” he shrugged, figuring brutal honesty was the best. “Then you’re not much better.”

She looked . . . genuinely startled to hear that. So startled that she couldn’t even look at him. Embarrassed, maybe? It was hard to tell. He just hoped he’d talked some sense into her. If she would listen to anyone, it would be him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On the one hand, when Michael got home that night, he felt relieved. Because he’d just gotten off the phone with Kyle, who had told him that he thought he’d gotten through to Tess and that she’d lighten up from here on out. But on the other hand, he felt . . . whatever the opposite of relieved was. Because as he got out of the car and cut through the lawn to the front door, Isabel came out. Isabel. Of all people. And his dad was with her.

“Thanks for lettin’ me know,” he was saying.

“Yeah,” she said, looking a bit dazed when she saw him standing there. But then she snapped herself out of it and spoke to his dad again. “I figured you’d want to.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. And then, as she slinked down from the porch and meandered towards her car, he glared at Michael, shaking his head in utter . . . contempt, it looked like. So much contempt that he shut the door in Michael’s face.

Forgetting about his dad, Michael scampered back to the driveway after Isabel. “Hey,” he called. “What’d you tell him?”

She shrugged innocently, reaching into her purse for her keys. “The truth. That you cheated on me and broke up with me for the second time. That you never intended to stay with me, that you just used me until you were through with me. He really wasn’t happy to hear any of that.”

The guy wasn’t happy. Period. “Real slick, Isabel,” Michael said. “He’s probably gonna go get hammered now.”

“Because he’s so pissed at you,” she added. “I kinda love that.” She opened the door to her car, but he reached out and slammed it shut.

“You don’t even know what’s goin’ on with him right now,” he growled.

“No. But now he knows what’s going on with you and Maria. I wonder if he’ll still be okay with her living in your house.”

Michael slowly withdrew his hand from the door and took a few steps back. He had to admit, he hadn’t even thought about that. He’d been so wrapped up in getting Maria to give in to temptation with him that he hadn’t even given much thought to the consequences. His dad, on the rare occasions that he did exercise his authority, usually did so pretty swiftly. “Is that why you told him?” he questioned. “You wanna split us up?”

She looked frustrated that he didn’t understand, that he didn’t just get it. It was that same look of frustration he’d seen thousands of times before from her. “I told him because I want him to be angry at you. I want him to tell you you’re making the biggest mistake of your life.”

“It’s not gonna change anything,” he informed her. They wouldn’t be getting back together this time.

“I know, but I want people to be telling you that,” she desperately explained. “It’ll make me feel better. I just wanna feel a little bit better for a little while.”

He stared at her, a mixture of guilt and rage coursing through him. He knew he’d done her wrong, but still, as far as he was concerned, she’d had no right to come over here. His family was his business. “You shouldn’t have told him,” he muttered, turning his back to her.

“He would’ve found out sooner or later,” she called after him.

“I was hopin’ for later, Is.” He pushed open the door and slipped inside, wincing as he heard his dad rummaging around in the kitchen. He’d been trying to be subtle about it ever since he’d gotten home from the hospital, but apparently it was just back to normal now, drinking often and openly and not giving a damn what anyone thought about it.

Michael headed into the kitchen, standing back and watching his dad for a few seconds. He had several different bottles out, each one a different kind of hard liquor, and he was mixing them all together in a glass. “Want some?” he offered.

“No.” What he wanted to do was stomp over to the counter and smash all of those bottles one by one.

“It’s okay. I got a glass, so it’s sophisticated.”

“Yeah, real classy.” Michael stared at him in pity, wondering how it had gotten this bad. Had his dad ever just been a guy who liked to get drunk at parties? Or had it always been something more? “Come on, Dad.”

“What?” his dad barked.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop drinking. You wanna end up in the hospital again? You wanna end up dead?”

His dad grunted and shook his head, scoffing, “Are you really gonna lecture me?

“Someone has to.” He didn’t see anyone else lining up for the job. His mom, bless her heart . . . she just wouldn’t open her eyes to how bad it was. She wanted to believe it’d all be okay, and she couldn’t accept the fact that it wasn’t going to be if they let this keep happening.

His dad took one big drink, then said, “Hmm,” and stared at the liquid in his glass, sloshing it around from side to side. Then, as if he were suddenly and completely fed up, he slammed it down on the counter so hard it spilled over the sides. “You are me,” he ground out. “Don’t you get it? You’re makin’ the same damn mistakes! This is gonna be you someday!”

“Oh, really?” Michael challenged.

“Yeah!”

“All because I broke up with Isabel?”

“Maybe!”

Michael glanced up, hoping his mom and Tina weren’t overhearing this. Put the headphones on and listen to your music, Teenie. I can handle this.

“That girl was your ticket to a better life!” his dad blared. “She was gonna take you places. But now . . . you might as well be stuck here.”

Michael couldn’t help but laugh, because, in a weird, sad, fucked up way, it was hilarious. It was hilarious that his dad thought he knew so much when, half the time, he was too drunk to form a coherent thought. “You don’t get it.”

“No, you don’t get it. You think you got it all figured out; you think you know what you want. You think you’re gonna be happy with Maria, don’t ya? You think you love her.”

“I do love her,” he insisted.

“For now. But once the thrill of the sex wears off and she pops out another kid or two, it won’t be the same. It’ll all just be a routine, and everything you’re feeling right now . . . you’ll feel less of it. Until you feel nothing at all.” He glared—literally glared—at his half-empty glass, with that same look of contempt he’d shot at Michael. “Like me,” he muttered, bringing it back to his mouth.

Michael watched him, wondering if he truly did believe what he was saying, or if he’d just gotten so used to being miserable that he never even questioned it. “You really think you feel nothing?”

His dad shrugged, almost carelessly. “Why do you think I tried to kill myself?”

And there, just like that . . . there it was. The truth, a confession, for the first time. It didn’t come as a huge shock to Michael, but still . . . hearing him say it out loud, hearing him admit it even to himself . . .

He wasn’t ready for this.

Figuring he’d said all he could, tried his best, he threw his hands up in the air and walked back out that front door. If his dad wanted to drink himself to death, then no one could stop him. He could only stop himself. But for now, because of the fact that Michael didn’t want to end up like him, he had to get out of there. And there wasn’t a question in his mind where he was headed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria DeLuca.

Had she really only been a part of his life for six months? She was such a huge part of it now that he’d forgotten what it felt like to not know her. To not love her.

He really loved that girl.

Michael stood outside the doors of the Crashdown that evening, an obvious Closed sign facing him, and he watched as she cleaned up on her own. Scrubbing off counters, sweeping up floors. She shouldn’t have had to do that to get by; she deserved more. She deserved a happy, easy life, and he so badly wanted to be the one to give that to her. But he didn’t know how. He didn’t know . . .

He just didn’t know. He didn’t know much of anything. Didn’t know what he was doing with her, what was happening. Because it had never happened before. Not to him. He’d never allowed himself to fall so hard for someone else. But this wasn’t the kind of thing he could stop. He didn’t want to. No, he just wanted to dive right in and see where it took him, see where they ended up.

It took her a few minutes to notice him standing out there. Either she hadn’t noticed or she’d just been pretending not to. But eventually, she leaned the broom she’d been using against the counter and came to the door, opening it just slightly. “What’re you doing?” she asked quietly.

Probably looking like a creeper, he thought, answering, “Lurking,” instead. “Brooding, maybe.”

“You brood?”

“On occasion.” He managed half a smile, staring at her intently, knowing she wouldn’t make him brood out there for long.

Almost as if she were trying to look hesitant, she slowly opened the door wider and let him come in. He probably wasn’t supposed to, what with it being after hours and all, so he mumbled, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She shut the door, locking it into place again, and he was astounded how quiet it was in there. When there were no other customers or other workers, it felt like a different place altogether. Very still. Like the slightest noise would cause all the glasses to shatter.

He remembered seeing her there for the first time, getting all mad that she hadn’t given him a beer. Not tipping her, barely even talking to her. And now that had evolved into . . . this. She’d gone from being some girl he didn’t even know to being one of the only people he truly cared about.

“Are you okay?” she asked carefully. “You look upset.”

“I am.” No need to lie about it when, apparently, it was obvious.

“Why?” she questioned.

He thought about Tess and her stupid locker prank, Isabel and her stupid talk with his dad, and his dad’s stupid problems and even stupider solutions. And all those thoughts made him furious. “I just had a bad day,” he muttered, figuring he wouldn’t elaborate if he didn’t have to. Really, he didn’t feel like talking.

“I’m sure you’re not the only one,” she said, looking down at her feet. She looked almost . . . ashamed. No, not almost. She was. And then she inquired, “How’s Isabel?”

He frowned, wondering how it was possible that she could feel worse about what they’d done than he did. She felt bad enough to ask. It made sense, though, in a way, that she would. She was a better person than he was. She cared about that kind of thing.

“Is she okay?” she kept on.

“No. I don’t know.” He didn’t mean to sound so flippant, but . . . whatever. It was what it was. “Honestly, I’m not sure I care right now.”

“Michael . . .” She gave him a look.

“No, I don’t care if that makes me a jerk to say that. She can be pissed at me all she wants. That doesn’t give her the right to talk shit about me to my dad. She should know he’s hangin’ on by a thread.”

“Really?” she countered. “How is she supposed to know that? You never told her.”

“She just . . .” He trailed off, groaning in frustration. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to waste time talking. It wasn’t helping him feel any better. He knew what would make him feel better, and it didn’t involve using his mouth for words.

“After what we did to her . . . she has every right to lash out at us,” Maria insisted.

God, she was being so much more logical than he was, and he hated it. He didn’t want to be logical about anything. He just wanted to feel what he was feeling and hope the good feelings would outnumber the bad.

“Fine,” he conceded. “We messed up. We were wrong. We’re the bad guys.”

He saw a look of alarm flash through her eyes, and he immediately regretted saying that.

“No, I’m . . .” He took a few steps towards her, correcting, “I’m the bad guy. I am.”

“You’re not a bad guy,” she whispered.

“Really? ‘cause Isabel hates me. My own dad hates me.”

“I don’t hate you,” she reminded him.

“No, you love me.” He got even closer to her, wondering just how close she’d let him get.

“I do,” she confessed.

He stood before her, close enough to put his hands on her hips. “So why won’t you sleep with me?”

“Because,” she mumbled. “It’s not the right time.”

“It might never be the right time.” He rubbed her lower back with one hand, pushing gently to urge her in closer. But her body remained stiff and hesitant.

“Michael . . .”

Feeling frustrated, he took both his hands off her and stepped back a few paces, staring at her in disbelief. How much resistance did this girl have? How many times could she put on the brakes and keep things from happening before they ever got a chance to start? “I don’t get it, Maria,” he admitted. “I love you and you love me. What’s stopping us?”

We’re stopping us.”

“No, you’re stopping us,” he corrected vehemently, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

“God, Michael, you make it sound like that’s a bad thing!”

“It is!”

“If I don’t stop and think about what we’re doing, then who’s gonna, huh?”

“No one!” he roared. “And then you’d just give in, and we’d both be able to do what we wanna do. And it’d be amazing. You know it’d be amazing.”

“Yeah, amazingly reckless,” she argued.

“Who cares?”

“I care, Michael!” she shouted. “The last time I let myself get reckless with a guy, I got pregnant, and my life changed forever.”

“Is that what this is all about?” he prodded, narrowing his eyes at her. “You’re scared of getting pregnant again?”

“No, it’s . . . it’s just a big deal for me,” she stammered, looking worked up and flustered. “And maybe it is a little bit about that, and maybe it’s a little bit about how horrible we were to Isabel, and maybe it’s a lot about you and your future.”

“My future?” He made a face.

“Yes, believe it or not, Michael, you have a future; and I don’t know if I’m a part of it, or even if I should be.”

“What’re you talking about?” When he imagined the future, she was all he could see of it.

“Michael, you just assume everything’s gonna work out because we love each other. But I’ve been in love and had it not work out before, so you can’t blame me for being cautious.”

He shook his head, getting downright angry now. The fact that this conversation wasn’t going the way he wanted it to was a capper to an already bad day. “No, I wouldn’t blame you for being cautious,” he told her. “But you’re not bein’ cautious; you’re bein’ scared.”

“Scared?”

“Yeah.”

“Scared of what?”

“Scared of what you feel, or how strongly you feel it, or something. See, I think you’re scared, ‘cause you know you can’t hold out much longer.”

She huffed, “What, like I have no self-restraint?”

“Not enough.”

“More than you.”

Well, that much was obvious. “Yeah, more than me.” He took a few steps forward again, trying to get close enough to kiss her, because he had it in his head that if he was just able to do that, she’d stop talking and stop thinking and whatever was left of her restraint would vanish. But she leaned back, stopping him.

“What’re you doing?” she asked.

“What we both want to.” He leaned forward, trying once again to cover her mouth with his. But she placed one hand on his chest, pushing him back a bit.

“Michael.”

She kept saying his name, saying it with varying degrees of frustration, of course. It made him want her so bad.

“Trust me,” he said.

“No, trust me.” Her eyes lingered on his chest as her fingers scrunched up his t-shirt. “We have to wait.”

But there was a problem with waiting: If you waited too long, the opportunity would pass right on by. He wasn’t about to let that happen with her, with them. It meant too much to him to just stand back and do nothing. “Maria,” he said, managing a calmer, gentler tone as he asked, “What’re you waiting for?”

She kept playing with his shirt for a few seconds, then stopped and looked up at him. Just looked, without saying anything. But he could tell by that look in her eyes—eyes full of uncertainty and desire—that she had no answer to that question.

Whatever was left of her self-restraint vanished in an instant as she threw her arms around his neck, rose up on her toes, and surprised the hell out of him by crushing her mouth to his, kissing him hard, forcefully, letting him know she wanted it, wanted him, more than anything. She wanted him so much that she couldn’t talk herself out of it anymore, couldn’t stop herself. And he sure as hell wasn’t about to stop her, so he just kissed her back, hands clawing at her, trying to get a hold of her as her entire body slid against his wantonly.

He grabbed hold of her ass, kneading and squeezing her flesh through the thick fabric of her uniform before slipping them underneath her skirt. He tried to pull her panties down but only got them right below her butt cheeks before his fingers got distracted caressing her warm, soft flesh.

Oh, it felt so good.

Apparently she thought so, too, because she tore her mouth away from his and moaned, loudly, throwing her head back. He seized the opportunity to suck hungrily on her neck as he kept touching her, sliding his fingers down her crack and in between her legs to probe her entrance.

“Oh!” she gasped, her entire body jolting as her hips jerked forward.

He left her wanting more and removed his hand, sliding both up her sides as he kissed his way back up to her mouth. He thrust his tongue into her mouth a few times, hoping to give her a few ideas, and pushed her back against the counter, getting her in the perfect position so he could rub his groin against her, letting her feel how hard he was already.

“You wanna?” he asked breathlessly.

She circled her hips against his, turning him on even more. “Yeah.”

“You want to?”

“Yes.”

Good. Because they were going to.

Hoisting her up onto the counter, he abandoned all decency. A covered tray of cookies went crashing to the ground, and they knocked over the broom that she’d been using before he’d come in. He quickly reached under her skirt to hook his fingers into her panties and drag them down and toss them to the floor. Then, grabbing one ankle in each hand, he spread her legs apart and stood in between them, feeling her heat radiating. His mouth sought out hers again while his hands latched on to the front of her uniform. Unbuttoning it would take too long, though, so he tore the front of it open instead, revealing more of her to him. More than he’d ever gotten to see. Her chest was heaving with each and every gasp of air she took in between kisses. He palmed her breasts for a few seconds, knowing he should take longer, be less greedy, but he wanted more.

It faintly registered in the back of his mind that they were doing this in the middle of a brightly-lit café, where anyone could look in and see them, but that didn’t stop him from lifting her off the counter and continuing on. She hooked her legs around his waist and held on tightly to his shoulders as he carried her over to the place where he was dying to do her. The place—the exact place—where they’d first met. The booth he always used to sit at, where, somehow, he’d gotten to know her and she’d gotten to know him, and they’d grown to care.

It was beyond caring now. It was love and lust and probably a whole lot more. Things Michael couldn’t even put words to, because, in that moment, words meant nothing to him.

“Michael . . .”

Unless, of course, it was that word, coming out of her mouth as he set her down on her own two feet again. Spinning her around, he pressed the bulge in his pants against her ass, eliciting a moan out of her beautiful mouth. She arched her back, reaching back to hold onto his hips just as he held onto hers.

It all felt good, but he wanted it to feel better, so he pushed against her back, getting her to bend over on top of the table. She didn’t seem to know what to think as she whimpered, “Michael?”

I’m here, he thought, lifting her skirt up, taking in the view. The jeans that already felt impossibly tight grew even tighter, and he had to unfasten them, pushing them down just enough so that he could get his straining cock out.

She lifted her head a bit and looked back, her eyes widening anxiously when she saw him for the first time. He didn’t want her to be nervous, though, so he reached out and tangled his hand in her hair, urging her to put her head down on the table again. She did, already panting for air as he then gripped her hips with both hands and positioned himself behind her. He rubbed his erection against her folds a few times, then plunged right in, all the way.

She cried out, her face a mixture of pleasure and pain as her body accommodated him, adjusting itself to an intruder. He wanted to give her time, let her get used to the feel of him, but the feel of her was just so damn good, he couldn’t hold back. Couldn’t wait. So he started thrusting almost right away, his mind spinning with the knowledge that, at long last, he was inside of her. No more waiting. This was what he’d waited for.

“Oh, fuck,” he swore, moving faster. She was bent over at the perfect angle for him to just pound into her, and the sound of his skin slapping against hers drove him crazy. So crazy that he just wanted to go harder. And faster.

“Ah!” she gasped, closing her eyes. Her whole body rocked as he drove into her at a frantic pace, desperately seeking release.

Come on, he thought, feeling the familiar build-up, the tightening sensation that made his whole brain fog up. He looked down, watching himself going in and out of her, coming out slicker each time, and that was all it took to send him over the edge. He groaned loudly and gripped her hips tightly as he came, pressing himself as far into her as he could, giving a few final thrusts with what little energy he had left.

It felt so good. It felt so fucking good.

It was all so consuming, though, so overwhelming, that it took him awhile to come back from it. He wasn’t sure how long, but all of a sudden, he slammed back to earth, and he remembered where they were. The Crashdown.

The Crashdown? He’d just had sex with Maria in the Crashdown?

Not even just sex. He’d . . . fucked her. Hard. Fast. The whole thing couldn’t have even taken more than five minutes.

He looked down at her, noticing that her eyes were open again, and tears were seeping out the corners.

Oh god, he thought. What did I just do?

He slid out of her gently, even though it was too late to be gentle. Too late to be careful, too. He hadn’t even worn a condom, which had probably helped contribute to how good it had felt.

How good it had felt for him, at least. She hadn’t even cum.

He looked outside, glad that things seemed to be relatively deserted that night. What they’d just done . . . he’d meant for it to be a private thing. Not . . . this.

He pulled her skirt back down for her, then took a few steps back and put himself back together, zipping his pants up again. It took her a little bit longer to get going again, as she just stayed there, looking completely stunned as she remained bent over the table.

Bent over? Shit. Not the most romantic of positions. Not the most romantic of anything. Nothing they’d just done had been how he’d planned for it to go. She would probably never believe him now, but really . . . he’d had plans.

It wasn’t supposed to have been like this.

