Cherry Bomb (A Michael Fassbender Fanfic)

18: The Call

I grimaced as Frank pumped butter vigorously over our large popcorn. And no, that's not an euphemism.

"How's that?" He asked, a proud grin stretching over his face.

"Perfect," I lied. I internally gagged imaging the urine colored syrup coating my throat if I dared to try the popcorn.

Our fifth date, and Frank has never once asked if I even like fake butter on my popcorn. You'd think a gym rat would skip it completely.

Double checking our tickets, Frank leads me to the theater and we find two open spots near the center.

The lights dim and the trailers begin. I think movie trailers are my favorite part of the whole moving-going experience. And honestly, I don't think I can explain why exactly.

Frank edges the popcorn bucket closer to me but I pat my stomach and tell him I'm still full from lunch. I open my bottled water and take a generous swig as the voice-over introduces an action film.

"In a world where humans drop lower on the food chain, only one man holds the key to survival. Michael Fassbender is... Solomon Reeds."

I spit my water onto the poor lady in front of me and begin to choke. Seeing Michael's face on the big screen hit me hard like a brick.

I did my best to wipe down my splash back victim, apologizing profusely. Not having enough napkins, I began to use the sleeve of my sweater. "I'm so, SO, sorry..." I uttered between coughs.

Frank pat my back hard, his eyes wide with confusion. "Wrong pipe?" He asked.

"Yes," I cleared my throat and stood. "I'll be right back." I gestured to the exit. "Potty."

Poor Frank. I about gave him a heart attack. I rush to the nearest restroom in order to calm myself down.

It's been three months since I've seen Michael. We haven't even spoken. And why should we? As they say, you can't start a new chapter if you keep re-reading the past ones. I deserved a clean break, and that's what I've done.

But I didn't expect it to hurt so damn bad, seeing him larger than life.

***

I stirred the sauce and strained the pasta, keeping an eye on the time. Frank would be here any minute. This is the first time he's coming over as well as the first time I'm cooking for him. Thankfully Alfredo pasta is a safe dish so there's no way I could screw this up.

Frank arrived with a bottle of wine. He gingerly placed a kiss upon my forehead and I blushed. He's a sweet guy but I'm hoping he's a little more not-so-sweet in the sack.

I don't love Frank. And I don't think he loves me. But I have needs. I trust him and I'm horny. Tonight better end with him in my bed. Consensually, of course.

I barely touched my food, which is unlike me lately. I've gained a little weight, eating my feelings. I blame Michael completely. Oreos don't mend a broken heart, but it doesn't hurt to try.

"So," Frank smiled after wiping his lips with a napkin. Here we go.

"So," I countered, doing my best to smile sexily. I carefully took a sip of my wine, needing a little liquid courage.

"Forgive me for... heh, for being frank, but I'm thinking we should have sex." Frank's voice rose higher with each word and he cleared his throat.

Bingo.

I stood and grabbed his hand, pulling him from the table. He crashed his mouth against mine, our teeth hitting each other. We both groaned in pain but tried our best to ignore it. Walking backwards, leading Frank to my bedroom, we kissed hard as if our lives depended on it. It was obvious we were both nervous and just a bit out of practice.