Everytime (American Horror AU 5)

Chapter 6

NOTE: Contains mature content. Discretion is advised!

Michael had definitely been taken by surprise by the sight of Amy, but it was no surprise to him that she displayed extreme natural beauty even under the mask of makeup she had applied. Amy had opted for a light smoky eye with soot black and violet, which perfectly outlined the shape of her intensely-colored almond eyes. Her eyelashes were full and black, mascara combed neatly so that they fanned out gracefully. Amy applied tinted lip balm to give her lips a rose tinge. Her long, golden curls were brushed and neatened, and her outfit consisted of a strapless body-con dress that was hot pink with the sides adorned with black lace. At the waist, the dress was cinched by a faux belt that crossed like a X and was stitched where it zipped up. Michael was speechless upon seeing her, and when they left the house, they walked to his house next door and stepped into the car; he even held open the door for her.

She had not thanked him—I don't want to be thanked, he thought as he walked to the other side into the driver's seat. Just before sticking the key into the ignition, Amy's voice stopped him.

"Where are we going?" she questioned.

"Wherever you want," Michael said; he took a few glances downwards, alternating between her intense, cool eyes and her heaving bustiness at the top of her sweetheart neckline.

"Hm, did you forget that I was new to town?" Amy sneered.

"I know you are," he replied, taking in her image and ingraining it in his mind as his heart raced. "Want to get food? Get a drink? Go for a ride?"

All depends on what by you mean by a ride, she thought—suddenly, his eyes widened, a sparkle in their clear, olive-green color as he chuckled.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Eighteen," Amy said.

"Sure you're not lying just to get somewhere with me?" he joked.

"C'mon, what makes you think that?" she asked.

"I was joking," he said, turning the key and fixing the gear to back out. "Let's go somewhere nice."

The drive to the heart of San Francisco was less than twenty minutes, and the two participated in small talk before reaching their destination—a small restaurant with good food at reasonable prices. Once they came in, a host sat them to a double-seated booth, where Michael saw the top of Amy's dress nearly come down under the weight of her ample bosom; she fixed it subtly, and they were given menus and drinks—Michael had paid for both of them to get beer, and Amy still had her fake ID from San Francisco. Once she showed it to the waiter, the young man just shook his head and looked down at the table—once they received their beers, Amy took the bottle and drank a sip from it.

"You like beer?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's okay," she replied.

"So why'd you move?" Michael asked.

"My sister goes to school here," Amy said.

"College?"

"Yeah."

"But what about you?" Michael questioned, sipping his beer in a generous gulp. "Do you go to school?"

"Hell no," Amy snickered. "I graduated this year."

"I was good in school," Michael said, leaning back in his seat as the waiter brought them menus. Amy looked down and flipped the cover as she kept it flat on the table. "You?"

"Huh?" Her eyes looked down at the list of appetizers and pictures of gourmet dishes shown on the inside of the glossy double-panel menu.

"How were you in school?" he asked.