She got up slowly, already looking like she was feeling the effects of how rough he’d been with her. And that made him feel ashamed. She deserved better than that. She deserved a guy who would take his time and concentrate on making her feel as incredible as she was making him feel. Tonight, he hadn’t been that guy, and despite his earlier prediction . . . this hadn’t been amazing.

He covered his mouth with one hand, actually feeling choked up as he tried to formulate an apology. But he had no idea what to say. How was he supposed to apologize for something like that? Especially since part of him was still so glad it had finally happened, even if it had happened the wrong way.

Maria, too, looked like she wanted to say something but couldn’t. So there they stood, a guy and a girl who loved each other and who had just had sex with each other for the first time, and now neither one of them could say anything.

It served him right, he supposed. He hadn’t wanted words.

I’m sorry, Maria, he thought, and because he didn’t know what else to do or say, he turned, and he left.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Had that really just happened?

Maria stood alone in the Crashdown after Michael left, trying to wrap her mind around it, wondering if maybe it had just been another vivid dream. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d dreamt about being with Michael. But this . . . this hadn’t been a dream. It had been real.

All too real, in a way. Not exactly the fantasy she’d imagined.

And now he was gone, and she didn’t know what to do. What was she supposed to do, just go home and lie down in bed with him like nothing had happened? Everything was different now. There was no going back.

She tried to button up her uniform again, but he’d torn most of the buttons up. So she clutched both sides of it together again, suddenly so self-conscious, worried that somebody was going to look in at her and know what she’d just done. It had to be obvious.

There was still work to be done there. That was what she’d been doing before he’d showed up, working. Cleaning. She had more to clean now. The counter again. Definitely that table.

Oh god, that table. How was she going to make it through an entire day of work tomorrow, looking over at that table, thinking about what had just happened there?

She’d never been fucked like that. Ever. Sure, hard and fast was nothing new, but . . . wild passion sure as hell was.

She staggered towards the counter, bending to pick up her panties and stuff them into her apron pocket on the way. Once she was behind the counter, she nearly collapsed on the floor, trying to keep her mind focused on the task at hand, on cleaning up the mess they’d made. She was going to have to think up an excuse for all those cookies they’d knocked over. Maybe . . . maybe she’d keep it simple and just say she’d knocked them over. On accident. By herself. Nothing more than that. They’d make more tomorrow and it’d be fine. Everything would be fine.

As she picked up the fragments of the cookies that had fallen, she noticed that she was shaking. Her hands, fingers . . . trembling. Not because she was cold, and not because she was nervous, but because she was worked up. Emotional. Being shaken on the inside was causing her to shake on the outside, and the more she tried to control it, the worse it got.

All of a sudden, she was crying, and she didn’t know why. Maybe because she’d been hoping for more. Maybe because she was freaked out that he’d just left right afterward. Maybe because it’d been a long time since she’d had sex with anyone, and it sort of felt like losing her virginity all over again.

Whatever the reason, she was crying, and she was shaking, and she was only halfway dressed and she still had a lot of work to do. And Michael wasn’t there to tell her it was going to be okay. So she wondered if it would be.








TBC . . .

-April
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LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
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April
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Part 46

Post by April »

Rod:
Kyle is a bit of a hypocrite here. He wants to stand by his best friend but gets on to Tess for doing the same thing.
But I think it's possible to stand by your best friend and support him/her without berating and belittling others in the process.
I know I mentioned in previous feedbacks how I liked 521 Max better than this Michael. The reason being 521 Max may have been an evil using bastard. ....but least he had the balls to admit what he was.
See, as an author . . . I loved writing 521 Max. He was so evil but so conflicted and so complex. It was a fascinating character exploration for me to get to embark on. But in real life, I'd much rather deal with Michael, who certainly is a jerk sometimes and definitely has some major maturing to do and surely needs to make some changes to himself if he wants to grow up to be different than his dad. Because 521 Max, any way you slice it, was a rapist, and one can make the argument that he either was or wasn't ever redeemed for that. (Is that even possible?) To me, Michael is a misguided adolescent who lacks a male role model in his life and is going to have to make mistakes in order to grow and learn and change. It sucks that other people get hurt in that process, but I think it's a process he has to go through.

But if you hate him until the end of the story and beyond, that's fine, too. ;)

Carolyn:
Maria had feelings of not being as good as Isabel.
Maria constantly compares herself to Isabel and feels like she comes up short . . .
Michael's parents felt Isabel was his ticket to a better life.......
. . . for reasons like this.

Sara:
You weren't kidding when you said this was a major update! Holy cow. I'm glad Michael called out his dad but then he took his anger out on Maria. Shame on him. And he left. What an asshole. Wow. I'm so embarrassed by his behavior. Whoa.
Michael's just such an intense person, and as exciting as that can be for the people in his life sometimes . .. at other times, that intensity takes over in not so good ways, like it did during his first time with Maria.

Eva:
I'm glad he's ashamed, that he knows he - excuse me the words - fucked up.
;) He fucked up the fucking. Not good.
And something in me understands why he did what he did, but the fact he ran away afterwards, made it all go down the drain. He left her alone, standing there, without offering her an excuse, without just being there for her. And I really don't see how he can make that up, like ever.
It probably wouldn't have been so bad if he'd just left like that, but he did. This is just . . . Michael. He messes up, and then because that freaks him out and he doesn't know how to handle it, he does something that messes things up even more.


Thank you for the feedback! On we go!









Part 46








The last thing Michael wanted to see when he got home was his dad, slumped over the kitchen table, asleep with his hand clutching a nearly empty glass of whiskey. But of course, that was exactly what he saw. There were a couple empty bottles and a few beer cans, so apparently he’d done a great job of drowning his sorrows that evening. His mouth was open and drool was coming out, and he was snoring.

Not even bothering to wake him up, Michael headed upstairs. His head was still exploding thinking about what he and Maria had just done; he didn’t have any time to think about his dad, or to worry.

He shut the door to his bedroom and started to pace back and forth, raking his hands through his hair, feeling freaked out and stressed out. What if he’d really screwed things up now with Maria? What if she was so disappointed in that lackluster performance that she didn’t give him a second chance?

Not that he deserved one. He’d pulled several jerk moves that night, none of them intentional, but still . . . First there was the fact that he’d argued with her and yelled at her. And then there was the sex itself, which might have been excusable if it hadn’t been their very first time together. And then why, after everything, had he just up and left like that? Now she was probably going to think that it hadn’t been good for him when, in reality, the only reason he was upset was because it hadn’t been good for her.

Jerk, he thought. You’re such a jerk. He tried not to be, but it came naturally.

He sat down on the bed, a bed that felt all too big without her in it, and prepared himself for a long night. Because as much as he hoped she would come home, he really doubted she would.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was strange that Maria actually felt relieved to go to her mom’s house that night. She’d dropped Dylan off there after her shift at the library, mostly because he’d mentioned that he missed his grandma. She knew Amy missed him, too, so it was fine with her if they spent a little time together. Plus, with her mom’s help, she didn’t have to feel guilty about relying on Krista to watch him so much.

But thank God he was over there that night, because that gave her a reason to be over there, a legitimate excuse to avoid the inevitable awkwardness with Michael.

“He just fell asleep,” her mom said quietly, leading her into the living room where Dylan lay on the couch with his thumb in his mouth, covered up by his favorite blanket.

“Just now?” Maria questioned.

“Well . . . I fed him a little too much sugar,” Amy admitted. “Took him a while to crash.”

“Didn’t you used to lecture me about that?”

“Yes, but . . . you can’t blame me. I hardly get to see him anymore, so when I do, I like to spoil him.”

Well, Maria thought, reaching down to stroke her son’s soft blonde hair, I guess he deserves to be spoiled. “Did he have fun?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think he did. We played a few games. He wanted me to play football with him, but . . .” She trailed off, laughing a little. “You know my athletic ability.”

“Non-existent.” Not unlike her own.

“Yeah. Did you have a nice night?”

Maria tensed. Nice? That wasn’t exactly the word she’d use for it. Eventful, sure. Dramatic, unbelievable. But not nice. “Just a typical work night,” she lied. Her mom would be one of the last people she would talk to about her love life. If not the very last.

“Well, feel free to bring him by here whenever you have these late nights,” her mom offered. “I’ve got some spare time on my hands now that . . . well, you know.”

Now that your hands aren’t all over Jim Valenti? Maria thought but didn’t dare say. No need to throw that into the conversation when they were actually managing to get along. “Actually,” she said, clearing her throat, “I was kinda wondering if I could stay here tonight, too.”

Her mom’s eyes lit up, and for a second, Maria let herself believe it was because she was happy to have her there. But she knew, most likely, that her mom was just happy that Dylan wouldn’t be leaving. Regardless, she agreed to it. “That’d be great.”

Maria nodded, a little bit dazed by the fact that this was now her safe haven. “Just for tonight,” she emphasized, not wanting to get her mom’s hopes up. This was in no way a permanent thing.

She let her mom put Dylan to bed and went up to the room that used to be hers. It didn’t look anything like it used to, mostly because her mom was using it as a storage room now. There were boxes scattered across the floor, most of them still sealed up. Probably unpacked merchandise for the store. She had to step over them and around them just to get to the bed, which also had some boxes on it.

Even though they weren’t heavy, just lifting those boxes off the bed and onto the floor felt like a tremendously difficult task for Maria. Once she was done, she didn’t even bother kicking off her shoes before lying down. Her head couldn’t hit the pillow fast enough.

It wasn’t like she’d be falling asleep anytime soon, though. After all, she wasn’t tired; she was just worn out. There was a definite difference.

Trying to roll over onto her side, she winced and lay flat again. Something was hurting, and when she reached down to lift her shirt and slide her pants down just slightly, she understood why. She had bruises from where Michael had been holding onto her hips. They were faint, but they were there.

She knew she couldn’t let him see those. He’d be horrified, thinking he’d hurt her. It hadn’t been painful, though; it had just been rough. Hence the reason why she felt so worn out. It was like all the energy had disappeared from her, and now her arms and legs felt like Jell-O.

Michael had made her feel that way. It was as thrilling as it was disappointing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Like a zombie, Michael staggered through the hallways of school the next day. If Kyle hadn’t come by to get him that morning, he probably wouldn’t have gone. Chances were, he wouldn’t make it through the day. He’d end up leaving at lunch and going to see Maria.

But what if she didn’t want to see him?

Okay, maybe he’d make it through the day after all. He’d see her later, hopefully, and by then, he would have figured out what he was going to say.

Sorry that was our first time.

I didn’t mean for us to do it like that. Not yet, at least.

Hey, wanna do it again?


The options were endless, but none of them seemed quite right.

He was able to space out through most of English, until Ms. Alvarez deliberately called on him when she finally noticed he wasn’t paying attention. “Michael?”

“Huh?” He noticed everyone else had their books open, and he didn’t even have his with him, so this probably wasn’t going to go well.

“What’s the answer?” Ms. Alvarez pressed.

Even if he had been paying attention, he probably wouldn’t have had any idea. “I don’t even know the question,” he admitted. That got a few snickers out of a few people, but only a glare from Ms. Alvarez. She picked up a marker and wrote his name on the whiteboard, under a space labeled Detention.

Michael rolled his eyes. Great. Because that was just what he wanted to do after school.

By the time lunch rolled around, he was still out of it. Kyle noticed it, and while the other guys were talking about the possibility of the girls basketball team going to State, Kyle leaned over and quietly asked him, “You alright, man?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Interesting night.”

Kyle frowned, staring at him intently as he put that through his interpretation filter. Then he just nodded slowly, and Michael figured he understood what he was talking about. Usually, it wasn’t necessary for him to explain things to Kyle. He could say one thing to him, and he’d just get it.

Luckily, Ms. Alvarez couldn’t stay after school that night, so they made arrangements to do detention in the morning instead. He figured waking up early and getting his ass there at 7:00 a.m. wouldn’t be a problem, because if Maria once again didn’t come home that night, he wasn’t going to be getting any sleep anyway.

So he got a ride home with Kyle after school, a ride in which Kyle point-blank asked him if he’d slept with Maria, and the only response he could muster was, “I don’t want to talk about it.” And so Kyle let it go.

But Michael couldn’t let it go. It was all he’d been able to think about all day, and now that he was home, he wasn’t thinking about it any less. He hadn’t ever been able to settle on something to say to Maria, so when he saw her, he was just going to have to wing it.

He called for her the moment he crossed the threshold. “Maria?” But no response. She either wasn’t home or was still doing her best to avoid him. At the moment, they both seemed equally possible.

Tina came trotting downstairs, looking eager to see him. “Is Maria with you?” she asked.

Or . . . maybe it wasn’t him she wanted to see. “No,” he replied, setting his empty backpack down by the door.

“I got a solo for the spring concert!” she chirped excitedly. “I was wondering if she’d help me with it.”

Well, that really depended on if she ever stepped foot in that house again, didn’t it? “Yeah, I bet she will,” he said. “You got a solo? Congrats.”

“Thanks.” She twirled from side to side, swinging her arms. “I beat Hannah Crown.”

“The popular girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome.”

She squealed with delight. Judging by the look on her face, beating Hannah was part of what made getting the solo so sweet. “So you really think Maria will help me?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Kicking off his shoes, he mumbled, “If she ever comes home again.”

Tina frowned, confused. “Are you guys in a fight?” she asked.

Oh, if only it were that simple. Fights he could handle. Sexual letdowns, on the other hand . . . that was something he was unaccustomed to. “No, we’re fine,” he assured her.

“Are you gonna go live in a trailer park?”

He gave her a look. Random. Where had that come from?

“Dad was upset last night, and he was saying you guys are gonna go live in a trailer park. And have lots of kids and stuff.” Her frown intensified. “Are you guys having a kid now?”

“No.” Leave it to his dad to say that, though. Knowing that was how he envisioned their future made Michael want to do everything in his power to prove him wrong.

“But Dad said--”

“Dad doesn’t know what the hell he’s talkin’ about. Don’t even listen to him.”

“Are you guys, like, together now?”

He sighed, knowing there was no way he could explain their situation to her. “I don’t know.”

“Is that why she didn’t come home last night?”

“Look, Tina . . .” He rubbed his forehead, feeling like he was being interrogated, even though she was just curious. He couldn’t explain his and Maria’s relationship to her. He didn’t even have it figured out himself. Besides, she was just a kid, and their relationship . . . well, it had definitely ventured into adult territory.

Suddenly, the door opened, bumping into him, and in came Maria. It caught him completely off guard to see her, because he’d fully been expecting her to make herself scarce for at least one more night. But there she was, and the minute their eyes locked, she didn’t look away.

“Maria!” Tina exclaimed. “Guess what! I got a solo in the spring concert!”

It took Maria a moment to tear her eyes away from Michael and respond, but when she did, it was with a genuine, “Really? That’s great.”

“Yeah, I beat Hannah Crown.”

“That’s . . . even better.” She smiled a little.

“Will you help me practice?” Tina asked. “I’m really nervous.”

“Sure,” Maria offered. “But, um . . . not tonight, okay? I think I’m gonna . . .” Casting a nervous glance back at Michael, she lowered her voice. “I’m gonna go stay with my mom tonight.”

Michael made a face. Her mom? The woman she couldn’t stand living with? Wow. Apparently the sex had been even worse than he’d thought.

“Tomorrow night then?” Tina asked hopefully.

“Maybe.”

Michael cleared his throat, giving her a sharp look, motioning subtly with his head for them to go outside. They needed to talk about what had happened, and he didn’t want Tina overhearing anything.

“I’ll see you later,” Maria told Tina as she slipped back out the door. Michael followed her, making sure it was shut securely. She stepped down off the porch, and he tried to stand beside her, but she kept moving further and further away. Finally, he just gave up and stood there on the front lawn while she stood closer to the driveway, wrapping her arms around herself, looking down at the ground as though she were . . . self-conscious or something.

“Maria . . .” He realized that he had nothing else prepared and started to panic. Oh god, what was he supposed to say? Why wasn’t he better at this sort of thing? He could score with girls until the cows came home, and then he could score with the cows; but when it came to this emotion stuff, he had no fucking idea what he was doing.

“Did you stay with your mom last night, too?” he asked. There, that was a nice, easy way to start it out, with a simple, direct question.

“Yeah,” she replied. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.”

“I was worried. But I figured . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. He sucked at this.

“I just thought you’d want space after--”

“Invading yours?” he mumbled.

“What?”

“Look, Maria . . .” There was no point in dancing around it. They’d screwed. Now they had to talk about it. “I don’t know how you felt about last night, but . . .”

“Confused,” she blurted. “Because we . . . and then you just left.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to stick around.”

She laughed a little, sounding a bit angry. “No. No, why would a girl possibly want a guy to stick around after sex? That’s just unheard of.”

“But it was . . .” God, this was ridiculous. He had butterflies in his stomach; he was so worried about saying the wrong thing. “It wasn’t . . . you know what I’m saying.”

“It wasn’t good?” she asked, tears in her eyes.

“No. I mean, you were good. You were . . . you were great.” Even if he never had the privilege of being with her like that again, he’d never forget how good it had felt to be joined with her, because he’d never felt anything like it before.

“I was?” she whimpered.

“Yeah. I . . . wasn’t.” Admitting that was like . . . eating glass, or doing something else extremely unordinary and unpleasant. “I was too . . . too fast, too rough. I should’ve . . .” He shook his head, dwelling on all the things he should have done. “That wasn’t how I planned for it to happen.”

“Planned?” she echoed. “You had plans?”

“Yeah. Believe it or not, I did.”

She gazed at him with a look of wistfulness in her eyes, asking, “What did you plan?”

“I just . . .” It was hard to explain. More than anything, it was all just a vision in his mind. “I love you, so I wanted to . . . make love to you.” There it was. He wasn’t used to saying things like that. “But I didn’t, so . . .”

He saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes, even though she tried to conceal it. It didn’t matter how much she tried to sugarcoat things. The fact that last night had been a letdown for her was obvious. “It’s okay,” she assured him.

“No, it’s not.”

“Michael . . .” She took a few steps forward, then, as if second guessing it, took a few more back. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s not like it was that bad.”

“No, it was,” he insisted. “You didn’t even . . .” He trailed off. It was unspoken, this knowledge that he’d gotten a lot more out of it than she had. As good as he was when it came to sex, even he couldn’t get a girl off every single time. But most of the time . . . most of the time he managed it.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she reiterated.

But he wanted to be. He wanted to mentally beat himself up for being such a horny jackass, because she wouldn’t do it for him.

“I’ve had way worse,” she admitted.

So had he, but still . . . “You could’ve had it so much better.” She deserved better, and he wanted to give it to her. This was, after all, the girl who made him not only want to be his best, but the best in general. Even if it wasn’t possible. “I can be better, Maria. I can . . . I can be better.”

Maybe he was just hopeful, but it looked like she believed him, or at least wanted to.

Unfortunately, he realized he wouldn’t get to say anything more to her when his mom’s car pulled into the driveway. He just hoped this was enough.

“Hi, you two,” his mom chirped as she got out of the car with a bag of groceries in one arm.

“Hey,” Maria returned.

“Did you come home last night?” Krista asked her.

“Uh, no, I just . . . I thought I’d stay with my mom for a change. Maybe tonight, too.”

Michael couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Another night alone. Lovely.

“Oh.” His mom frowned, looking concerned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Maria was already backing away. Why had she even stopped by in the first place? To get some clothes? Some of Dylan’s toys? Apparently it wasn’t important. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” she said, waving as she turned and scurried down the sidewalk.

