'Come in" Michael says, opening the door.
"Are you hungry, I can cook you some food?" he asks, heading toward the kitchen.
"Actually I'm pretty tired" I say, telling him the truth.
"Ok, you can sleep in my room" he says, heading that way. As I walk into his bedroom he is frantically trying to neaten up the bed.
"Mike, it's okay, I'm just going to mess it up again anyway" I say, laughing at him.
He chuckles. "Okay, well the bathrooms that way, and here are some clothes for you to wear" he says, placing a plain black t-shirt on the bed.
"Goodnight Marns" he says.
"Wait, you're not sleeping in here too?" I ask, immediately regretting it.
"Um" he thinks about it for a second.
"I don't think that's a good idea. I'll see you in the morning", he says, closing the door behind him.
And then I am alone once again. Just another guy to leave me. I pick up the clothes and change into them, the smell of Mike embracing my body and calming my senses. I pad into the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water. I look around the small rest room. Memories of my nightmare surface. I place my hand where I saw the pregnancy test sitting. Why would I dream something like that? I make my way back into the bedroom, and snuggle myself into Mikes bed. I imagine him asleep here, his back pressed against this same piece of blanket. With the smell and the thoughts of Michael overwhelming me, I drift into sleep.
**
"Do you, Michael Clifford, take Imani Smith to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do" he says.
Im in a church, wearing a white gown. And he is here. Wearing a black tux.
"you may now kiss the bride" the preist says.
And I scream.
**
"Imani, wake up" I hear him say. His hands are on my shoulders, and the warmth is back.
"What happened Marns? You were screaming" he says, concern thick in his voice.
"I just... I don't know" I say. Why the hell was I dreaming something like that?
"Your sweating, I'll go get you a glass of water, I'll be back" he says making his way to the kitchen.
I'm breathing heavy and my hands are shaking, and my mind is going at 100 miles an hour. When he comes back he hands me a glass of water, and sits back down on the edge of the bed.
After a minute of silence I speck, my voice no louder than a whisper.
"Can you stay in here please" I say, not wanting to hear the rejection again.
"Yeah" he says.
"Thank you' I reply.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.
I shake my head no. what was I supposed to say? Oh I just had a dream that you and I were getting married even though I don't date boys, and the obvious fact that you have standards.
"Ok, well, we can talk about other things" he says, getting under the blankets and making himself comfortable. I take this time to notice what he is wearing. Nothing other than a pair of boxers. His bare chest distracting me. I notice a script tattoo on the inside of his upper arm. 'TO THE MOON' it reads.
"What does 'to the moon' mean?" I ask. At first he looks confused, but then he looks down at his arm, smiles and looks back at me.
"I'm not sure" he says, grinning.
"I'm confused?" I say. "why did you get it?" I ask, I'm really curious.
"I liked the look of it. Hopefully one day it will have a meaning behind it, I don't know, but for now, it just looks cool" he says, softly.
"Oh, when I get tattoos there is always a meaning behind it" I say. Why am I opening up to him?
"Okay, so what does the diamond mean?" he says pointing to my hand. I have a simple diamond outline between my knuckle and my joint on my pinkie. I look at it for a second.
"Diamonds are strong and indestructible. I guess I got it because I want to be strong, and indestructible. Immortal kind of" I say, my eyes meeting his. He smiles.
"And the music note" he asks, glancing behind my ear.
"I guess music got me through a shit load of stuff. I got the note because I love the fact that music can make you feel so many different emotions, good and bad. I kind of respect music I guess" I say, blushing about the fact that I am telling him so much. He nods, taking it all in.
"Got any more?" he asks.
I sit up straight, and pull the bottom of his shirt ap, and the corner of my panties down, exposing my hip.
"My friend Fletcher did this one. I think it was the second time he had ever done a tattoo, and we were both really drunk." I giggle. Michael looks down at the badly handwritten ink. It reads 'MY BODY. MY ART.' He traces his soft fingers over the writing, smiling. A warm feeling spreads throughout my body.
"And what does this one mean to you?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
"At the time, nothing. But I guess now it means that I do what I want, and I don't go by anybody else's rules." I reply to him. This earns a smile from him. A smile that looks like it could make flowers grow, and cure cancer. His hand is still on my hip, and his face is only centimetres away from mine. My skin prickles as his breath blows across my skin, wisping at the loose strands of hair that have fallen on my face. He reaches a hand up and gently pushes the hair out of the way, resting it on my cheek. And then his lips are ever so lightly against mine, so soft I can barely feel it. The small warmth I usually get from his hand is replaced my fire all over my body, making me feel higher than I have ever been before. And then, the image flashes. Of me in my white gown, and him, in his black tux. I pull away; taken aback by the games by mind is playing with me. Michael notices my discomfort.
"I'm sorry" he says, quickly looking down, blushing.
"Um, no, it's not... I just" I stutter, not sure what to say.
"It's okay Marns, you need some sleep, do you still want me to stay with you?" he asks, hopefully.
"Yes please" I say, a small smile playing at my lips.
"Okay" he says, smiling back. He walks across the room and switches off the light, leaving us both in darkness. I feel the bed dip and I know he is in. I snuggle down under the sheets, and he makes a point to stay over the other side, not crossing an invisible line that he has made on the bed. But I never followed the rules.
I scoot across, pressing my body close to his. It's warm. Comfortable. He slowly drapes an arm around my stomach, unleashing butterflies inside of me.
"Goodnight Marns" I hear him whisper.
"Goodnight Mike" I say back. But sleep doesn't come easy. This is the first time a guy has ever stayed the night with me. The first guy who hasn't wanted sex and then left me. This is new to me. So I lay there, my body pressed against his, listening as his breathing becomes heavy and sleep washes over him. And soon, sleep is contagious, and I find myself slipping off into a light sleep, and for the first time ever, I feel safe, like I belong.
omg how cute is Mike guys?
Feel free to comment/vote/share
Casey xxx
YOU ARE READING
crack || m.c
Fanfiction"I just can't win" she cried. "Its not about winning, its about giving it your all" he said, comforting her. But she knew, the cracks had already formed.
