Fly Away

10 - it seems you got lost

Song: Brent Faiyaz - Rollong Stone (slowed and reverb)

Mia

When we get home, all I can think about is sleep. I'm sure I could knock out on any surface if I really wanted to, but instead I walk upstairs to my room, falling backwards on the bed, fully clothed.

I'll change in a minute.

I force my mind to recall the events of the evening.

Rocco's father, his creepy smile, Gianna crying, me feeling nervous and tense and like my life can't possibly get any worse, the ride to McDonalds, Rocco's knee against mine causing random tingly sensations to fire up throughout my whole body, him listening to me talk.

He listened to me talk, and didn't tell me to shut up or stop being useless.

My heart flutters at the thought, and then it conjures images of his hair, the dark strands falling onto his forehead, his tired eyes, the hazel glowing in the light, his hands, the tattoo's, printed pictures of something deeper that I have yet to understand, his warm hands against my body.

That's what finally knocks me out.

-------------------

I hear a tweet, and a cool breeze washes over my face, streaks of warmth splashing onto the skin of my arms and hands.

I slowly open my eyes and stare up at the white ceiling, then look down at myself, tucked away in the dark grey blankets, my boots somehow miraculously off, and then I look to the window which is open slightly, letting in fresh morning air.

Wait, dark grey? I remember having white sheets.

Maybe I'm just delusional from sleep at the moment.

I soak up the smell of the dewy air and rub at my eyes.

Shit, I forgot to take off my makeup yesterday night.

In fact, I forgot to do a lot of things, I hardly even knew where I was walking. I imagine it's what jet lag feels like, even though I've never been on a plane before, and I didn't even travel far from my old house to the penthouse.

I rub my legs in the blanket, stretching out, and roll over onto my face, my nose hitting something hard.

And muscly.

I sit up straight in bed, my eyes widening at the sleeping form next to me.

Rocco is not, and I repeat not wearing a shirt right now, and that's not good for my morning eyes and lack of male touch because I could easily just do something I know I would regret later.

I have to actually sit on my hands to stop them from chasing the tattoo's that cover most of his body. There are random little symbols and words, the letter D inscribed in such a tiny font, just where the place his heart is.

He stirs, and slowly opens his eyes. The fact that he saw my face as soon as he woke up, probably streaked with eyeliner and mascara, is probably why he nearly rolls out of the bed.

Or the fact that I push him.

Either way, he doesn't fall, because he just has to be so strong and stupidly muscly.

"The fuck?"

Someone pull me out of heaven-

His voice is groggy and rough as he speaks, and I almost kick him off the bed again because of how good his morning voice sounds.

It shouldn't be possible to sound that good when you've just woken up, but of course, perfect-man-lying-in-bed can make it possible.

"Why am I here?" He seems amused as he raises one eyebrow at me, his head falling back into the pillows again.