Michael watched her go, wondering if he should go after her, at least offer to give her a ride. But he didn’t want to crowd her. Besides, the two of them alone in a car . . . that would probably lead to more sex, not of the making love variety. And that might make things worse.

“Is everything okay?” his mom asked him.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his eyes lingering on Maria as she got farther and farther away. “Everything’s fine.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Being back in her mom’s house was like being back in prison for Maria. So many rules. Rules about what to eat, about how much sleep to get, about how quiet to be when waking up in the morning. It was her strict regulation that had been the cause of Maria’s high school rebellion in the first place. Her mom would never change, though. And she would never ever admit to her own rebelliousness back in the day.

For now, though, this was what she had. Her mom’s house. Her mom’s company. Maybe tomorrow night she’d be able to go back home. To her real home, with Michael.

Her mom probed her with subtle questions all throughout dinner but waited until Dylan went into the living room to play to straight-out ask, “Do you think you’re gonna move back in here?”

Maria grunted, thinking, Fat chance. “No,” she replied.

“But you’ve been staying here,” Amy pointed out, getting up to start clearing off the table.

“For two nights,” Maria reminded her. “It’s temporary.”

“Well, what happened? I thought you hated it here.”

“Nothing happened.” Lie.

“Did Michael do something?”

Yeah, me. “No.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I just . . .” There was no way she was telling her mom the truth, so she thought up an excuse, one that was at least partially based in truth. “Michael’s dad’s been going through some stuff, and I think his family could use some alone time. I’m just trying to stay out of their hair for a couple days.”

Amy held one plate in each hand, looking disappointed when she asked, “And then you’re going back?”

Maria shifted, uncomfortable under her mom’s stern gaze. “I think so.”

Amy shook her head, clearly disappointed. Without a word, she turned and walked over to the sink. Maria remained seated at the table, listening to the clanging sounds as her mom put those dishes in the sink. Seconds later, she came back to the table, snarling, “Do you really think that’s such a good idea?”

“Look, Mom . . . I know you don’t like the thought of us together . . .”

Are you together?”

Oh, they totally were. They were so together, in fact, that she could hardly even stand being apart for another night. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you’d better figure it out,” her mom warned, “because I think it’s confusing the hell out of your son.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Twice now he’s asked me where his daddy is. And honestly, I have no idea whether he’s talking about Max or Michael.”

Maria tensed, leaning back as her mom reached in front of her to take her plate, too. Great. Now, not only did she feel confused, but she felt guilty for keeping Dylan away. Because she knew . . . he was talking about Michael. And missing him. Missing the only dad he’d ever known.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Another day. Another pointless day of pointless classes. Michael wasn’t sure he’d make it through. At this point, what was one more absence on his record? The school had basically stopped counting them since he was going to graduate soon anyway. Most of the teachers didn’t even notice if he was there or not anymore.

But there was one adult in that building who noticed, and she found him by his locker that morning. “Michael?” Topolsky called. “Can I see you in my office?”

He groaned inwardly. It was better than going to the principal’s office, that was for sure, but whenever he got called in there, he usually got lectured. Except . . . Topolsky didn’t really lecture. She listened a lot. Which made it not so bad sometimes.

A couple freshmen boys made noises as he walked past, the kind that suggested Topolsky needed to see him in her office for a booty call or something. “Shut up,” he snapped, surprising himself since, typically, he was all for immaturity.

When he got in there, she was looking at something on her computer, so he dropped his bag down at his feet to alert her of his presence. “What’d I do this time?” he grumbled.

She frowned, inquiring, “Why do you assume you’ve done something wrong?”

“Past experience.”

She laughed a little, motioning to the empty chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat.”

Oh, great. That meant this would take a while.

Figuring it was better than being in class, Michael shut the door and sat down, slouching in the chair. “So what’s this all about?” he prodded. If Isabel came strolling in here for some pathetic attempt at a therapy session, he was bailing.

“Well, Michael, I’ve been getting some calls and emails lately,” Topolsky revealed, angling her computer screen towards him so he could see one, “from some college admissions officials and coaching staff. They all sound pretty interested in you.”

Michael shifted uncomfortably. Another talk about his future? He would have actually preferred a relationship therapy session. “Yeah, I got accepted to a few places,” he admitted.

“So I sensed. New Mexico State, Alabama . . .” She beamed at him. “Michael, that’s wonderful.”

Was it? Because mostly, it was just stressful to him. “Yeah, I guess.”

“It seems a lot of people are impressed with your test scores and your athletic ability.”

Michael grunted. “So I guess I can tell all the underclassmen their grades don’t matter then, huh?”

No. You know, good grades could’ve made you eligible for scholarships.”

“And it doesn’t matter how many times you get arrested before your eighteenth birthday, ‘cause, really, as long as you can catch a football . . .”

“Michael.” Topolsky gave him a stern look. “It’s more than that. These schools see a lot of potential in you.”

Potential. How many times had he heard that word this year? And why did he keep hearing it if he’d never lived up to it? “That’s their fault,” he decided.

“What do you mean?”

“Givin’ someone a chance just based on what they might be able to do, who they might be able to be? Sounds like a really bad idea. Ask Isabel.”

“So does that mean you’re ruling out college? Because I’ve gotta tell you, Michael, everyone who’s contacted me sounds like they’re really interested. They wanna know what your plan is.”

“I don’t have a plan,” he blurted, and really, wasn’t that obvious? He wasn’t a planner. Never had been.

“Do you wanna go?” Topolsky asked. “To either one of these places. Have you thought about it?”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it.”

“And?”

He sighed heavily. These conversations always frustrated him, because he always felt that whatever answer he gave wasn’t . . . concrete enough, wasn’t absolutely, positively sure. “I guess I wanna go to Alabama,” he revealed. As much as he’d hate to leave Tina, and as much as he’d worry about her and his mom, it would be nice to put some distance between himself and his dad.

Topolsky’s eyes were practically sparkling with excitement. “I think that’d be a great fit for you.”

“But . . . I don’t wanna go alone.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be. Isn’t that where Kyle’s going?”

“Yeah, but . . . that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you . . .” Topolsky trailed off, nodding slowly, as if she understood. “The girl from the dance.”

“Maria.”

Topolsky just kept nodding, putting the pieces together. “You want her to go with you.”

“Yeah, but it’s complicated.” Unnecessarily complicated, in his mind, but Maria seemed bound and determined to resist him as long as she could. Even though, technically, she’d already given in.

“Do you think she’d consider going with you?” Topolsky asked.

“Yeah.” If he could make some forward progress, get their relationship up off the ground, then he knew they could go, just take off and start a life together. “I’d love it if she and Dylan and I could be together.”

“Dylan?” Topolsky echoed. “Who’s that?”

“That . . . is her son.”

Topolsky’s eyebrows shot upward for a moment. Apparently she hadn’t been expecting that.

“See?” he said. “I told you it was complicated.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was weird, but something about his sit-down with Topolsky lit a fire under Michael that day. He thought about it throughout every class. Ironically enough, the fact that he was so distracted with his personal life was the only thing that kept him there that day. He made absolutely no effort to focus on whatever dull crap his teachers were preaching, and they didn’t seem to expect that of him, so it all worked out fine.

But when the day was over, he wasted no time going to her. Because suddenly, it was starting to feel like there was no time to waste. They had to figure stuff out sooner or later, preferably sooner since he had colleges waiting to hear back from him.

Besides . . . he was tired of waiting.

He went to the library first, but she wasn’t there, so he checked the only other logical place, which was the Crashdown. Standing outside for a few minutes, he watched her zip around the café, too preoccupied to notice him. She looked distracted, like she was trying to be friendly with the customers and interact with them, but her mind was somewhere else. Like maybe it was remembering what they’d done on that table where a family of four was now sitting, enjoying their meals.

After a few minutes of watching, he started to feel like a creep again, but it was hard not to just stand there and admire the way her skirt showed off so much of her legs wherever she walked, or to be fascinated by the few strands of hair that had slipped out of her ponytail and were now framing her beautiful face. When he saw that other patrons in the restaurant seemed to be noticing, though, too, he hurriedly went in and walked right up to her territorially.

Unfortunately, she spun around and bumped right into him, and the plate that she was carrying fell to the floor, shattering.

“Sorry,” he apologized, immediately squatting down to help her pick it up.

“What do you want?” she asked outright, scooping small remnants of the plate onto the largest piece left.

Uh, wasn’t that obvious? He thought he’d been pretty clear that he wanted her. Only her. For a long time now.

Maybe not clear enough. After all, he hadn’t yet gotten to show her he loved her the way he told her he did.

“Come over tonight.” He’d meant for it to be an invitation, but it ended up sounding more like a demand.

“I’m gonna be working here late,” she told him. “And Dylan’s probably gonna be at my mom’s.”

Even better. His mom and dad were going to be at Tina’s parent/teacher conferences, so they would be alone. “Come over,” he begged again. “Please.”

She stopped worrying about the broken plate for a moment and just looked into his eyes, and even though she didn’t agree to it, he knew she’d be there. And that was a good thing. Because he had to show her something.








TBC . . .

-April
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LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
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April
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Part 47

Post by April »

Getting this out a day early this week!


Eva:
Michael is indeed a misguided adolescent who lacks a male role model in his life. He make a lot of mistakes but you can see him grow at the same time. And that development is nice to watch too.
I think he so desperately wants to be a better guy. He wants to live up to that potential everyone’s always talking about, but it’s really hard for him because he doesn’t have a father to help him. It’s as sad as it is admirable (arguably).

Sara:
Is he going to show her how not to be an asshole? I truly believe he cares for her but man, what an idiot. I will be curious how he gets out of this.
Michael’s got something up his sleeve her that—dare I say it?—is pretty damn romantic.

Rod:
Huh ....Michael acts like an ass and wonders why Maria doesn't want to stay with him.
I think you get frustrated with him because he doesn’t bother to wonder why he acted like an asshole in the first place.


THANK YOU FOR THE FEEDBACK! This is a shorter update today, but an important one nonetheless.

I’m excited to suggest one of my favorite “classic” songs today: “Unchained Melody” by Righteous Brothers, which you can listen to here or when you see :) if you’d like.









Part 47








It was early evening when Maria got off work that night. The sun was just beginning to set, and in a weird way, part of her was hoping to work longer. Because she was just so damn nervous. Michael’s ambiguous little visit and request for her to come over that evening had her stomach in knots, because she just sensed that something big was going to happen. Maybe it would be a big conversation, or even a big fight. Or maybe it would be something else.

She went up to the front door, reached out for the doorknob, but then pulled her hand away before she’d even grasped onto it. She took a few steps back and turned around, trying to collect herself before she went inside. But she wasn’t getting any less nervous, and that was frustrating her. She shook her hands anxiously, hating that she wasn’t more confident and in control.

On attempt number two, she didn’t fare much better. In fact, she hardly even reached for the door this time before nerves got the best of her and she stumbled back again. She just didn’t know what to expect when she opened that door, only what she was hoping for.

This is ridiculous, she scolded herself internally. Get a grip. She reached for the doorknob again, but as she did so this time, Michael opened it from the other side. He was smiling ever so slightly, like he’d been watching her multiple failed attempts at getting her nerves under control and thought it was cute or something.

It wasn’t cute, though. It was annoying. And it was especially annoying that she got even more nervous when she saw him. Here he was, this sexy, athletic guy who had previously dated a girl who was pretty much a supermodel and . . . how was a down-and-out teen mom supposed to hold his interest for long? What if her time was already up?

“Hey,” he greeted.

No fair. He even sounded calmer than she was. “Hey,” she echoed, barely able to hear her own voice. She cleared her throat, even though she didn’t know what else to say.

“Come on in,” he said, stepping aside, holding the door open for her.

This was so weird, walking into this house feeling like a guest. By all accounts, it was still her home, but even though it’d only been a few nights since she’d last slept there, it felt like longer.

“Thanks,” she mumbled. Oh my god. Had she really just thanked him for getting her into that house? Pathetic.

He shut the door and stuffed his hands in his pockets, showing his own signs of nerves for just a moment. But then it was gone, and his hands were out of his pockets, and he was fine again. Or at least faking it really well.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. “I mean . . .” He cringed, rubbing his forehead. “Sorry, wrong choice of words.”

Even though he hadn’t meant it as a joke, she couldn’t help but laugh a little. And laughing loosened her up just slightly.

“I know it’s been weird lately,” he acknowledged.

“Yeah,” she agreed. As exhilarating as it had been to be with Michael, they really hadn’t thought through the consequences. And right now, the consequence seemed to be . . . it was more than nerves, really. Uncertainty?

“Ever since we . . .” He trailed off slowly, leaving his sentence hanging.

“Michael?” She looked around, noticing how empty the house felt, and how quiet it sounded, and she couldn’t help but figure that they were alone. “What’s gonna happen?”

“You mean . . . tonight?” he asked.

She nodded.

He shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

A ragged breath scraped past her lungs at the mere thought. Images flashed through her mind, fantasies. She wasn’t sure if she should let herself want those things, but more than that, she wasn’t sure she could resist.

“See, I figured I’d make it up to you,” he told her, “for screwing up our first time together.”

“No, you didn’t . . .” God, she should have just faked an orgasm, like she’d always done with Max. Then maybe he wouldn’t be so hard on himself. “We’ve been through this.”

“I know.”

“It’s okay.”

He shook his head adamantly. “No. It wasn’t good enough. Not for you.”

“For me?” Just how high did he think her expectations were?

“You deserve better,” he insisted. “And I told you, I can be better. I just . . .” He stopped just as he started to sound frazzled. “I had ideas, okay? Things I was gonna do to make it special for you.”

“Michael . . .”

“And I wanna show you how it would’ve been,” he interjected adamantly, “if we hadn’t . . . if I hadn’t screwed it up.”

He was still being way too hard on himself about it, but she sensed she wasn’t going to get him to change his mind. Besides, she was intrigued. He’d obviously put a lot of thought into this, and it was important to him. So it was important to her, too. “I’m listening,” she prompted.

“Okay, well, first off . . . it would’ve been here,” he explained. “Not the Crashdown. ‘cause I wanted it to be . . . comfortable for you.”

She couldn’t deny . . . she would’ve liked that. “Where here?” she inquired curiously.

“Well, in my bedroom, of course.” He grinned flirtatiously. “Our bedroom.”

Our bedroom. She liked the sound of that.

“Come on.” He held out his hand, stepping up onto the stairs.

Her heart fluttered in her chest as it imagined what could happen. If what could happen was the same thing as what would have happened . . . she couldn’t tell whether she was nervous or not anymore. All she wanted to do was see where this led, so she set her hand in his and allowed him to lead her upstairs.

It seemed like they moved so slowly, like it took forever to get up there, maybe because she just couldn’t stop anticipating. Her heart was doing more than just fluttering now; it was pounding.

Michael flipped on the light switch for the overhead ceiling fan when they got to the bedroom, but apparently he wasn’t satisfied with that harsh lighting, because he turned it off almost right away. “Wait a minute,” he said, letting go of her hand so he could scurry over to the end table next to his bed. He turned on the lamp instead, which emanated a much softer light throughout the room. Not quite as dim as candlelight, but not as glaring as the overhead one, either. “Better?” he asked.

“Much better,” she agreed, finding it so adorable that he was thinking through all the little things like this. “So . . .” She traced lazy designs on the carpet with the toe of her shoe, wondering what else he had in store. “You would’ve brought me up here, with the romantic lighting. And then what?”

“Well . . . I probably would’ve kissed you,” he envisioned, sauntering back towards her.

Oh, kissing. So totally not overrated as far as Maria was concerned. There hadn’t been enough of it during their first time together. “And what would that have felt like?” she kept on playing along.

He stopped when he was standing right in front of her again, his eyes fixed on hers, as if looking at her was the only thing that mattered. “A little bit like this,” he whispered, gently pressing his hand up under her chin to tilt her head back. Her eyelids fluttered shut as their mouths met. Their lips were almost hesitant at first, barely grazing each other, but that lasted merely seconds before he deepened the kiss, suctioning her mouth to his.

Oh god, she thought wondrously, scrunching up his shirt as she held onto him. How did I go days without this?

Pulling away was hard, nearly impossible, in fact, because it felt so damn good. She probably would have just kept on going, but he pulled back, a glint of proud mischief in his eyes. As if he knew that that one little taste was enough to hook her for the rest of the night. And it so was.

“That was pretty good,” she complimented, embarrassed by how literally breathless she sounded.

“Oh, it gets better,” he promised. “Wait for it . . .” He backed up, going a little too far and bumping into his desk, which got Maria to giggle.

“Stealthy,” she teased.

He held up one finger, signaling her to be quiet. And then he reached down, pressed the computer mouse a few times, and suddenly music sifted throughout the room. But not just any music. A song she recognized instantly, because she’d listened to it so many times over the years, she knew it by heart.

( :) )

She gasped in delight as the silky sound of ‘Unchained Melody’ engulfed her, and when she spoke, she could barely get any words out. “My favorite.” Grateful tears sprang to her eyes at once.

“It would’ve been playing,” he promised. “On repeat.”

She smiled shakily, touched. It was hard to explain, but somehow, this little detail meant more than all the other little ones. “How did you know?” she asked.

“I paid attention,” he claimed, making his way over to her again.

She frowned, trying to recall when she might have let this little tidbit of information slip out, when she might have accidentally hummed it while he was around. But she couldn’t.

“Plus,” he added, “you were talking in your sleep one night. So I got it out of you that way.”

She cringed, picturing how unattractive she must have looked carrying on a conversation in her sleep. “Oh god,” she groaned, holding one hand over her face in embarrassment. “Really?”

“Yeah. But don’t worry,” he assured her, moving in close to her. “I thought it was cute.”

She lowered her hand, figuring she couldn’t have looked too bad if he was still romancing her like this.

Romancing. She’d never been romanced before, and she was fairly certain Michael had never treated any other girl like this. It was something new for both of them. A first.

“So you would’ve brought me up here,” she recapped, “dimmed the lights, and played my favorite song. Then what would’ve happened?”

He gazed at her, moving his hand up her side slowly. “I don’t know.”

She fixated on that hand as it rose up higher and higher, brushing against her breast before moving around to trace lazy circles on her back. His other hand stayed firmly in place at her hip, and that look in his eyes remained passionate, yet considerate. He wasn’t going to pressure her into doing this again. Not if she didn’t want to.

But . . . she wanted to. Oh god, did she ever.

Whether he made the first move to kiss her or she made the first move to kiss him didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were kissing. His hands started to hold her tighter, and her hands found their way onto him, too. There were too many clothes in the way, though, so they had to take them off. Just had to. They removed each other’s shirts, swiftly, smoothly, not quite as frantic as last time. And when his bare chest came into view, she was able to take a few seconds to just take it all in and appreciate it, roam her hands over his hot skin and communicate wordlessly that she wanted more.

Like an expert, he reached behind her and unclasped her bra. She gasped as her breasts fell free and immediately mated her chest to his, turning her head to the side so he could ravage her neck. He worked his way down gradually, first kneading her breasts with his hands, then sucking them into his mouth, kissing her sloppily. Every exhale from his mouth heated her skin.

Feeling like she needed something to hold onto, she reached out but found nothing while his fingers worked methodically on her pants. Didn’t matter if she almost fell down, though. He got them down around her feet before she even knew what was happening. And then he was lifting her up, and she was wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, clutching onto him as he carried her over to the bed.

It felt softer than usual. Larger, even, like they had all the space in the world to do whatever they wanted to each other. With each other. For each other.

