Don't Walk Away (A Michael Jackson Love Story)

Chapter 4: Check Out

Michael's eyes met mine. He broke into another grin. "I missed you so much."

"I said we needed to take it slow. I'm gonna ruin it again," I cried. My bottom lip trembled.

"It was never your fault," he insisted. He kissed my forehead. "We definitely needed a break. But we're better now, right?"

"What if it doesn't work?" I rasped. I pushed Mike off me. He fell back into the blankets beside me.

"I won't let it get that bad again," he vowed.

"What did you ever do with that ring?" I asked.

"I took it back like you said." He pointed to the nightstand. That familiar velvet box sat there. "I had it with me every day, hoping that you would come back."

"Didn't you date anyone else?"

"Brooke Shields and I went out a couple times. I don't really go out much anymore. What about you?"

"I wouldn't call it 'dating'. But I went out with a few guys. And then usually went back to their rooms and...yeah." I blushed and scratched the back of my head. "I might've slept with Prince a couple times when I worked with him."

"Prince? I'm pretty sure he's supposed to be my enemy," Michael chuckled.

"Well he was pretty good in bed," I said quickly. I stood up. "Mind if I go take a shower?"

"If you wanna clean up your vomit, sure."

"Crap. Never mind," I sighed. I noticed his eyes looking me up and down. "You done checking me out?" I teased.

"Nope," he replied. I wasn't sure if he was serious. He walked over to me. "I especially missed your body..." His hands rested on my hips and he pulled me so I was pressed against him again.

I got self-conscious with his gaze on me. "I think I'm gonna shower in my room," I said. "It's on the next floor down."

"Can I come?" Mike asked. He put pants on, not bothering with a shirt.

"You can't join me in the shower. But sure."

He gave me the puppy-dog eyes. I pushed him away from me. "Nope. It's not gonna work," I insisted, partially telling myself.

"Okay, let's go," Michael sighed. He put his hand on the small of my back to guide me out the door. My skin tingled at his touch.

In the elevator, he continued to have a hand on me like his life depended on it. I brushed it away. "I just want to it to be like you never left," he muttered, half to himself.

"Well you ruined that," I snapped without thinking.

Mike's eyes got a little teary. He clenched his jaw and and stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking at the ceiling.

"Sorry," I attempted weakly. He shook his head.

The elevator doors slid open. I hurried down the hall with Michael to my room before someone noticed who I was with.

I locked the door behind me. Mike milled around aimlessly while I ran to the shower. I took my time. He could afford to wait a little.

I stepped out and wrapped a towel around myself. Michael was instantly next to me, his hands about to pull the towel off.

My eyes met his. "No." I hissed out the word, as if scolding a dog.

He backed off. "You're just so beautiful when you get out of the shower," he explained.

"This is hard for me too," I said. I patted his chest. "Maybe later."

Mike looked excited. He rolled my luggage over to me. "I packed everything when you were in the shower."

I stepped over the nightstand, yanking a drawer open. He even remembered my birth control pills, because they weren't there anymore.

"Yeah, I got those," his voice said from behind me. He wheeled my bags out the door. Taking one last sweeping glance of the room, I closed the door and followed him.

"What are we doing with the room? I may be successful, but I'm definitely not filthy rich." I jogged after Michael.

"I already checked you out." He cleared his throat and pressed the button in the elevator for the top floor repeatedly.

"With whose permission?"

"Mine. You're not very secure for a 'celebrity'," he poked. The doors opened. Mike walked briskly over to his door. He turned the key in the lock, kicking the door open.

I rolled my eyes. "Celebrity? I never said I was a celebrity."

"It sure seemed like you thought you were last night," he grumbled as he set my luggage down.

"How the fuck do you even remember last night? You could barely stand!" I snapped.

"Don't you swear to me!" Michael commanded.

"You sound drunk. You always become such a controlling asshole when you're drunk."

"I'm sober. I don't know why I still am at this point, but I am." His eyes were like daggers.

"Fine! Go get wasted so you can stumble back up here and find something that displeases you. And then you can bruise my fucking arm a little more!" My voice had risen to a loud screech.

"Stop! I'm not going to do that," he promised in a kinder voice. "I don't want to lose you."

"You gonna fuck me now?" I retorted, referring to what usually happens when Michael gets drunk.

"I'm gonna make love to you."

And suddenly I was on top of him.

(So sorry this took so long, everyone. I've been really busy in the past couple weeks.)