Human Connect To Human

{Concert 2} Chapter 7: Backstage: Part 2

* Thank you, as always. to Invisiblylonely for editing this. *

Concert 2

Chapter 1: Backstage

Part 2

Bill woke up to an arm draped across his chest. The weight of it felt incredible against his warm body. He never before had had someone's arm over him in this way, an intimate way that only lovers shared. But this wasn't his lover; she isn't even really his friend.

He turns his head to the side, his hair falling over his eyes a bit, and looks at her. Her dark hair is in a mess, eyes still closed, her lips seductively parted. He shakes his head. He isn't Tom. And she wasn't some groupie he picked up. She was a reporter; a high-schooler, and he could get in serious trouble if anything happened between them.

But then she pulls him closer, her arm tightening around his chest. His breathing slows. No, he tells himself, this can't happen. Carefully, he pulls her arm off his chest, the cold air hitting his bare skin, giving him a chill. She pulls her arm away and turns around. Unwarranted feelings begin to surface in Bill. She found out his secret and hadn't run away... Perhaps she was the one.

Nonsense, he says as he sits up from the bed. He touches his legs through the sheets, worried should he find them bare. He doesn't. His pants are on, thank god for that. As he stands, his head begins to buzz. A remnant of what they'd done last night. He would've never guessed how much fun could be found at the bottom of a vodka bottle. But then again, he'd never met Mikah before. Her presence alone was enough to captivate his senses. He felt different around her, free.

He looks around the room, searching for his shirt. Vodka bottles lay scattered throughout the black-walled room. He picks them up while searching for his shirt. Five bottles? Oh, he is in so much trouble. He looks back at Mikah, her quiet snoring becoming loud in his ears as he approaches her, and abandons his search for his shirt.

"Mikah?" he sits on the edge of the bed and nudges her. "Mikah, wake up."

"Hmm," she mumbles as she turns. "Go back to sleep."

He looks at the clock by the nightstand. It is only 5 am, he tells himself. I could sleep for a little longer.

He walks around the bed and slips back into the warm sheets. Immediately, Mikah's unconscious body responds by pulling him closer, her arms running up and down his cool body to warm him. He stills, and her warm silky hands feel good against his skin. He wonders how the rest of her would feel against him before pinching himself on the arm for having such a perverted thought.

He closes his eyes, choosing to concentrate on something other than her hands wrapping around his slim waist. He tried not to squirm as she placed her head on his chest, her breath tickling him. He slows his breathing and replays the events of last might in his head.

They arrived to her home in a huff. One of her neighbors had seen them on the elevator as they got off and Mikah had been sure that she would call her father. They'd run to her door and, quickly shutting it, pressed their backs to it before glancing at each other and bursting into laughter. Bill couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed that hard for no reason.

Mikah pushed herself off the wall a moment later, her hand clutching her stomach. She walked into her home; he followed behind her, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I’m hungry,” she’d said. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” he replied, rubbing his arm.

The blood was seeping through his light jacket, the material pulling at the pieces of skin, making his arm tingle. She looked at him, to his arm, and then back at him, and an emotion he couldn’t understand crossed her face. She pulled his arm towards her, scrunching the sleeve up his arm carefully, and sighed.