Her heart was sent beating into overdrive when he sat back and unfastened his own jeans, his eyes never leaving hers as he pushed them down, his boxers-briefs right along with them. She couldn’t help but gasp sharply when she saw it. The first time . . . she’d really just felt it more than anything else. Actually getting to see the growing erection he was privileged to call his own was something else. Something even more exhilarating.

She wanted it. She wanted him. She loved him.

Even though she wasn’t sure how it happened, she found herself on top of him, a naked him that seemed determined to touch every inch of her body. The fact that she was still wearing her panties didn’t stop her from feeling the head of his cock, pressing into her from behind. She moaned into his mouth when she felt it the first time, then tore her mouth away and moaned aloud when she felt it the second time.

But when he started deliberately pressing his hips up into her, that was when everything started to ratchet up a notch, and she felt her breathing start to come in pants. She was too caught-up to be self-conscious about what she looked like or sounded like, though. Too caught-up.

She was glad when Michael really started to take control of the situation by flipping her back over so he could lift up her hips and remove her panties for her. When she was completely naked, just like him, everything started to blend together. In a good way. One touch melded into the next. One kiss on the lips quickly became a whisper in her ear. Her hands became entangled in his hands, and her legs became wrapped up with his. It was like all space between them was vanishing. But not quite.

Not until he reached over to his nightstand, pulled out the drawer, and took out a condom. Not until he put it in his hand and told her to put it on him. Then it was really happening. Then there was no turning back. Then, not only was it more romantic than last time, but it was also more . . . considerate.

He urged her legs apart with his knees and settled in at her entrance, teasing her with the tip of his cock, staring at her both enticingly and questioningly, as if he were asking for permission. And since she didn’t tell him to stop, or even to wait, it was pretty clear that she was ready.

He entered her slowly, but not so slowly that she felt like it was taking too long. She cried out and dug her head back into the pillow. It felt so right, being joined with him, but especially being joined with him like this. This way. This moment.

Leaning down over her, his body blanketing hers, he started to move, his hips meeting hers in a gentle rolling motion, insistently but not forcefully. Passionately but not jarringly. As she tried to hold onto him, she noticed that he was sweating. He felt like a blazing furnace on top of her, and even hotter than that in her. His thrusts started to speed up, of course, but they never got too fast. And every once in a while, he would slow it down and just kiss her, or kiss her while the rest of him kept moving. She loved it, so she wrapped her arms and legs around him, driving him deeper. No space whatsoever left between them now.

When she came, she didn’t even know what hit her, because she’d never experienced it before. It felt like every piece of her body shattered from the pleasure and flew apart in different directions, but he was there to catch every little piece and put it back together. And even after that, he kept moving, kept making love to her.

Making love. There was nothing she could imagine that would be more perfect than this, than being up in her favorite room with her favorite song playing, safely in the embrace of her favorite man in the whole wide world.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Even though Isabel appreciated Tess’s attempts at girls nights, just the two of them hanging out, it seemed to her that it wasn’t having the desired effect. The point was to not think about guys. But it quickly became apparent that, when they weren’t talking about guys, they didn’t know what to talk about.

They each lay on Isabel’s bed that evening, flipping through magazines. Tess was sprawled out on the bottom half, her feet kicked up behind her, a marker cap in her mouth as she circled every advertised clothing item that interested her. Isabel rested against the headboard, rereading the same tabloid story about Khloe Kardashian and Lamar Odom for the tenth time. She kept spacing out around the fifth paragraph. It just couldn’t hold her interest. Plus, it probably didn’t help that the article was about infidelity.

“How’s Kyle?” she asked her friend when she could no longer even fake interest in the magazine in front of her. “Is he still mad at you?”

Tess set her own magazine down, spitting the marker cap out of her mouth. “No,” she replied. “It was weird when he was, though. Like getting lectured by a parent.”

Isabel smirked a little. “Bet you’ve never thought of Kyle as a father figure before.”

“No. But sometimes I do call him daddy.” Tess wriggled her eyebrows mischievously.

“That’s . . . creepy,” Isabel remarked, but inside, she was envious.

“It’s fun to be kinky once in a while,” Tess proclaimed, “to try something new.”

“Yeah.” Isabel thought regretfully about all the new things Michael had gotten her to try. She’d done a lot of things with him she used to think she’d at least wait until college to do. Looking back, she was thankful she hadn’t been able to go through with anal sex. At least that was one thing she hadn’t given him. “Sometimes,” she whispered. “Sometimes it’s fun to try.”

“Yeah,” Tess agreed. “Speaking of . . .” She bounced onto her side, propping her head up with one hand. “I’ve already had a bunch of guys come to me asking when you’re gonna be ready to date again. What should I tell them?”

Isabel rolled her eyes, focusing on the article in front of her again. “Not for a long time,” she replied, her eyes skimming but not really registering any of the words she was reading. “That’s what you should tell ‘em.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Like a month?”

Isabel gave her a look.

“Two months?”

“Probably more than that.” The most bitter pill to swallow, though, was that she was absolutely certain it wouldn’t take Michael that long. He’d be back up on the horse in no time at all, like nothing had happened. Because, to him, it just wasn’t as big of a deal as it was to her.

“Well, whenever you are ready to give it another go with some great guy this time . . . don’t let me convince you to get back together with Michael,” Tess cautioned. “I feel so responsible.”

“It’s not your fault, Tess.”

“Yeah, but if I hadn’t--”

“We would’ve gotten back together anyway. And it probably all would’ve ended the same way.” Some things were just sort of inevitable.

“You think?”

“Yeah. I should’ve known better.” She sighed, flipping past the Kardashian article. The next one was about sister Kim, and it didn’t look any more interesting. “I wonder if he’s moved on already,” she mused.

“You mean with Maria?” Tess made a face of disgust.

“Do you think they’re . . .” Isabel couldn’t even finish the sentence, but she didn’t need to. Tess understood what she was saying.

“No, I don’t. Notice how down in the dumps he’s been these past few days? Clearly he’s still feeling the pain of losing you.”

“Or the pain of not being with Maria now that we’re over.”

“Well, whichever . . .” Tess shrugged. “He’s not getting what he wants. So that means he’s getting what he deserves. He’s alone and lonely, hopefully for a long, long time.”

Isabel frowned, trying to picture that version of Michael. For as long as she’d known him, he’d had women in his life, whether it was her as his girlfriend or more casual flings here and there. It seemed weird to envision a Michael all by himself. “So you really don’t think they’ve hooked up yet?” she asked, skeptical.

“No,” Tess answered, sounding sure at first, until she quietly added, “I don’t think so.”

Isabel inhaled shakily, hoping her friend was right. Even though she wasn’t holding out hope for a reconciliation, the pain of losing him would hurt just a little bit less if he didn’t move on so quickly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael lay with Maria that night, his arms around her, her body curled up against his side. Her head was halfway on the pillow, halfway on his chest, and her eyes were shut. Even though she was falling asleep, every once in a while, the hand she had on his chest moved, or the leg she had draped over his shifted.

They’d been lying like this for a good twenty minutes now, ignoring the sounds his family was making downstairs. Maria looked exhausted, and Michael wondered why she didn’t just fall asleep. All he could figure was that, like him, she didn’t want the day to end. But wasn’t it the perfect way to end the day, though? He couldn’t imagine anything better than falling asleep next to her, holding her tight, feeling her naked skin against his, knowing he’d wake up with her in his arms the next morning.

“Michael?” she murmured, her voice quiet and drowsy.

“Hmm?” He rubbed his hand gently against her hip, loving the silky feel of her flesh.

It took her a moment to say anything, and he wondered if she would be too tired to finish her thought. When she did, her voice was only a whisper, but he heard it loud and clear: “I love you.”

He knew that. He’d known it for a while now. But something about hearing it right after they’d made love . . . it was different. Proven. A person couldn’t do what they’d just done without the feelings being absolutely genuine and unwavering.

He had genuine feelings. Unwavering ones.

Holy shit.

“I love you, too,” he returned, certain, without a doubt, that he would always feel this way. He kissed her forehead softly and continued to hold her close, waiting until she had fallen asleep to let himself do the same.








TBC . . .

-April
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LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
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April
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Part 48

Post by April »

Okay, I was having problems with this site earlier this morning, so I'd better get this update out while I still can!

Eva:
And thàt was how it should've been the first time! Way to go, Michael! I feel like a cheerleader, whistling approvingly at the side lines! 8) Crazy thought cause it was a very beautiful moment too!
I'm glad you liked it. That whole 'favorite song' thing has been such a point of flirtation for Michael and Maria that I wanted to make it a beautiful point of romanticism, too.

Sara:
Well Michael...that was better. And I do have to say, at least he isn't pretending with his feelings. Even with Isabel he NEVER cared about what she was feeling after he used her body.....with Maria though he does....well did. I am glad.
Michael is very open about his feelings for Maria. And that's a good thing, because given Maria's circumstances, she needs to know that it's real in order to get involved in a relationship like this.

Ines: Hey you!
I've just read it all in a few days - hooked!
Awesome! I'm so glad! This was not a short story to get caught up on, so I really appreciate it.
Loving all the song recs!
I take pride in my taste in music, so I'm glad you actually listen to them!
PS - added you on tumblr!
Cool! Thanks!


Thank you for the feedback! I really appreciate it!








Part 48








While most everyone else was studying for the American government test in school the next day, Kyle was busy studying up on the vast repertoire of football plays for his future university. His dad told him that, after assessing the talent level of the other quarterback recruits Alabama seemed likely to get, there was no one else in his league. So he had to know the plays, had to make a good impression so he could secure the starting quarterback spot that was on the line. Most of the hard work would come in the summer. Now was preparation time.

To him, high school was already a fading memory. He was thinking so far ahead that he didn’t even feel like he was really there sometimes. But when Michael came scampering towards the table, he remembered that high school wasn’t over, and not everyone was as focused on the future as he was.

“Hey, man,” Michael said, taking a seat beside him.

“Hey.” Kyle closed the playbook and hid it beneath his government textbook. He was under strict orders not to let anyone get a glimpse of it. Top secret stuff. Of course, if Michael came to Alabama, too, he’d get a playbook of his own.

Michael didn’t say anything, but he looked like he wanted to. He was fidgeting a lot, had a little bounce to his posture. And for once, he looked alert. Michael never looked alert in the morning, especially not at school.

“What’s up?” Kyle asked, sensing that there was a very specific reason for his friend’s good mood.

“Uh . . .” Michael just smiled and laughed, scratching his eyebrow. He didn’t have to say anything for Kyle to understand.

“So . . . you got laid, huh?”

At first, Michael just grinned proudly, but then he added, “More than that.”

“Twice?”

“More than that.”

“Three times?”

“More.”

“Holy cow, are you a man or a machine?” Kyle asked in astonishment.

“No, I mean . . . twice, okay, but it was just more. You know, more than it ever has been,” he elaborated.

“This was with Maria, right?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure. Sometimes it’s hard to keep up with you.”

Michael at first made a face of annoyance, than relented. “Yeah, I guess that’s fair. But this is the way it’s gonna be from now on. Me and Maria. I’m tellin’ you, man . . . it was so much more. I never felt like that with Isabel. Or anyone, you know?”

“Oh, trust me, I know.”

“And it’s like . . . like I finally get it, you know?” There was this dazedly happy look on Michael’s face as he stared off into space, still waxing poetic. “I get what you mean when you say Tess is the one. ‘cause Maria’s the one for me.”

It was a bold declaration, especially from a guy who had spent the better half of his adolescent years playing the field in an effort to avoid settling down. Kyle wasn’t about to tell him to slow down, though, or to not get ahead of himself. If Michael was really feeling this way for the first time, then he deserved to get caught up in it and experience it for all it was worth.

“You’re high on your sex life right now. You realize that, right?” Kyle said.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, grinning goofily. “I know.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maybe it was because her mind was elsewhere, but Maria could not find the right spot on the right shelf for The Great Gatsby. It was a little ridiculous that it was taking so long, because it was one of the most checked-out books following the release of the movie. Either she was just not very good at this job, or she just couldn’t focus.

It was probably a focus thing. All day long, all she’d been thinking about was . . .

She squeaked in surprise when she felt a hand on her arm, and before she was even completely turned around, a warm mouth was on hers, kissing her deeply. She relaxed into his embrace, letting him push her back against the shelf. Gatsby fell from her hand.

“I missed you,” Michael murmured between kisses.

She smiled, wondering if his day at school was feeling as long as her day at work was. “I missed you, too.” She’d spent the majority of her morning, remembering how sexy she’d felt with his hands all over her and how comfortable she’d felt falling asleep in his arms. Waking up had been torture. Moving out of that bed had been almost impossible.

He seemed all too eager to take simple kissing to the next level as he reached behind her and cupped her ass, squeezing suggestively. She laughed a little, holding onto his shoulders as she reluctantly leaned back a bit. “As much as I’d love to . . . I’m at work, and your mom’s my boss, and there are other people here.”

“So?”

She gave him a look. He couldn’t be serious. How was the mom thing not a turnoff?

“Okay, I can wait,” he gave in. “But tonight . . .” He brought one hand around to her front, hovering just below her bellybutton.

“Tonight,” she echoed. They were going to have to be quiet. His parents—or at least one of them—would be home this time, and Tina and Dylan would be there, too. Maybe after everyone else was asleep, then they could just . . .

Her mind raced. The possibilities were endless.

“This is so different,” she told him.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever really looked forward to sex before.”

Now it was his turn to make a face. “Are you serious?”

“No, it was always like this . . . obligation. I never felt like I got anything out of it. Until last night.”

“That’s right.” He sounded . . . proud. And that was adorable. “In fact, you got something out of it two times.”

“Yeah, I’ve never felt like that before,” she admitted, lowering her hands to tug on the waist of his jeans.

“Never?”

She shook her head sincerely. “Nope. Not until you.”

“Are you kidding me? I gave you your first orgasm?”

“Shh.” She giggled lightly, pulling him closer by pulling on his pants. “First of many, I hope.”

“Oh, yeah,” he assured her, cupping her ass with both hands again. “I’m just gettin’ started, I promise.”

Oh, she liked the sound of that.

Just as they had started kissing again, Krista rounded the corner from the adjacent aisle of books to this one. Maria heard her more than saw her and pushed Michael away, startled, knowing that Krista would have had to have her head in a book to not see or suspect anything.

“Michael,” she said. “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, uh . . .” He looked at Maria, then back at his mom. “Lunch break.”

His mom frowned, asking, “Where’s your food?”

“Oh, I already ate.”

Maria averted her eyes, hoping she wasn’t getting red in the face. Poor Michael. He wasn’t hiding it very well.

“Subway,” he went on. “Meatball sub. Pretty good. Not enough cheese on it for my taste, though. I might go back and complain.”

“How about you go back to school?” Krista suggested quickly.

“That’s . . . a good idea, too,” he relented. “I’ll go learn something. Maybe somethin’ I’ll use in life.” He started backing away, looking all sorts of awkward as he ran into another shelf, knocking over a few books. He put them back up in places they didn’t belong, then waved goodbye as he scampered out of sight.

Bending down to pick up the Gatsby book, Maria continued to avoid all eye contact with Krista, wondering if she looked as obvious as she felt.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pep rallies. Worst thing ever in Isabel’s opinion. She didn’t want to be there, nor did she want to even pretend like she wanted to be there. But since sub-district basketball was happening next week, they just had to host a pep rally to show support for all the athletes, most of whom didn’t express any gratitude whatsoever. So really, what was the point?

She did the fight song dance without even thinking, because she’d done it so many times that the moves were permanently etched into her brain now. Tess was at the front of the formation, of course, getting way more into it. It was a good thing most of the students were watching her.

Kyle, in particular, had his eyes glued to her. Naturally. Clearly. He never looked at anyone else. He never wanted to. But right beside him, Michael was talking to one of their loser friends, not even paying attention. Worse, he was laughing. Not at them, but probably at some stupid joke. Some stupid, lame, male hormonal joke. He looked like he was in a good mood. He looked . . . peppy.

When they got done shouting “Go, Fight, Win!” four times at the end of the routine, Isabel was relieved it was over. Except it wasn’t over. She had to stand out in the middle of the gymnasium for the rest of the pep rally, which was an unbearable twenty minutes long, while Tess orchestrated things on the microphone. There was a failed attempt at getting the athletes to do a minute-to-win-it game that involved getting them dizzy by spinning them around and them having them attempt to shoot free throws, and that was followed by a lackluster speech by the coach. And then it was pretty much over, and three minutes before the final bell of the day rang, they did the fight song dance one more time, and then, mercifully, they were released.

As she was heading out of the gym, Isabel heard somebody call her name, so she turned around, hoping pathetically that it was Michael. But much to her surprise, Alex was there. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey.” Like Michael, he looked peppy, too. He had a smile on his face, bounce in his step. That sort of thing.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked.

“It’s Wednesday,” he replied. “Study Buddies day.”

“Oh.” Crap. She’d totally forgotten about that. “Right.” What was wrong with her? That tutoring program was supposed to be her pride and joy, the brightest of all the bright marks she would leave on this school. And now she was just spacing it off?

“I just caught the tail end of the pep rally,” he remarked, tagging along with her as she slinked through the crowded hallway.

“I’m sorry.”

He laughed a little. “No, you . . . I thought you guys did good.”

“Not me,” she muttered dejectedly. “I wasn’t cheerful.”

“Well . . .” He trailed off, like he wanted to disagree but couldn’t.

“I’m a cheerless cheerleader. I’m an oxymoron. Or . . . maybe just a moron in general,” she contemplated.

“No, come on, don’t say that.”

“Why not?” She snorted at how unhappy she sounded, hating that she couldn’t pull herself out of this pit of despair.

“So I take it things have been rough ever since . . .” Again, he didn’t finish.

“Yeah.” The roughest part of all of it, though, was that it wasn’t getting any easier.

“I know what it’s like,” he emphasized. “Except . . . it’s probably even harder for you. You gotta see him every day. I only see Liz once in a while. Campus is a lot bigger than this school.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” she grumbled, not even bothering to sugarcoat it.

“You know, if you ever need someone to talk to,” he offered, “or if you wanna just hang out sometime . . . I’m here.”

“Thanks,” she said, thinking that it might be a good idea to take him up on that. Alex was one of the only people she trusted anymore, and one of the few people who could truly understand.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Andy was the only one who didn’t come downstairs for dinner that night. Not surprising in any way. Still, Maria had thought that just maybe he’d make an effort since this was her and Dylan’s first night back. Well, technically she’d been there last night, too, but . . . only Michael knew that.

As they were wrapping up their meal, Michael was engaged in an adorable conversation with Dylan, all about football. Dylan could barely even finish his food, because he was jabbering so much, so excited about the prospect of playing on an actual team this summer.

“So you wanna do it?” Michael asked. “You wanna play?”

“Yeah!” Dylan exclaimed.

“But it’s not gonna be like it is when it’s just me and you,” Michael reiterated. “You’ll be with other kids. Kids your age. But I’ll be there, too. I’ll drive you to practice and come to your games.”

Maria’s heart swelled at the sound of that. Dylan had never had this before. Any of it.

“I’ll come, too,” Tina chimed in.

“Yay!” Dylan yelled, clapping his messy hands together.

“Dylan . . .” Maria reached over with a napkin and cleaned her son’s fingers off. He was eating food with his hands that was meant to be eaten with a fork.

“So where did you hear about this?” Krista asked Michael, setting her own napkin atop her empty plate.

“My friend Jase. His little brother’s on the team,” Michael answered.

