to love or lust [mike schmidt AU]

x.

x.

[date]

i don't wanna say
it's scripted whether you are
or ain't with this
i know what i need

scripted — ZAYN

| "Fine, I'm here for a bet." |

MIKE.

It's 8 o' clock sharp, when I'm in front of Sol's door, dressed in a white t-shirt and black jeans, ready for a date that I couldn't care less for. I knock once, twice, three times, and cross my arms, wondering what the fuck I've gotten myself into.

The guys know what's going on between Sol and I. They think I've finally hit the jackpot—getting through to Sol that is, and coming close to fucking her. I've tried numerous times, telling them I'd rather cut my losses here, and move on, and yet they always come up with a good enough reason to make me stay. Am I going to let Sol win, knowing that I know that she knows about my bet with the guys? Hell no. But I've only fucked myself over, which is the only type of fucking I'll ever get from Sol.

In the past week, I've had to endure a severe invasion of my privacy.

At first, I thought Sol's bullshit conditions were solely named to scare me away. I thought she was bluffing, because, who in their right mind, trying to date someone, would ask of their potential partner to completely give up their dating lives so soon; it's controlling and possessive. This may not be unheard of—Sol's boundaries—but I know this is her nearly successful attempts at making me back out of this.

So I've tried to break her rules to test whether or not she means what she says.

Starting the week off strong, I attempted to hide two hookups while Sol was off at work. The second Sol left her apartment, was when I called a girl over. The first girl came over, ready to hook up with me, then go on about her life without so much as a second thought about me. It was easy, quick, too, and she managed to leave my apartment just before Sol came up the stairs of our complex. Although I hadn't let Sol's conditions rule over what I can and can not do, that night, seeing Sol walk up the stairs, her narrowed gaze and scowl, only a minute after I saw my hook up out, I felt a bit of a panic. I was alarmed, hoping Sol wouldn't put two and two together as the smart girl she is. I wondered at that moment, when Sol met my eyes, if she knew, if she saw my sex-disheveled state... she didn't. It was a success.

The second girl I tried—and failed—to fuck, however, I wasn't so lucky as the first time. Like an idiot, I had been caught.

You'd think I was such a rookie.

I knew Sol left for work, every night without fail, at around seven o' clock. She wouldn't be home until four in the morning. But I was wrong. The thought hadn't occurred to me, that maybe, Sol wasn't going to be at work, and she was going to call off—it's rare, yes, but clearly something I hadn't accounted for when I was shirtless, breathless, having a girl pinned underneath me on the couch, and when someone barged in on me, screaming in Spanish, I all but rolled off of the girl I was trying to hook up with as if my mother had caught me in high school.

I fell in an embarrassing heap onto my hardwood floor, while the girl I had on my couch had been scrambling around looking for her bra. It was hard to process just what the fuck was going on, because one moment, I was getting ready to unzip my pants, then, the next, I was on the floor. Shock was my initial reaction, taking in the fact that Sol was standing in the middle of my apartment, screaming at my hook-up, and then letting me have it. My hookup didn't even bother with Sol, because, in truth, Sol is one scary woman when she's screaming at you. I'd had a glimpse at how angry and scary she could sound when she fought with Rauw that one night, but she had been frightened by her ex-boyfriend; now, though, she's not the slightest scared. Her temper-flared voice had sobered my dirty mind for a few moments.