“Little brother?” Krista echoed.

“Yeah.”

Maria noticed it, the slight look of alarm in the other woman’s eyes. It was clear she was freaked out that her son was acting like a dad to someone who, technically, in terms of the age-spread, could have been a younger sibling. Michael probably didn’t notice anything, though, because he was mostly just watching Dylan.

Oh, well, Maria thought. She couldn’t blame Krista for being wary. Any mom would be. As a mother herself, she could understand. But she wasn’t going to dwell on it. No way. She was still feeling way too happy about . . . everything.

“Tina, will you help me with the dishes?” Krista asked.

Her daughter reluctantly got up and started clearing up the table. “Thanks,” Maria said when Tina took her plate.

“You’re welcome,” Tina said politely, before leaning down and whispering in Maria’s ear, “We missed you.”

Maria smiled. It was really nice to be missed, to have people in her life who actually cared. Everything about her life with these people was . . . different. In a good way.

When Krista and Tina headed over to the sink and started filling it up with water, Dylan started rambling incoherently about something. Maria was able to translate a few words and gathered that he was happy he was going to be back in his room tonight. Michael just smiled and nodded and said, “Yeah,” a few times, but his attention was starting to divert, too. Now, he was looking right at her.

He didn’t have to say anything. She knew what he was thinking. Mostly because she was thinking the same thing.

When Dylan got bored, he yipped, “Ooh, I wanna help!” and slid down off his seat, running into the kitchen. He ran into Krista’s legs in his haste.

“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” Michael teased. “You’re not supposed to wanna do chores.”

Dylan just laughed as Krista pulled over a chair for him to stand on. And just like that, he was helping dry while Tina was washing, and Krista was offering him pointers here and there.

“He’s a good kid,” Maria said, feeling lucky on all sorts of levels.

“Yeah, he is,” Michael agreed. He watched them for a few seconds, but then he turned his head to the side, and he was looking at her all suggestively again. It was like a talent that he could shift from the adorable dad role to the tempting boyfriend one so quickly.

Boyfriend. She savored the thought. Was he her boyfriend now? Surely. It didn’t feel like something that needed to be discussed or confirmed. It was just . . . obvious.

She felt a blush creep up to her cheeks, maybe because of her own thoughts or maybe because of his intense gaze. Either way, she figured this must be what being on cloud nine felt like.

Without saying anything, he reached over and put his hand on her leg underneath the table, high up on her thigh, resting it there for just a few seconds before he tried to slip it in between her legs. She swatted it away playfully, because the last thing she wanted to do was have Krista see. The poor woman. She’d probably already seen too much at the library.

“Stop,” she whispered.

“You want me to stop?”

She smiled coyly, because he had her there. Of course she didn’t want him to stop. She longed for him to keep going, because she wanted his hands all over her, caressing every inch. Because she was pretty damn sure he had the best hands in the entire world.

“Hey.” That was all he said before giving her the most mischievous look she’d ever seen from him. Everything he wanted to do was practically plastered on his face. It was obvious in the way he leaned in closer, in the way his eyes roamed all over her, in the way he had to link his hands together to keep them to himself. When his eyebrows jutted up suddenly, she almost burst out laughing. When he made the ‘let’s go upstairs’ motion with his head, her whole body tingled with delight.

Krista and Tina weren’t paying attention. Dylan had their focus now. He was a regular entertainer drying those dishes. Which was a good thing, because Maria didn’t want to have to make up some corny excuse to leave the table.

Michael made the first move. He just got up quietly and walked away from the table, sending one quick glance back over his shoulder as he headed up the stairs, as if to say, You’d better follow me.

She sat back, trying to look relaxed and inconspicuous. She’d give it a minute. Then she’d get up, too.

It was hard to be quiet, of course, but kind of exhilarating. It turned out it was even harder afterward, because sex with Michael was so electric that she wanted to scream out at the top of her lungs just how good it was, how much she loved it, how much she loved him. But since she couldn’t very well do that without alerting everyone else in the house to what they were up to, she settled for some contented moans instead. She felt so comfy and cozy—and still pretty turned on—lying on top of him, their slick bodies still sliding against each other. “That was amazing,” she murmured.

“I know, right?” he agreed as his fingers combed through her hair. “I told you I could be better.”

“Better and better all the time.” She grinned.

“Oh, I’m just gettin’ started,” he promised.

“Really?” She gasped when he lifted his hips, rubbing his renewing erection against her.

“Oh, yeah. I got skills.”

“Like what kind of skills?”

“Serious skills.” He kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth expertly. “Like that.”

“Mmm.” There was something nice about this, being with someone who knew exactly what he was doing. She had some experience, sure, but with Michael . . . it was like she was in the hands of a master. The most amazing, sensual hands . . .

“I’m just like . . . intense,” he proclaimed. “I’m an intense person. Especially in bed, you know. I’m intense.”

“Oh, I know.”

“It’s intense.”

It was. And that was exactly why she was enjoying it so much. It was more than just sex. So much more.

“You want me to make you cum again?” he whispered huskily, the aggressive passion in his voice contrasting with the tender way he touched her cheek. “Huh?”

“Yeah.” Maybe it was just the newness of it, but she felt like she could do this all night long.

“Yeah?” He started to shift beneath her, even just the slightest movements making her head spin. “Can I go down on you?”

Her eyes must have widened a bit at that suggestion, because that would definitely be new.

“Would I be the first to do that?”

She nodded. Max had never been considerate enough to even offer. Yet, of course, he’d expected her to go down on him whenever he felt like it.

“You want me to?” he asked, his voice a whisper seeking permission.

“Sure.” Doing something new made her a little bit nervous, but an excited kind of nervous. It was nice to think that she’d be able to do something with him she’d never done with anyone before.

“Alright, come on up here,” he urged, rubbing her sides.

“I am up.” And so are you, she thought. In a different way.

“No, like . . . up. Like, sit on my face,” he instructed.

“What?”

“Yeah, just do it.”

“I thought you were going down on me.”

“Same thing.”

“Not really.” This was . . . way more embarrassing. Was that the right word? Maybe not, but since this was going to be a new experience for her, she wasn’t exactly comfortable with being the one so in control.

“Just—trust me, you’ll love it,” he reassured her. “Sit on my face.”

“Michael, I . . .” She wanted to be daring and adventurous and just go for it, but she couldn’t help being hesitant.

“Don’t be self-conscious,” he told her.

“I am, though.”

“Maria, I’ve literally been inside you. There’s nothin’ to be self-conscious about.”

“I know, but . . .” She couldn’t get herself to move. Not this time.

He sighed, relenting to a different position. “Alright, you wanna lay down then?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, you can lay down.” With one arm wrapped around her mid-section, he flipped them over so that he was the one on top. Since he was the one who knew what to do, she let him get her all positioned. He took one of the pillows they weren’t using and put it underneath her to further elevate her hips.

“Spread your legs,” he told her.

Oh my god, oh my god, she thought, her pulse racing in eager anticipation. She did as she was instructed, trusting that he would make this amazing for her, that she would love every second just because he was the one doing it.

He touched her for a moment, massaging, teasing. He looked incredible, poised in between her legs, all his attention focused on her as his own arousal became all the more prominent. Giving her pleasure, she realized, was going to give him pleasure, too.

“Alright, hold on,” he said, brimming with confidence as he scooted back on the bed and lowered his head.

She squealed and bucked her hips the second his mouth made contact. Oh, yes, she was gonna love this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

School was nothing more than a waste of time at this point. Second semester, senior year . . . most people only attended because they had nothing better to do. But Michael had plenty of better things to do. The only reason he got his ass out of bed and hauled himself to pointless school was to make his mom happy. There was still the minute chance that he wouldn’t graduate if he missed too many more days. That was Principal Forrester’s threat, anyway, but Michael knew better. He’d already been accepted to two colleges. What were they really going to do, hold him back because of his shoddy attendance? Yeah, right. They weren’t that eager to spend another year with him.

At least the classes seemed to be getting easier. None of the teachers were really expecting the kids to pay much attention at this point. They were just happy if it remained quiet, which, for the most part, it did, because everyone was too busy spacing out.

As Michael spaced during English class that day, he doodled. But soon enough, his doodle turned into a full-blown sketch. First the eyes, then the mouth. Soon enough, a fairly recognizable drawing of Maria was coming to life at the top of his paper, the paper he was supposed to be taking notes on. He liked drawing, not enough to want to pursue it as a career or anything, but when he was bored and she was on his mind, it seemed like an okay thing to do.

“Michael?”

He looked up from his paper when Ms. Alvarez said his name.

“Are you listening?”

He looked around. No one was listening, so why was he the one getting called out for it? “No,” he answered honestly.

Ms. Alvarez sighed in disappointment and continued on. “I’ll be partnering you up for today’s assignment.”

As her voice droned on, he noticed Isabel, still sitting just two seats away. She was trying to not look noticeable as she glanced over at his desk. So he closed his notebook.

Ms. Alvarez rolled through the list of who was partnered up with whom for whatever the hell it was they were doing, and Michael knew it wasn’t going to be good when he was one of the last one’s left. Because one of the only other names who hadn’t been called was hers.

“Michael, you’re with Isabel.”

“Ooh . . .” a couple of guys in the class said. Like being partnered up together was going to hurt or something. Well . . . maybe it would for her. But he could do it. He was fine.

“Spread out around the room,” Ms. Alvarez instructed.

Isabel immediately shot to her feet, scurrying towards the teacher’s desk. Michael watched as she quietly tried to get the partners switched up. Clearly she would have rather been with someone else, anyone else. Even that girl who ate her own hair. But Michael didn’t have to hear the conversation to know what Ms. Alvarez’s response was: Something about picking partners at random, drawing names out of a hat or drawing sticks or something. Putting a couple together wasn’t her first choice, either, but as luck would have it, that was just how it turned out.

“But we’re not a couple,” he heard Isabel say.

Ms. Alvarez shrugged helplessly and probably said a few words of encouragement.

Ultimately, the partners didn’t change, and Isabel slinked back to her desk, a look of dread on her face. She sat down and held her head in both hands, not even looking at him.

Well, here goes nothing, he thought, deciding to at least make an effort. He got up and moved one desk over so that he was sitting beside her. “What’re we supposed to be doin’?” he asked.

She ripped three pages of paper covered with handwriting out of her notebook and thrust them at him. “Reading each other’s rough drafts.”

“Of that story we were supposed to write?”

She nodded wordlessly.

“Oh. Here.” He took a crinkled up paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. “I only got one paragraph done.”

“Of course.” She finally lifted her head up from her hands and started in, looking like she was trying to be completely focused on reading what he had written.

He tried to start in on hers, too, but he couldn’t get into it. Not because it wasn’t good—obviously Isabel was the best writer in the class—but just because it felt weird. Writing was personal to her. He’d never read anything of hers, not even when they’d been dating. Maybe she’d never trusted him enough for that, or maybe he’d just never expressed enough of an interest.

“Nice drawing,” she mumbled.

Crap. Maybe he should’ve held off on doodling until another class, one he didn’t have with her.

“So are you guys, like . . . together now?” she asked, her lips pressed tightly together with anger, her eyes narrowed.

He didn’t want to lie to her, but the truth was going to crush her. There was no good response to give. “You could say that.”

She nodded with bitter acceptance, then kept on questioning. “So is she your girlfriend now? Are you guys dating or just hooking up or--” She stopped abruptly. There must have been something about the look on his face, something that made it perfectly clear to her that he and Maria were together now in every sense of the way. And even though she’d been the one to ask the question in the first place, she looked devastated.

Sorry, he thought but didn’t say. He was sorry, to an extent. Sorry that he’d hurt her, again. But he wasn’t sorry for feeling what he felt for Maria, and for acting on those feelings. Because being with her was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He couldn’t be completely sorry about that.

Isabel was trying not to look at him, but in a way, that just made it all the more obvious that tears were forming in her eyes, welling up, about to spill over. Her lower lip was trembling, and he knew that, in her mind, she was probably picturing all the things she didn’t want to picture: Maria and him together. Really together. Like how they’d been together last night.

And finally, she just couldn’t take it anymore. “Great story,” she muttered, slapping his crumpled paragraph back down onto his desk. She sprang from her seat and bolted from the room without asking for a pass. Her hasty exit drew everyone’s attention, and the talking started up. Gossip. Fantastic.

“Noise level down,” Ms. Alvarez cautioned. But Michael knew it was no use. He and Isabel were still high-profile people at West Roswell High. When she tried to work with him and then got all emotional and fled the room, it was bound to make headlines.








TBC . . .

-April
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LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
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April
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Part 49

Post by April »

Ines:
Where can I buy a Michael Guerin? Seriosuly. Even if he has been an asshole for a lot of this fic so far, I can't say I hate him one bit! It's that pull towards a bad boy with a secretly good heart underneath the rebellious exterior.
I'll sell him to you. ;) I've really enjoyed writing this version of Michael, probably more so than any other Michael I've written. I know he can be an absolute ass at times, but like you said, beneath that exterior, there is something much different on the interior.

Sara:
they are really ballsy to be having sex in the house, with everyone there and not knowing when tina or dylan OR his mom could walk in...ballsy.....
Well, as long as they lock the door and stay quiet, they should be fine. ;)

Carolyn: Glad to have you back! Oh, Maria's mom . . . yes, her hands are all over Valenti a lot, but not right now.


Thank you for the feedback!

Ooh, I love this song called "Dream Machines" by Big Deal, so I'll suggest it today when you see :) You can listen to it here. It's a lighthearted-sounding song with some ironically deep lyrics.









Part 49








The lunch rush wasn’t so much a rush that day as it was a drag. A total and complete drag. Time was dragging. The whole whopping three customers were dragging their way out the door. Maria was dragging behind on her work, because she just wasn’t into it. Her plan had been to spend the afternoon with Dylan until she’d gotten called in to work. So here she was, covering for Agnes, watching the clock tick ahead at micro-speed, wishing she were somewhere else.

It was hard to keep her mind on what she was doing. She kept thinking back to last night, kept visualizing it in her mind: Michael’s head nestled firmly between her legs, his eyes closed as he alternated between kissing and licking the most sensitive part of her. The best part had been how he opened his eyes every once in a while and looked up at her, almost as if he were gauging his progress.

She started to get turned on just thinking about it. She would have loved for him to swing by today, because she totally could have gone for the fast and furious kind of sex right now. Anything to satisfy this longing . . .

She longed to be back in that bed with him, clutching the sheets, digging her head back into the pillow and fighting desperately to stay as quiet as she could while he got her off. She longed to see him lapping up the evidence of her orgasm as she came right into his mouth.

Oh, good god, she thought, shaking her head. This guy was turning her into a sexual connoisseur. Not that she had any complaints, but . . .

“Slow day,” Jose, the cook, droned from the kitchen.

Conversation. Good. Something to distract her from all these perverted thoughts. “Yeah,” she agreed, glancing up at the clock again. Thirty-five seconds later than it had been the last time she’d look. “Really slow.”

“Ah, at least it’s Friday, though,” Jose said. “You got any big plans for the weekend?”

Plans? Oh, yeah, she thought eagerly, just smiling and nodding in response as the thoughts came rushing in again.

That night, she didn’t hesitate to put those plans into action. Once again hidden away in their bedroom, she wasted no time getting her boyfriend’s shirt off, loving the feel of his flesh beneath her fingertips.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked almost tauntingly. “Three nights in a row. I don’t wanna tire you out.”

“I’m not tired,” she assured him as she unfastened his jeans. “Dylan’s asleep, we’re alone, and I’ve been thinking about you all day. So yes, I’m up for it.” Once she had his pants unzipped, she tugged them down, but not far enough to get them off.

“That’s my girl,” he growled, kissing her hungrily. His hands started to claw at her shirt, trying to get it off, but she wasn’t about to let that happen. No, if she got naked, then he’d take control, and he’d make it all about her. And right now, she wanted to make it all about him for a change.

She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back. With his pants halfway down his thighs, he lost his balance and practically fell back on the bed.

“Look at you,” he remarked, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “Takin’ charge.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She wasn’t used to this, but after trying something new last night, she was feeling adventurous. Sinking down to her knees, she pulled his pants off the rest of the way. Then he took off his boxers and tossed them aside. His cock was already hard, and it practically leapt into her hand when it was freed.

He grinned as she started to handle him. “Feels good.”

Oh, if only he knew . . . it was about to feel a whole lot better. “So how do you like to have it done to you?” she asked.

He frowned in confusion, even though he had to know exactly what she meant. “What?”

“You know.” She smiled in what she hoped was an alluring way. “Do you like to be lying down or standing or . . .”

“Oh, uh . . .” He chuckled lightly, a surprised expression on his face. “Well . . . I guess sittin’ down like this is fine.”

“Okay.” She walked forward on her knees a little bit, getting her mouth closer to his straining member, still stroking his length. She swallowed the lump in her throat, determined not to be nervous. Whatever she did, Michael would enjoy. He wouldn’t compare her to the other girls he’d been with.

“Wait a minute,” he said, placing his hand atop hers to stop it from moving. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know.” He wasn’t pressuring her the way Max always had, and she liked that. “But I’m going to.”

“Why?”

She smirked. “Because I want to.”

He laughed again, and she realized just by the tone of it that he was the one who was a bit nervous. She studied him for a moment, contemplating, trying to understand why he was feel nervous about getting a blowjob. They were very much sexually involved now, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t had one before. Maybe . . . maybe he was more concerned than anything. Maybe he worried that she felt pressured.

“I really want to,” she insisted, understanding why he might be hesitant. The last time she’d done this, she hadn’t exactly been with him. The last time she’d done this, it had been . . . dehumanizing. Traumatizing. And a whole lot of other things. But this wasn’t last time. This was now. This was them.

“You do, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah. These last couple nights, you’ve been all about making me feel good. Now I wanna make you feel good.”

He sighed, and his whole body relaxed a bit. “Alright,” he gave in, removing his hand from hers. “I’m not gonna put up too much of a fight.”

“You’d better not.” She resumed stroking him, trying to keep her breathing even and steady as she surveyed the cock in front of her. Michael was blessed with more than adequate size, and whenever he was in her, it was snug and perfect. The thought of managing to get him in her mouth was a bit overwhelming, but she wasn’t going to back out now.

Gripping the base of his erection, she leaned forward a bit, first just tracing the head of it around her mouth, like she was using it to apply lip gloss or something. The sight of his made Michael moan, and that got her to laugh. Her breath must have tickled or something, because his hips jumped in response.

“Damn,” he mumbled, “you haven’t even started and already . . .” He was silenced when she kissed the tip of it twice, then bent her head a bit and kissed her way down the side, all the way down to the base before tilting his whole cock up and licking the underside of it, all the way back up to the tip.

“Oh, shit,” he swore, watching her in awe.

She began to swirl her tongue around the head of his shaft, gaining confidence now as she tasted the pre-cum gathered there. She done this before, and she knew what she was doing. Now it was all just a matter of discovering what things he liked the best and getting the biggest reaction out of him.

Sensing that he wasn’t going to have a lot of stamina to hold out, she quickened her pace, opening her mouth to take in the entire head of his cock. She moved her mouth up and down gradually, getting him all slickened. She took in more and more of him with each bob of her head, trying to apply just the right amount of pressure as she sucked on him. There was no way she could get all of him in her mouth, but for tonight, it would be enough.

Guttural groans started to escape him, and his hips started to thrust upward instinctively. She mimicked what he had done last night with her, though, and put one hand on his waist, urging him to stay down. Then she looked up and made eye contact with him, knowing he would love it.

“Fuck,” he cursed, obviously trying to keep it together, to last as long as he could. But she could see that he was losing it. It was written all over his face. Tangling one hand in her hair, he pushed down on her head just slightly, urging her to go faster. When she did, his eyes nearly rolled back into his head.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warned her.

When she didn’t back away, he tried to push on her shoulders to tell her to back up. But she wasn’t having any of that. No, if she’d cum in his mouth, he was sure as hell going to cum in hers. It was only fair, wasn’t it? She so appreciated that he was trying to be considerate, but she wasn’t doing anything she didn’t want to do.

“Maria, I’m serious,” he said. “I’m gonna cum.”

She pulled her mouth away just long enough to say, “Good,” and then she took him in again, closing her eyes as she focused intently on getting him off.

Seconds later, he was groaning louder than he should have, his face contorting as he spilled himself into her mouth. She stilled her head, trying to swallow as much as she could, but it wasn’t easy. He came really hard, and she wasn’t expecting so much. Some of it seeped out the side of her mouth, dripping onto her chin. It was hot and sticky and didn’t exactly have the best taste in the world, but since it was coming from Michael, she wanted to taste all of it she could.

He lay back after his release, breathing raggedly, and she licked off his shaft, using her fingers to collect what had spilled on her face. She licked them off, too, feeling proud of herself for getting him to cum so quickly. It seemed like he had really enjoyed it, and that had been her mission all along.

She crawled up onto him, careful to avoid what would be a sensitive spot for at least a little bit, and straddled his waist. “So?” she prompted.

When he opened his eyes, he looked dazed. “Wow,” was the only word he got out.

She giggled happily. It was such a relief to know that she could get the same reaction out of him that he tended to get out of her.

“I love you,” he murmured, his words all blending together.

She bent her head and kissed him, her hair falling forward to curtain their faces. She knew he would get a rush out of tasting himself on her lips. It would turn him on even more. And knowing Michael, after what she had just done for him, he would undoubtedly want to return the favor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Is this really what my life’s been reduced to? Isabel wondered while she stood on the sidelines at the sub-district basketball game that evening. Cheering at a series of meaningless games that I couldn’t care less about? Everything seemed meaningless lately. Even classes, towards which she was typically driven. She couldn’t find the motivation to want to do anything. To study, to cheer, to write . . .

Tess seemed to be living life at the opposite end of the mood spectrum. “Oh, aren’t you gonna miss this when you graduate?” she exclaimed.

“Uh . . . no,” she answered bluntly.

“Oh, come on. The thrill of the game, the rush of cheering for the team . . .”

“It’s not a rush to me,” Isabel informed her, startled by the lack of emotion in her own voice.

“It used to be,” Tess pointed out.

“Not like it is to you. To me, cheering’s just a hobby; for you, it’s this whole lifestyle.”

“Well, I think it’s a pretty good lifestyle then,” Tess chirped, swinging her left leg up onto Isabel’s shoulder so she could stretch. “So are you gonna manage to crack a smile tonight or do I have to hide you in the back row?”

“I don’t know,” Isabel muttered, holding her friend’s foot in place. “I’m not really feeling it.”

“Story of your life lately.” Tess brought her leg back down, and put her hands on her hips. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the English class incident everyone’s talking about, does it?”

Isabel made a face. “What incident? I got up and left the room. That’s it.”

“Oh. Everyone’s saying you slapped Michael, broke into tears, and ran out.”

Isabel rolled her eyes, hating how easily rumors could spread in small schools like theirs.

“What happened?” Tess asked.

She shrugged. “Nothing. We tried to work together. It was fine until I found out . . .” She exhaled shakily, struggling to say it out loud. “He and Maria had sex.”

“Oh.” Tess grimaced sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, trying to act as unaffected as possible. “Whatever. He warned me he was going to, as he was breaking up with me. It’s not surprising; it just . . .” For someone who liked to write, she felt unusually at a loss for words.

“It hurts,” Tess filled in.

( :) )

That was one way of putting it. But hurt was temporary. What she was feeling . . . it felt permanent. “It doesn’t stop,” she ground out frustratedly, wishing it would.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Since the game was happening at the opponent’s school, Maria got to enjoy a nice little half-hour drive on the way there. It was so nice, just her and Michael and Dylan. She felt like a little family. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself, but . . . maybe not. It all felt so natural.

Michael had to carry Dylan up the bleachers, because they were just too precarious for a little guy like him. Once they found their row, though, he set him back on his own two feet, and Dylan waddled forward eagerly. “What they do?” he asked, looking out onto the court as the players finished their warm-up.

“Oh, it’s called basketball,” Michael explained. “It’s not a real man’s sport like football or wrestling, but when you got nothin’ better to do, it’s worth a watch.”

You’ve got nothing better to do?” Maria asked, giving him a pointed look.

“Sure I do,” he admitted, letting his eyes survey her body briefly, “but Dylan doesn’t.”

She smiled and blushed. As wonderful as these lost evenings with Michael had been, it was also fun to be out with him like this, in public, not bothering to hide the fact that they were together, that they were happy. And being able to do something fun with Dylan was an added bonus.

“Are we blue?” Dylan asked as they sat down.

“No, we’re white tonight,” Michael informed him. “The other guys are blue. You don’t wanna cheer for them.”

Yuck,” Dylan said exaggeratedly, making a face.

“Yuck indeed. Can you see?” Michael asked him.

Dylan nodded, but then he crawled up on Michael’s lap anyway.

Adorable, Maria thought, scooting in closer. The minute she looked away from Dylan, she met eyes with someone who probably didn’t think the scene was so adorable. Down on the sidelines were the cheerleaders, and standing in the front row next to Tess was a downtrodden Isabel. She was watching the whole thing.

Crap, Maria thought. Even though she knew she and Michael weren’t doing anything wrong anymore . . . it felt wrong to do anything in front of Isabel, like they were rubbing it in her face or something.

Isabel, of course, tried to look away, but she kept glancing back up there now and again. Michael didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy explaining the rules of the game to the little boy on his lap.

The game began with little fanfare, but as it headed into the second quarter, more and more students showed up. They created their own little section on the bleachers and actually had a lot of school spirit. Most of them were wearing togas for the dress-up theme night.

Dylan yelled just about louder than all the students combined, though. Even though the game wasn’t going the Comets’ way, that didn’t stop him from hopping down off Michael’s lap and standing on his feet the whole time, jumping up and down wildly whenever they scored, accidentally cheering sometimes when the other team scored, too. He was having a great time. But not everyone in that gym was. Maria looked down at Isabel every once in a while, and the girl just looked . . . destroyed. Like she was barely holding it together.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have come,” she leaned in and said to Michael.

He wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “What do you mean? Look at him. He’s havin’ a great time.”

“Yeah, but . . .” She subtly pointed down to the cheerleaders. Isabel had moved to the back row now, and for the past ten minutes, she’d kept her eyes determinedly glued on the game in front of her.

“Yeah, she’s been upset all night,” Michael noted.

“Well, can you blame her?”

Michael shrugged. “No, but . . . she’s gonna have to get used to it.”

She gave him a look.

“I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but . . . we’re together now. We’re not gonna hide it.”

“I know.” On some level, she knew he was right, but still . . . she felt bad. But what could she do? Walking down there and apologizing for stealing the girl’s boyfriend wouldn’t exactly make things any better.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her. “She’ll be fine.”

Maria nodded, hoping he was right. She would hate for Isabel or anyone to not be fine because of what she and Michael had done. But for now, he was right that it was okay to be there. They weren’t breaking any rules or breaking any laws. They were just breaking Isabel’s heart. Which sucked for her, and Maria knew first-hand how much it sucked. But she also knew that, given time, it would heal. Hers had. And now she could barely even remember why it had broken in the first place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At halftime, the game was dire, but the food situation was worse. So Michael headed out to the concession stand to stock up. There wasn’t a whole lot to choose from, but he was confident he would find something that would satisfy Maria and Dylan.

“I need one hot dog—no, two hot dogs—a cheeseburger, super nachos, and . . .” He looked over the candy options, not impressed. “Gummy worms?” Dylan would like those. Heck, he would, too. “Two bags of gummy worms.”

The woman waiting on him hollered his order back to the others who were working, quickly added up his total, and said, “$10.50.”

He handed over a twenty, got his change, and stepped aside so the long line behind him could move forward. A few people back stood his buddy Bubba, wrapped in a toga that looked like it could fall off any minute. He was sweating profusely after standing in the student section that entire first half.

“ ‘sup, man?” he greeted.

“Hey,” Michael returned. “Nice toga.”

Bubba chortled. “I had to tie three sheets together to get it to fit.”

“Well, you’re a big guy.”

“Man, I gotta get in shape.”

Michael laughed inwardly at the thought of Bubba doing anything remotely resembling exercise, especially since he wasn’t going to be playing football at the next level.

“Hey, I know you’re doin’ the whole stepdad thing tonight,” Bubba remarked as he shuffled forward in line, “but you should come sit with us. I got another sheet in my car if you want me to make you a toga.”

As fun as toga night seemed, Michael wasn’t about to ditch the very people he’d come with. “Thanks,” he said, “but I’m, uh . . . I’m fine where I’m at, really.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” He’d done the whole student section thing plenty of times. He was over it now.

“Alright, suit yourself,” Bubba mumbled as he sauntered up to the counter. Before he could take up all the space, the woman behind the counter handed Michael his food. Balancing it precariously in his arms, Michael headed back into the gym.

The Comets fans must have sensed that the game wasn’t going to end well, because many of them had taken off, leaving Dylan plenty of room to run back and forth on the bleachers. He stopped when Michael came back, though, and his eyes lit up as he exclaimed, “Food!”

“Yeah, I got you gummy bears. Is that alright?”

“Yeah.”

Michael distributed the food, cursing when he realized he’d forgotten something to drink. “Shit, soda.”

“It’s okay,” Maria said. “I bet the line’s really long now.”

“Yeah. We’ll get some on the way out.” He settled in next to her, appreciating the way she dug right into those super nachos he’d gotten her. Girl liked to eat. That was sexy.

“He’s gonna get so full on the gummy worms he won’t touch his hot dog,” Maria said as Dylan gobbled down his snack.

“More for me then,” Michael said, biting into his cheeseburger. He let his eyes wander for a bit, watching as the student section sang the clap song. It was really funny and inappropriate, which was why he’d always liked it. One person started out by saying, “I’ve got the clap and I’m giving it to . . .” And then they passed it on to someone else, did a little clap rhythm, and the next person passed it on again. STD humor was hilarious. What was really hilarious, though, was watching Principal Forrester trying to put a stop to it to no avail.

Michael chuckled, and Maria followed his gaze. “Do you wish you were over there?” she asked.

Oh, crap, he hadn’t meant to give her that impression. “No,” he replied.

“Are you sure?” she persisted. “ ‘cause you can go sit by them if you want. I won’t get mad.”

“Maria.” He reached up and wiped a dribble of cheese off her luscious lower lip. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here with you and Dylan. Okay?”

She licked her lips, smiled, then leaned in and kissed him quickly. He tried to deepen it, but she pulled away and teased, “Ugh, you taste like cheeseburger.”

“Well, you taste like nachos.” He nudged her side playfully, eliciting a giggle. Nachos or not . . . she tasted pretty damn good.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The second half of the basketball game was a blur to Isabel. One miserable, disorienting blur where everything started to blend together with everything else. The sound of the buzzer blaring, the squeak of tennis shoes on the gym floor, the thud of the basketball . . . all might as well have just been one sound, because Isabel didn’t care about any one of them in particular. And then there was Tess, screaming her lungs out right in front of her, desperately trying to rally the team and get them back in.

“Go, go! You’ve got to, got to go!”

Isabel did the motions on automatically, just because she had done them for four years and was so used to them.

“Fight, fight! Fight with all your might!”

She didn’t say the words, though. She felt like she wouldn’t be heard.

“Win, win! Here we go again!”

The game couldn’t hold her attention, nor could her friends. All she was really able to notice and separate from all the rest was the sight of Michael and Maria up on the bleachers, looking like a picture-perfect little family with Dylan. The sounds they were making blasted through everything else she was hearing, penetrating the blur. The sound of Maria’s laughter as Michael tickled her side, for starters. It wasn’t even that loud, but to Isabel, it was deafening. The crunch of the nacho chip as Maria held it out for Michael to bite into it. The sound that came when he kissed her forehead or told her he loved her. Because somehow, Isabel was certain that he was telling her he loved her. With no urging or prodding whatsoever, he was just saying it, because he just felt it.

How or when the game even ended, she was barely even aware of. She felt so consumed by her own emotions that she didn’t even really feel like she was there. It was alarming to say the least, being so out of it. She felt like something was wrong with her. It couldn’t be normal to feel this way, to invest so much time and energy into thinking about the guy that she’d once had, the guy who was no longer hers and probably never really had been.

“Well, that was a depressing game,” Tess remarked as they left the gym. “Hopefully the girls fare better next week.”

Next week. Was she really going to be back there, uselessly cheering on a useless team next week? It was all feeling so very pointless.

“I gotta go to the bathroom before we go,” Tess announced. “Wait here.”

Like a zombie, Isabel stood in the middle of the hallway as others passed her by. So many togas. So many people were happy to be there.

Once again, she spotted Michael. He and Maria were walking out the door, and he was hoisting Dylan up onto his shoulders, much to the little boy’s delight.

She stared in disbelief. Was this really the same Michael Guerin she had dated? He was totally like a dad to that kid. And the kid wasn’t even his. It was ridiculous. The whole thing and the fact that she was so wrapped up in it . . . ridiculous.

Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she spun around. A guy she didn’t know was standing there, very jock-like in appearance, although he hadn’t been one of the players on the court tonight. “Hey,” he said.

Feeling like an idiot who had forgotten how to even use her words, she managed to get out a confused, “Hi . . .” wondering what he wanted.

“I’m Josh,” he introduced himself, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I, uh . . . I know I should’ve been watching my own school’s cheerleaders tonight, but I couldn’t help but watch the Comets sideline. Especially you.”

Isabel frowned, wondering why he would waste time watching her when she hadn’t even been doing anything. No jumping, no kicking, no smiling. Exactly the opposite of what a cheerleader was supposed to do. She hadn’t even yelled out most of the cheers.

“I feel like I’ve seen you before. Maybe at wrestling districts or something. Did you cheer there?”

She nodded mutely.

“Yeah, I wrestled. You caught my eye.” He grinned flirtatiously, looking . . . not unlike Michael in that moment. “What’s your name?” he asked.

Well . . . at least he wanted to know that much. When she and Michael had first met, he’d been so busy trying to flirt with her that he’d forgotten to ask what her name was. “Isabel,” she replied.

“Isabel,” he echoed. “That’s a pretty name. And you . . . are a very pretty girl. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Yeah.” Michael had. God, she had to stop thinking about him.

He shifted a bit, finally taking one hand out of his pocket. “Hey, listen,” he said, “I’m havin’ a party since we won the game. I mean . . .” He laughed sheepishly. “. . . since my team won the game. Sorry, I don’t mean to--”

“No, it’s fine,” she cut in. “I . . . don’t care that we lost.” It was a good thing, actually. It meant she wouldn’t have to cheer again tomorrow night.

“Okay, cool. Well, it’s at my house. If you wanna come, I’d be willing to give you a ride.”

Instinctively, her mind told her to reject the offer. Guy she didn’t know inviting her to a party? She didn’t do this sort of thing. But then again . . . what she was already doing clearly wasn’t working. Maybe she needed to switch things up a bit.

“I’m not lookin’ for anything,” he promised. “Honest. I’m a good guy. I just want someone cool to hang out with tonight.”

He seemed sincere enough, but she was doubtful. What were the chances that she’d just happen to run into a nice guy at a random basketball game she didn’t give two shits about? It just didn’t seem likely.

“I could give you a ride home later, too,” he offered, “if you want.”

If I want, she thought. But there was a problem: What she wanted had already walked out that door.

But maybe this would be okay.

Before she could formulate a response, Tess came skipping out of the bathroom, her cheer duffle bag slung over her shoulder. “Alright, that’s better,” she declared. “Ready to go?”

Isabel’s eyes lingered on what’s-his-name, not because he was particularly gorgeous, nor because she was particularly interested. But here he was, offering her. . . something. She wasn’t sure what, but it seemed worth a shot.

“Actually,” she said, hesitating, “I think I’m gonna . . . go to a party.” She felt stupid for agreeing to it, but for some reason, she just didn’t care.

“There’s a party?” Tess asked. “Where?”

“At my house,” Isabel’s new male companion piped up. “Hi.”

Tess surveyed him in confusion. “Hi, who are you?”

“Tess, this is Joe,” Isabel introduced.

“Josh,” he quickly corrected.

“Whatever.” Just another thing she didn’t care about.

“Josh,” Tess echoed skeptically. “And how do you two know each other?”

“We don’t,” Isabel admitted, suspecting that was part of the appeal. “We just met.”

What?” Tess shrieked. “And now you’re going to a party with him?”

“Yeah.” It was a crazy decision, a bad decision, a crazily bad decision; but even though her mind registered that fact, it didn’t seem to matter.

“Okay, excuse us.” Tess grabbed hold of Isabel’s arm and pulled her aside, practically scolding her. “Okay, what’s wrong with you? This isn’t you.”

“I just wanna go have some fun,” Isabel said innocently. “Get my mind off things.”

“Who knows what’s gonna happen to your mind while you’re there, let alone the rest of you,” Tess growled. “Are you crazy? You can’t seriously be contemplating this. It’s an incredibly dumb decision.”

“I know.” Being with Michael had been a dumb decision, too, so why was this surprising?

“You’re not thinking straight. I’m taking you home,” Tess decided. “I’m not letting you go there.”

“You can’t stop me,” Isabel warned.

“What the hell, Isabel? This isn’t safe.”

She shrugged flippantly. “Seems like a nice guy.” She looked over at Josh again, who seemed impatient. His friends were joining him now. Other wrestlers, by the looks of it.

“Oh, look, there we have his nice gangbang friends,” Tess noted sarcastically, rolling her eyes at them.

“Hey, blondie!” Josh called. “You can come, too, if you want. Just follow me to 5th Avenue. Big house. You can’t miss it.”

“I’m not going,” Tess informed him sternly.

“I am,” Isabel decided, determined not to back out now. Just this once, she wanted to take a risk. “I’ll find my own way home.” She tried to walk away, but Tess grabbed hold of her arm again.

“No, Isabel, don’t!”

“I’ll be fine.” She shrugged Tess’s grip away.

Her friend darted in front of her, though, trying to block her progress. “Isabel, please,” she begged, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Get out of my way, Tess.” Gently pushing her aside, she joined up with Josh and his buddies again, allowing him to put his arm around her as he led her out to the car, promising her that she was about to have a great night.








TBC . . .

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Part 50

Post by April »

Carolyn: Thanks, I'm glad you love it!

Sara:
Isabel is spiraling OUT OF CONTROL! I wish she could take a step back and go over her whole relationship with Michael as an outsider. She would see how incredibly bad they were together. I know it hurts to see Michael with Maria and Dylan but she needs to work on moving on....but maybe not so much with a sketchy guy from the other team....I wish Tess would go after her with Kyle...someone needs to be thinking clearly. AHH!
Yeah, Isabel's post-breakup behavior just took a turn for the dangerous. People can do crazy things when their emotions are running high, and Isabel is no different. She's putting herself in a really bad situation and just doesn't really care because she's not thinking clearly.


Thank you for reading and leaving feedback!








Part 50









Tess couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her best friend—her responsible, intelligent, cautious best friend—was throwing all caution to the wind and doing the stupidest thing a young woman could possibly do. It wasn’t like her at all, and the thought of what might happen sent chills up Tess’s spine.

She wanted desperately to run after her, maybe even tag along with her, but she couldn’t do that. If something happened and they both ended up in trouble, then who would help? As much as she hated to allow Isabel to leave with those guys, it was better off if she stayed behind and got some reinforcements. Wasn’t it?

She dropped her cheer bag on the floor and ran back into the gym, searching for Michael. Even though he and Isabel weren’t together anymore, surely he would still care enough about her to help. “Michael!” she called. “Michael?” But the gym was clearing out, and among the very few people left, he wasn’t one of them. “Crap,” she swore, stomping her foot in frustration. She felt useless.

Racing out to the parking lot, she hoped to spot him getting into his car, maybe stop him before and he and Maria took off. But the lot was poorly lit, so even if he was miraculously still around, she couldn’t see him.

I don’t know what to do, she thought, feeling like a nervous wreck. Would it be too irrational to call the police, alert them to a party on . . . where was it again? 5th Avenue? 6th? What if it turned out nothing bad was happening, and then she was the girl who had freaked out for nothing?

She wasn’t about to take the chance. No. Not when Isabel was involved. She scampered back inside to her cheer bag, unzipped it so hard and fast that she broke the zipper, and found her cell phone. She pressed the speed dial number for Kyle.

It took him until the third ring, but finally, he answered, “Hey, baby.”

“Oh, Kyle,” she gasped, so relieved to hear her boyfriend’s voice. “Thank God you picked up. I need your help.”

“Are you okay?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” She wished he had come to the game that night, wished he were there right now. He wouldn’t have let Isabel go. He would’ve been able to stop her. “I need you to come to the game.”

“Are you okay?” he asked again. “What happened?”

“Isabel! She took off with these, like, huge guys we don’t even know! And they said they were having a party, and I tried to stop her, but she just went!”

“Okay, okay,” he said, obviously trying to calm her. “Do you know where they went?”

“I . . . think so. Kyle, I—I didn’t wanna go. I didn’t wanna go by myself, but I couldn’t stop her! What do I do?”

“Just stay there,” he told her. “I’m on my way now. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Okay.” Tears of worry and concern were starting to build up. “Hurry.” When she ended the call, she realized just how tightly she was gripping the phone, just how hard she was breathing, and just how panicked she was feeling for her friend.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kyle was relieved Tess had called him. If she had gone with those guys and something had happened . . . he couldn’t even handle the thought. She’d done the right thing. He just hoped nothing would happen to Isabel.

He got out to the game as quickly as he could, although he had to wait for a train to pass at the tracks, and that slowed him down by about five minutes. When he got there, she ran up to him and threw her arms around him. She was so worried she was crying, so he just tried to assure her that everything was going to be fine and they were going to get Isabel home safe and sound.

The party wasn’t hard to locate. They drove around, searching for 5th Avenue, and when they found it, they found a house that was flooded with people. Some were already out on the front lawn puking, as if the party had been going on a lot longer than it probably really had been. Others were practically hanging off the back porch, climbing in the hot tub. Some old school hip hop music was playing loud enough that the cops would probably be on their way in no time.

“Classy party,” Tess remarked sarcastically.

“We’ll just get Isabel and go.” She couldn’t have been there more than forty-five minutes at the most. Hopefully she wasn’t wasted. Kyle actually had no working mental image of what Isabel would look like wasted.

They bypassed a few pukers on their way inside and they—or rather Tess—got some creepy looks from a few guys upon stepping through the front door.

“Just stay close to me,” he told her, holding out his hand.

She gripped it tightly, mumbling, “Not gonna be a problem.”

People were packed into that place like sardines. Kyle literally had to squeeze past couples who were making out, losers who were getting stoned, and God only knew who or what else. The smell of weed was so overwhelming that he was surprised the cops hadn’t gotten there already.

“I hate parties like this,” Tess groaned, scooting even closer to Kyle when a guy with green spikes for hair stuck his tongue out at her.

“I know,” he agreed, scanning the people in the living room. “You see her?”

Tess moved in as close as possible, peering over his shoulder. “There!” she exclaimed, pointing her out. Isabel was standing around the keg with a few guys, a red plastic cup in her hand. She laughed at something one of them said and took a drink.

Kyle weaved through the crowd with Tess, determined to put a stop to this. It just didn’t look like a good situation for her to be in. Sure, she looked fine right now, but if things escalated, she might not be fine much longer. Besides, it was only a matter of time until this party got busted, and he didn’t want any of them around for that.

“Isabel!” he called.

She snapped her head in his direction. “Kyle? What’re you doing here?”

Tess stepped up beside him and revealed, “I called him.”

Isabel rolled her eyes. “Of course you did.”

The blonde guy beside her squinted his eyes and said, “Kyle? Kyle Valenti, right? I’m Josh Hanson. We wrestled at the Comet Classic sophomore year. Man, you kicked my ass.”

And I can do it again, Kyle thought confidently. “Let’s go home, Isabel,” he said, completely ignoring Josh altogether.

“Uh, I don’t wanna go home,” she told him. “I wanna stay here.”

Tess made a face. “Why? It’s disgusting.”

“It’s a party, blondie,” Josh chimed in. “Loosen up.”

“Yeah,” Isabel agreed. “Loosen up, Tess.”

“Oh, I would, but I’m fairly certain you’re about to get loose enough for the both of us.”

“Okay, just . . .” Kyle gave her a look, signaling for her to calm down a bit. He had this under control. “Isabel, we need to go home,” he told her calmly. “This party’s gonna get busted and you know it.”

“But I’m having a good time,” she insisted, forcing a smile.

“Are you?” She actually looked pretty damn miserable to him.

Gradually, that smile fell, and he saw the real Isabel again, the one who didn’t really want to be there, the one who probably didn’t know why she was there in the first place. The one who would look back on the events of this night and cringe because she knew how dangerous it could be.

“Hey, you know, you guys, there’s plenty of beer for everyone,” Josh offered. Probably his way of being polite. “Got some harder stuff, too. Chronic’s goin’ around. Just stay. Have a good time.”

“We’re not staying,” Kyle told him.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t stay here if you paid me,” Tess snapped. “So you guys can all get smashed or wasted or whatever, but we’re leaving. Now.” She gave Isabel a warning look.

“Hmm.” Josh stepped in front of Isabel, smirking, and stood face to face with Kyle. “So that’s your girl, huh?” he said, leering at Tess. “She’s got quite the mouth on her. Bet she puts it to good use, huh?”

Instinctively, feeling the need to defend his girlfriend, Kyle shot out both his hands and pushed Josh backward. Josh had gotten bigger than him, though, over the years, so he only stumbled.

“Whoa,” he said. “What the hell, man? You wanna fight?” He grinned. “My chance to take down the great Kyle Valenti. What do you wanna bet I kick your ass this time?” He shoved Kyle backward much in the same way, but Kyle was ready for it, so he was able to keep his balance.

No, he thought. I’m not doin’ this here. He wasn’t going to get into some stupid fight with some stupid guy. He had a future to think about. College, scholarships. It wasn’t worth the risk. “We’re leaving,” he told Isabel, leaving no room for debate. He turned to leave, and Tess once again stuck close beside him. Glancing back over his shoulder, he noticed Isabel slinking away from the losers who had been admiring her. Apparently they’d managed to talk some sense into her again.

When they got back out to the car, the smell of fresh air had never smelled so good. Kyle breathed in deeply, relieved to be out of there. Now he just wanted to get home, drop Isabel off, and get his own girlfriend settled down for the night. He could tell just by looking at Tess that she was still frazzled.

Okay, you’re officially crazy!” Tess yelled at Isabel. “Do you even know what could’ve happened tonight? Those guys were creeps!”

“They didn’t do anything to me,” Isabel roared back. “I didn’t do anything wrong! I had a couple shots.”

“Shots?” Tess echoed. “Since when do you do shots? What’s wrong with you?”

“Isabel . . .” Kyle jumped in, feeling the need to interject as a voice of reason. “It’s okay to party, but you gotta be safe. Anything could’ve happened.”

Isabel threw her hands down at her sides, looking more . . . annoyed than anything else. “Okay, fine, maybe I made a mistake,” she conceded. “But it was my mistake to make. You guys had no right to come here and get me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tess apologized sarcastically. “Next time you’re about to be gang-banged by a bunch of total drunken losers, I’ll just stand by and let it happen.” Crying again, she got into the passenger’s seat of Kyle’s vehicle.

“I didn’t mean . . .” Isabel stared at Kyle pleadingly as Tess slammed the door.

“Just get in the truck,” he told her, hoping that, by the time they got home, Isabel would think about this whole thing differently.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael was asleep when his cell phone rang. Or buzzed, technically. Even though he was usually a heavy sleeper, he heard it. He didn’t react to it right away, though, because part of him was hoping that whoever was calling would just give up. But it kept buzzing, annoying him, so he reached over and answered it. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.” He recognized Kyle’s voice instantly. “Can you come down and let me in? I don’t wanna wake everyone up.”

Michael squinted his eyes at the bright red numbers on his clock. What the hell was this? It was in the a.m. “Yeah, sure,” he agreed reluctantly, setting his phone down again. He looked down at Maria, who was curled up beside him, and carefully slid his arm out from underneath her. She stirred a bit but didn’t wake up as he got out of bed. Good.

He wasn’t at all expecting to sit down with Kyle and hear what he heard. But Kyle laid it all out there, the entire events of the evening, from Tess’s panicked phone call to the sleazy party that Michael was all too familiar with. It was so strange to fathom that Michael wasn’t sure he was hearing his friend right.

“This is Isabel Evans?” he asked, just to double check.

“Yeah, who else? You know a lot of Isabels?”

“Well . . . yeah, actually.” He knew a lot of girls. In general. “I’ve slept with a lot of chicks, man.”

“Okay, let’s not reminisce,” Kyle advised. “Look, the point is, she’s fine, I went and got her, but . . . it was weird, man.”

“Well, yeah, it doesn’t sound like her,” Michael agreed.

“It’s not. It’s not like her. At all. And Tess was so freaked out, she’s been cryin’ about it all night. And now she’s all worried Isabel’s mad at her and . . .”

“No, I think you guys did the right thing,” Michael assured him. “But I can’t believe Isabel would . . .” He trailed off, shuddering inwardly at the thought of the mess Isabel could have gotten into. And why? What the point of it, of any of it? She was a smart girl, so why would she do something so dumb?

“Something’s goin’ on with her right now, I think,” Kyle speculated. “I don’t know. I just thought . . .” He sighed heavily, tiredly. “I should tell you.”

“Yeah, but I don’t really think I can do anything about it. She’s not my girlfriend anymore. She can do whatever she wants.”

“Yeah, but you still care about her, right?” Kyle asked.

“Well, yeah, I’ll always care about her. She’s a good girl. I don’t wanna see her get hurt.”

“Okay, so maybe you could, like, say something to her,” Kyle suggested. “You know, just . . . I don’t know. It couldn’t hurt.”

Michael laughed cynically. That was where Kyle was wrong. It could hurt. Maybe not him, but her. “Kyle, I cheated on her twice,” he reminded his friend. “What the hell am I supposed to say?”

Kyle opened his mouth to offer up suggestions, but none came out. In the end, he made a face and shrugged helplessly.

Shit, Michael thought. He wasn’t good with words. Plus, he was so damn happy right now that it was hard for him to figure out what to say to someone who wasn’t.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Obligation. Michael felt it—a lot of it—as he knocked on Isabel’s front door the next day. Even though he didn’t want to be there, he felt like he had to be there, like he owed it to her to check in and see if she was okay. There had been a time when he’d only felt obligated to himself. Things were different now. He was different. And apparently, so was Isabel.

From the moment she opened the door, she looked like she wanted to punch him in the face. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” she grumbled, immediately trying to shut the door again.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said, outstretching his hand to keep it open. “I just wanted to talk.”

Glaring at him, she growled, “You never just wanna talk.”

He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if it had been a mistake to come here at all. Clearly she was angry. “I heard about last night,” he came right out and said.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. “So who told you, Tess or Kyle? Probably Kyle, right? Tess is still too mad at you to talk to you.”

“Yeah, he told me,” Michael admitted. “He’s worried about you.”

Isabel sighed heavily. “Everyone’s so concerned.”

“Should we be?”

We?” She laughed out loud. “Oh, priceless.”

“Come on, Isabel.”

“Okay, I’m gonna make this quick, because I gotta finish getting ready for church: I’m fine,” she summarized. “I wanted to go out and have some fun, and I did. No harm, no foul.”

“Since when do you find that kind of party fun?” he challenged. “And since when do you go off with guys you just met?”

“Michael, you’re really the wrong person to be lecturing me about wise choices and responsibility,” she warned. “I’m fine.

She didn’t seem fine, but he hoped that was just because she was upset. They hadn’t been apart for very long, so maybe . . . maybe it would pass, and given a little more time, she’d be back to her old self again. “Alright, if you say so,” he relented.

“Good.” She tried to shut the door again, but once again, he extended his hand and pushed it back open.

“I just want you to know . . . I’m here if you need me.” It almost felt wrong to say that, hypocritical or something. But he and Kyle had talked it through, and he really did intend to hold up to what he was saying. “I was actually kinda hoping we might be able to . . . I don’t know, be friends or somethin’.”

“Friends,” she echoed, her eyes locked onto his skeptically. “Are you kidding me?”

“No.” It was possible, wasn’t it? People broke up all the time, but that didn’t mean they had to be arch-enemies. It would have been easier if he hadn’t cheated on her. He knew that.

“Have you ever just been friends with a girl before?”

“Yeah.” He tried to think back and come up with a name, but unfortunately, the only real answer he had was, “Maria.”

“Oh, of course.” Isabel smiled angrily. “Before you started screwing.”

“She’s still my friend,” he insisted.

“With benefits.”

He shook his head, trying not to argue. But that wasn’t at all what he and Maria had, and Isabel probably knew that. “Never mind,” he dismissed. “Sorry I tried.” He turned and headed down the porch steps.

“No, Michael, wait,” she called, stopping him. “Come to think of it . . . you’re right.”

He frowned, not expecting even that much out of her.

“You were a good friend to Maria,” she conceded. “You let her live with you, when she was all alone. You gave her a bed to sleep in, when she needed one. You even became her son’s dad.” Narrowing her eyes, she ground out sarcastically, “What a great friend.”

Damn. She was actually making him feel guilty. He thought he’d gotten past that. But if she was looking for an apology or hoping that he’d say he made a big mistake with Maria . . . she wasn’t going to get it. Because he’d apologized already, and he hadn’t made a mistake. Not at all. Being with Maria was the best thing he’d ever done with his life.

“I don’t want anything to do with you,” she informed him, staring down at him like the Ice Queen in her palace. “I definitely don’t wanna be friends with you. I don’t trust you enough.” And with that, she did finally shut that door, and he heard it lock into place.

Oh, well, he thought. I tried. Really, there was nothing more he could do.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria invited her mom out to brunch that day, just to keep her mind off of Michael and Isabel. He’d told her why he was going over there, and she knew she had nothing to worry about. But still . . . no girl liked to think of her boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend spending any time together. So she figured her mom could be a distraction. Plus, they’d been getting along a little bit better lately, so she wanted to capitalize on it.

Amy suggested the Crashdown, but Maria was totally against that, so they went to a small café that specialized in a more home-cooked style of food. The conversation was stiff and awkward at times, but at least it wasn’t angry.

“This is nice,” her mom remarked halfway through the meal. “We should make a more regular thing of this. Maybe a weekly breakfast.”

Weekly? Maria thought. That was a little much. “Maybe,” she agreed, not wanting to dash her mom’s hopes completely. “Or maybe every other week.”

“You could bring Dylan next time. I miss the little guy.”

“I know.” The fact that her mom missed her grandson more than her own daughter had always been blatantly apparent, and she was embarrassed to realize that she was a little bit jealous of that.

“I’ve been so lonely ever since Jim . . .” Her mom trailed off, shaking her head sadly. “You know.”

“Yeah.” She knew all too well.

“I kind of got used to you two being around again.” Amy sighed wistfully.

“We only stayed for a few days.”

“I know, but . . . it was nice.”

Was it? Maria wondered. She and her mom had such a different perception of things. To her, those nights spent in her mom’s house had been torture, because every inch of her had been yearning to be near Michael.

“So have you officially moved back in with the Guerins now?” her mother inquired.

She nodded, pushing the remainder of her scrambled eggs around on her plate. “Yeah.”

“And they’re okay with that?”

She shrugged. “Haven’t heard any complaints.” Except from Andy, of course, but that didn’t count. He was always complaining.

“And . . . you and Michael?” Amy prodded. “Are the two of you . . . an item now?”

Maria couldn’t help but laugh inwardly. An item. Even though her mom was pretty young herself, that was such an old-fashioned way to put it. “Yeah, we’re together.”

“So he’s your boyfriend?”

“Yep.” She loved being able to call him that.

“And you’re his girlfriend?”

Yes.” What further clarification did the woman need?

“Hmm.” Amy stared down at her still nearly-full plate, looking like she was more interested in questioning Maria than she was in the food in front of her. “And are his parents okay with that?”

Oh, clearly she doesn’t know Michael, Maria thought. If she did, she would have known that his parents’ approval had absolutely no effect on his actions. “I don’t know if they actually know about it,” she admitted.

“What about that girlfriend of his?”

“Ex-girlfriend,” she corrected. “She knows.”

“Good.” Amy took another bite of her omelet, wrinkling her face as if it tasted bad. “So I have to ask . . .” she started slowly, “are you sleeping with him?”

“Mom!” she hissed, looking around, hoping no one had overheard.

“Well . . .”

She sighed, figuring it was too obvious to hide at this point. “I’m an adult.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“That’s a let’s-stop-talking-about-this, because you’re my mom and it’s weird.”

“Are you being safe?” Amy kept on.

“Of course.”

“Well, given your history, you can’t blame me for asking.”

Maria rolled her eyes. Yeah, like she was just going to allow herself to get pregnant again. She wasn’t one of the messed up teen moms on MTV who wanted to have four kids and three divorces under her belt before her twenty-first birthday.

Her mother narrowed her eyes at her skeptically and asked, “Every time?”

“What?”

“Are you being safe every single time?”

“Yes.” She thought back to that first time, though, bent over the table in the Crashdown, the rushed frenzy of it all, and hoped her mom could not tell that she was lying.

Amy nodded, processing it all. “Okay,” she said, sounding surprisingly calm. “That’s all I need to know.”

That’s not what you need to know; it’s what you want to know, Maria thought. Her mom desperately wanted to feel involved, to feel like she still had a place in her life. But it was a limited place at best, and Maria didn’t see anything changing that anytime soon. Especially since Michael would be going off to college, and she had every intention of going with him now that things were . . . different.

But at least she and her mom were able to have this, this simple breakfast. It was better than nothing. It would never be great, because her mom would probably never truly be happy for her or proud of her. But at least, for now, she wasn’t disappointed in her, either. That had to count for something.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Confronting Tess at school on Monday was awkward for Isabel. Having had a Sunday to wind down and really take in just how stupid her actions had been, she felt compelled to apologize for being such a bitch. Or at least to thank her friend for being there for her. But neither one quite seemed like enough.

She met up with Tess in the juniors hallway at her locker, and a peculiar silence hovered about them until Isabel broke it. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” Tess echoed unsurely. “How are you?”

Isabel exhaled shakily. “Better now, I think.”

“You think?” Tess echoed.

She nodded confidently. “I’m better. Saturday was . . .” She shuddered, trying to push it out of her mind. “I don’t know what it was. It was a really stupid decision. I get it. I don’t even know why I . . .” She trailed off, feeling uncomfortable talking about it. She wasn’t used to messing up. On anything.

“It’s okay,” Tess assured her quietly. “I mean, yeah, it really freaked me out, but you’re going through something right now, and I shouldn’t judge.”

“No, judge all you want,” Isabel urged her. “You probably kept me from making a huge mistake.”

Tess shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t have . . .”

“Tess . . .” She really didn’t even like to think about what she would have done if her friends hadn’t shown up when they did. Part of her had been so determined to have a good time that she hadn’t even realized she wasn’t having that good of a time at all.

God, she wasn’t used to feeling so confused.

“I’m just glad nothing happened,” Tess said.

“I’m glad you were there to help.” Isabel smiled at her softly. “Thank you.”

Tears sprung to the corners of Tess’s eyes for a moment, evidence of how truly scary the whole ordeal had been for her. “I’m your best friend. It’s sorta my job.”

But it isn’t, Isabel thought. Is it? Tess was a year younger than her. She was supposed to be more immature and more dysfunctional. Yet she was the one who would probably have an engagement ring on her finger by the end of the year, she was the one in a stable relationship, and she was the one who wasn’t attending crazy parties with random guys.

“I’ll see you later then,” Isabel said, giving her a little wave.

“Bye.”

Clutching her physics book to her chest, she wished it were so easy to patch things up with Michael. But their relationship, if it could even be called that, was far too broken to ever fix.

When she rounded the corner and walked out into the cafeteria, where everyone was assembled to hang out and await the morning bell, she felt immediately that something was off. It seemed like everyone was looking at her, whispering things. It wasn’t paranoia; it was truly different than it usually was.

Even someone without a 4.0 GPA could have figured out what they were all talking about.

Embarrassed, she grabbed Kyle as he walked past and demanded, “Who all did you tell about Saturday?” Or maybe Michael had told someone. That seemed much more likely.

“Just Michael,” he replied.

“Then why is everyone talking about it?” She could hear laughter, mocking laughter that wasn’t at all trying to be subtle, and she could hear labels she’d never had to deal with before. Slut. Whore. No. That wasn’t her. She was the class president, the soon-to-be valedictorian. She’d just made a mistake.

“Isabel, there were a lot of students at that game,” Kyle reminded her. “If Tess saw you leave with those guys, I’m sure she wasn’t the only one.” He shrugged semi-sympathetically, then continued on his way. Even though he could have put a stop to it. Even though he was so universally well-liked that all he would have had to do was tell everyone to stop talking about it, and they would have.

Feeling the heat of the student body’s questioning gazes, listening to the stinging sound of their wildfire gossip, she tried to be tough, look strong, act like it didn’t affect her. But truthfully, she hated to think that she’d done something to tarnish her reputation. After all, in a small school like theirs, your reputation was basically all you had.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sneaking out of school had never been particularly difficult, but it was even easier now than it had been at the beginning of the year. Maybe the teachers just didn’t give a shit anymore.

Michael was all too eager to meet up with his girl after getting a text message from her during fourth period. She was at the Crashdown and said she was bored, so he ordered something to be delivered for lunch. Best of both worlds that way. He got to see her, and she got to see something other than the fading alien murals on those same restaurant walls.

“Special delivery,” she greeted flirtatiously, holding out the sack with his food in it.

He grinned, closing the distance between the two of them. As he swept her up into his arms and kissed her, she dropped the sack, gasping. Oh god, he loved that he could make her gasp.

Spinning them around, he pressed her back against the building, covering her smaller body with his larger one as he continued to assault her with kisses. He would have done anything to have her there with him, every day. To be able to slip away any time, just steal a moment. Steal a lot of moments, actually. That would have been nice. But then again, if she were a part of that school . . . he’d definitely be failing all his classes, because he’d be so . . . busy.

He traced his hands up and down her sides, sides that were covered by that ridiculous teal-blue uniform. Her alien antennae headband bobbed as she made out with him, and he wondered what they would look like to someone just driving by. The two of them, slipping away behind the school, back by the parking lot, desperate to get their hands on each other. Her, all intergalactic, and him, totally into it regardless of what she was wearing. He didn’t want to stop kissing her.

“I’m not sure this the best place for this,” she moaned, stretching her head to the side.

Sucking on the smooth skin of her neck, he mumbled, “I can’t wait.” He had no intention of getting it on with her right here, right now, like this, because she deserved better; but still . . . it was fun to pretend.

“You’re gonna have to,” she told him, holding on tightly to his shoulders as he bent down a bit to rub his entire body against hers. “I have to be back at work in ten minutes, and you have to be back in class.”

“Screw class,” he declared flippantly. This was better.

“No,” she chastised. “It’s important.”

“No, it’s not,” he insisted.

“Go to class,” she told him, staring at him sultrily, with the same bedroom eyes she had when she straddled him. “Don’t screw class. And then tonight . . .” She trailed off, licking her lower lip seductively.

“I can screw you?” he asked hopefully.

“Play your cards right.” She hooked her fingers into his belt loops and pulled him even closer. Good God, having her hands down there made him feel like he was losing his mind, even though she wasn’t even touching him.

He just had to kiss her again.

When he got back to lunch, all he had was a barely-concealed hard-on and a flattened hamburger. They’d accidentally stepped on it in the midst of their make-out. Didn’t matter, though. Her lips had tasted better than any fast food ever would.

As he approached his lunch table, a few guys, mostly football players, walked by him and said things like, “Way to go, man,” and “Nice, Guerin.” He didn’t quite understand what they were talking about until he sat down next to Kyle and asked, “What’re they talkin’ about?”

Kyle handed him his phone, showing him a picture that must have been posted to Twitter a matter of minutes ago. Because there were himself and Maria, looking pretty damn hot and heavy against the side of the building. It looked like someone had snapped it from the parking lot.

#Nooner, it said below it.

Michael made a face. What the hell? They were just kissing; they weren’t fucking. That was gonna be later. “Who posted that?” he asked.

Kyle put his phone away and revealed, “Ryan.”

Michael rolled his eyes. Of course. Guy had nothing better to do with his life.

“Yeah, he pretty much just sent it out to everyone he’s ever met.”

Michael’s stomach tensed. “Everyone?”

Kyle nodded as the bell rang.

Quickly glancing over at the cheerleaders’ usual table, Michael watched as Isabel scampered away with Tess close at her side. She was trying not to make it noticeable, but he noticed. He noticed her wiping away tears as she headed off to class.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So what, we’re, like, Internet porn?”

Michael laughed a little at Maria’s summation of their Twitter scandal. “Not porn. Just a picture of us . . . pounding out a nooner.” He shrugged nonchalantly and set the last of the dishes on the drying rack.

“We were not pounding out a nooner,” she reminded him, hitting him playfully with the dishtowel.

“Yeah, but that’s what everyone thinks we were doing. And let ‘em think that. It’s good for my reputation.” He grinned mischievously. But seriously, it kind of was. He didn’t want people to think he’d lost his edge, his appeal.

She rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Oh, well. We were photographed making out. I guess we could’ve been photographed doing a whole lot worse.”

“Hell, I’ve been photographed doing a lot worse,” he informed her. Once, even, with an engaged college girl. Oops.

She folded the dishtowel and hung it on the oven handle. “It’s weird, though, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Just . . . high school. I can’t decide whether those people really have nothing better to do with their lives or if they’re actually truly that interested in what’re you’re doing. Or . . . who you’re doing, as the case may be.”

He shrugged, not giving much thought to it. He was used to being high profile. Small schools worked that way. “I’m pretty popular. Snowball king, remember?”

“Yes, I remember.” She leaned against the counter, stuffing her hands in the front pockets of her jeans. “I was never that popular. Most of the time, people didn’t even notice me.”

He shook his head, not understanding that. “How could they not notice you? Look at you.” He steadily closed the gap between them, reaching out to put his hands on her hips.

“Well, I’m not saying I’m ugly or anything, but it’s not like I’m . . . Isabel Evans.”

“No.” He traced his hands up her sides, stopping when he felt her bra beneath her shirt. “You’re a lot more.” He bent his head and found her lips, kissing her more softly than he had outside the school today. The same passion was still there, of course, but the rush was gone from it. They had an entire evening ahead of them, and since they were technically roommates, they could spend every minute of it together, doing whatever they wanted.

The best part about kissing Maria was the way her entire body pressed up into his when he did so. She probably didn’t even realize did that, just did it on instinct. He loved that she moved forward enough so that he could reach around and cup her backside, squeezing gently.

“Mmm,” she moaned between kisses. “We really shouldn’t do this here.”

“Why not?” he challenged, hoisting her up onto the counter. She didn’t appear to have much resolve as she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He kept kissing her—her mouth, her cheek, her neck—totally zoning in on her when she suddenly gasped and slammed her hands against his chest, pushing him back.

“Shit!” she swore, sliding off the counter, looking off to the side.

Reluctantly, he followed her gaze. His mom was standing there with a sack of groceries in her arms, probably having seen more than enough to know what was going on.

“That’s why not,” Maria mumbled, hanging her head.

“Mom,” Michael greeted unsurely. He wasn’t really embarrassed, because over the years, his mom had caught him doing a lot more than just kissing a girl; still, no matter how many times it happened, it was always awkward.

She cleared her throat, looked down at the floor, then back up at them. “Hi,” she managed.

“Hey,” he returned.

“You wanna help me put this stuff away?” she asked, setting the grocery bag down on the middle counter.

“Sure,” he agreed. “We were just doin’ the dishes. Just now.”

“We got done with them,” Maria added.

“Yeah. See?” He motioned to the drying rack. It was pathetic attempt at making themselves seem productive. In a way, the only embarrassing part was that he was so bad at trying to cover up what had to be obvious.

“That’s good,” his mom said, opening the refrigerator. She kept it propped open with her foot and reached back over the counter to grab a carton of eggs from the top of the sack. She started placing them in a little holder on the inside of the door, then cleared her throat again and asked, “Maria, can I talk to my son alone for a minute?”

Oh, great, he thought, feeling consumed by dread. This was going to be the birds-and-the-bees talk, wasn’t it? He’d successfully avoided it for eighteen years, mostly because he’d just started having sex so early on in life that his mom hadn’t gotten around to it. But now she was going to backtrack, tell him all sorts of stuff he already knew.

“Sure,” Maria said, stumbling over her own feet as she backed away. “I’ll just . . .” She motioned behind herself, then slipped away.

Michael put both hands on his hips, deciding it was best to squash the conversation before it got a chance to start. “Alright, spare me the lecture. We’re using condoms. We’re bein’ safe.”

“Condoms,” she echoed.

“Yeah, and she’s on the pill.” What else could you do, really? Besides abstinence, which just wasn’t an option for him.

His mom nodded, looking like she was moving in slow motion as she placed the last egg in its holder. “So you two are officially sleeping together now.”

“Yeah.” Probably best to just be honest about it.

She kept nodding, closing the refrigerator door slowly. “Can’t say I didn’t see this coming.”

“Was it obvious?”

His mom actually smiled a bit. “I’m willing to bet you’ve had feelings for her for quite some time now.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Probably even longer than I know.”

“Probably,” she agreed, looking him up and down for a moment. Then her smile actually grew, and she said, “Believe it or not, I’m happy for you.”

That came as a relief. But then again, why wouldn’t she be? “I’m in love with her, Mom,” he blurted.

His mother inhaled sharply.

“I know, it’s crazy to hear me say that, but I am. I’m, like . . . totally in love with her.”

For an instant, it looked like tears stung her eyes. “Oh, honey . . .” She came towards him and reached up to touch his cheek. “You’re growing up.”

He really was, wasn’t he? He hadn’t thought about it, but being with Maria . . . it made him feel different. On the inside, as a person. It wasn’t just love. It was like . . . like he was a man when he was with her. And maybe a decent one at that.

“But I need you to remember . . . it’s not all grown-ups here,” she cautioned.

“I know. Dylan and Tina.”

“Your sister is . . . young and impressionable, Michael. And she idolizes you. I have to think about her in all of this. Okay?”

He nodded, not quite sure what she was saying.

“So whatever you and Maria are doing . . . I don’t wanna see it, and I don’t wanna hear it. I don’t even wanna know it’s going on.”

“Yeah, sure.” He could do that. Unless . . . “Wait, are you just talkin’ about sex or, like, all the couple stuff?”

“Sex, Michael.”

“Oh. Okay.” Yeah, he could keep that on the down-low. Hopefully she wouldn’t see the #Nooner picture.

“I mean, it’s bad enough that I know it’s going on beneath my roof, but . . . I don’t wanna know, you know?”

“Yeah.” It made sense. He got it.

“Don’t wanna know what?” his father’s gruff voice suddenly grumbled.

Michael turned around, surprised to see his dad standing just a few feet away. He hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Oh, just . . . nothing,” his mom sputtered. “How was work?”

He stared at her for a few seconds, almost as if he was angry at her for even asking the question. “I got fired.”

“What?” his mom gasped in disbelief.

Here we go, Michael thought warily. Hopefully they had enough booze on hand to cover this binge; otherwise he’d be headed out to the bar, and they might never hear from him again.

“Almost two decades of work, and they can me, just like that.” His dad grunted, sounding remarkably flat and emotionless about it. “Guess I must’ve shown up to work late or drunk or both one too many times, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Michael agreed, finding it hard to feel any sympathy. What did it matter anyway? His dad had always hated working construction. Now he could do something new, maybe something he’d like better.

Or maybe not. Maybe there wasn’t anything he liked anymore. Professional alcoholic wasn’t actually a job.

“Well . . . maybe they’ll change their minds,” his mom said, attempting to be optimistic. She tried to hug her husband, but he just shrugged her off like she was nothing more than an annoying fly.

“Not gonna happen,” he muttered. “To hell with it anyway. I don’t give a damn.”

No, you don’t, Michael thought. Had he ever?

“So what’d I walk in on?” his dad asked, diverting the topic away from himself. “Feels like I interrupted something.”

Michael locked eyes with his mom momentarily, urging her to be the one to answer.

“No, you didn’t,” she assured him. “I was just asking Michael how school was today.”

“Oh, yeah?” His dad stared at him almost challengingly. “And how was it?” Almost as if he was daring him to admit he’d had a great day.

“It was fine,” he downplayed.

“You learn anything?”

Yeah, he thought, that you’re an ass. But then again, he’d already known that. “Not really,” he replied.

His dad grunted, making a face. “Of course not.” He pushed past the wife he wouldn’t allow to comfort him and headed upstairs, his footsteps resounding as he went.

Michael frowned, wondering if it was wrong for him to be glad his own father had gotten fired. Logically, he knew that meant money would be tight until he found another job—if he found another job. But still . . . he couldn’t help but feel like his dad deserved it. The reason why he felt so crappy and pissed off and miserable all the time . . . was because he didn’t deserve to feel better.

I feel better, he thought. So that had to mean he was better. Right?

“Oh, goodness,” his mother exhaled shakily, bracing herself against the counter.

This was the part that sucked, though, seeing how that jackass’s situation affected her, too. “Why didn’t you tell him about me and Maria?” he asked.

“It’s just really not the best time.”

“Why?” Was lying to him the comfy alternative to the truth now?

“Because he just got fired.”

“Yeah, so?” He’d hated that job anyway.

“I just . . .” She looked at him apologetically. “I don’t know how he’s gonna react.”

Well, that pretty much spelled it out then, didn’t it? Michael nodded solemnly, accepting the fact that his dad would not be happy for him the way his mom was. In fact, it was very likely that he might be furious. Or disappointed. Or maybe even a little bit jealous.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lying next to Maria, falling asleep with her in his arms, was something Michael would never get tired of. The days of that stupid wall of pillows were thankfully long gone, and she willingly cuddled up against him now, using his chest as a pillow. She draped her limbs over him, and Michael predicted she’d be fully on top of him come morning. But she was so lightweight and her skin was so soft to the touch that he just couldn’t bring himself to move. He didn’t want to.

Even though sleep was tugging at him, he had a lot of thoughts and questions racing through his mind, one in particular. All night, ever since his dad had come home, he kept thinking about how badly he didn’t want to be the guy who came home from the crappy, dead-end job eighteen years from now, complaining about how he’d gotten fired and then just accepting it. And he had options, things he could do to assure he wouldn’t be that guy.

“Maria,” he said quietly, hoping she hadn’t completely nodded off yet. She hadn’t moved or said anything for a while, though. “Maria, are you awake?”

She shifted ever so slightly, moaning contentedly. “Mmm.”

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t one of her awake sounds. “Baby, wake up,” he murmured against her forehead. “Please.” He hated to do it, but since she didn’t move, he had to lift her off of him a bit and gently shake her shoulders. “Hey, I gotta ask you something.”

“I’m tired,” she purred, her eyes still closed.

“I know. Sorry.” He wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep until he got some stuff out in the open, though. “Will you look at me?”

It seemed to take a great deal of effort, but at last, she opened her tired eyes. Just barely at first, but the longer she looked at him, the wider they opened, and she started to smile.

Who knew? he thought. I can make someone smile just by . . . existing. He wasn’t doing anything particularly amazing lying there, but she looked as happy to be there as he was.

“You love me, right?” he asked.

“Of course.” She started to curl up close to him again. “That’s not even a question.”

“Hey, hey, hey . . .” He held her back a bit, just so he could look at her when he asked the question that was really on his mind. “I was wondering . . . since you love me, do you maybe wanna go somewhere with me?”

“Where?” she asked.

“Maybe . . . Alabama?”

With that, she looked completely awake and with it again. She must have understood right away what he was asking, but he clarified it anyway.

“College, in Alabama.”

Maybe it was just the moonlight coming in the window, but her eyes looked like they were sparkling.

“I know I told you once that I want you to go with me, but now that we . . .” He trailed off, feeling unusually nervous, like a kid asking for a prom date or something. “Now I really want you to go with me. You and Dylan.”

“Yeah, we’re sort of a package deal.”

“That’s okay with me.” Honestly, the fact that Maria was a mom . . . it didn’t turn him off or make him shy away at all. It never had, because it was just part of who she was. One of the best parts. “I really wanna go to Alabama, try to play football there. But I don’t wanna go without you, so . . .” Maybe it wasn’t healthy or natural to be so invested in one person, but if she wasn’t going, he wasn’t going. It was as simple as that.

“Michael . . .” She reached out and stroked his cheek, the simple touch driving him wild. “I’d go anywhere with you.”

Relief flooded him. He’d pretty much assumed that she would agree to it, but not knowing had been a killer. “So you’ll go?”

“Yeah, I’ll go.”

Thank God, was all he could think. Oh, thank God. Somehow, some way, this was all happening. Maybe it was meant to. At the beginning of the school year, he would have never seen it coming, but now . . . it was all he could see.

“Come here,” he said, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her body up onto his. He kissed her exaggeratedly and proclaimed, “We’re goin’ to college.”

“Well . . . you are,” she corrected, drumming her fingers atop his chest. “Dylan and I are just tagging along.”

It didn’t matter, though, did it? It didn’t matter how or why they got there. All that mattered was that they would all be together. That was the only thing he cared about.








TBC . . .

-April
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LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
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