Bad ➰Michael Jackson

Part 8

               

After this chapter I'll hit 1k I'm sure, so thank you all for reading. Much love.         

Part 8

              When Shaka wakes, the first thing that flicks through her mind was the storm that took place last night and the demon that she thought was in her closet. Hell, she still thinks that. She's a strong believer in her religion and figures if angels were real, then so is the devil. You can never be too careful.

With a soft sigh she stretches her body out, legs cramping and is immediately hit with overbearing warmth. Stilling, she turns her head to the side(which was easy because she was on her stomach) and is met with the sight of curly hair and light skin. Daryl.

Daryl was entangled in her cover- they both were actually- and he was still deeply asleep. His black lashes were brushing his cheeks and his body was relaxed, not in that rigid hold he usually copes. His pink mouth was closed and he was breathing gently through his nose. The warmth that she felt was her legs entangling with his--she gently moves away. She was going to let him continue to sleep but then she catches a glance at the clock.

10:59 am.

It was already pretty late and her mother would be home after catching breakfast with Auntie Jas. If she comes home and sees someone in her bed--a male at that--then she was liable to catch a case. She'd rather her find them in the living room versus the bedroom.

She wiggles underneath the mound of cover and opens her mouth. "Daryl, wake up." She doesn't really speak loudly so she understands why he never stirs.

She licks her lips and sits up, removing the blanket from her body as she looks down at him. "Daryl c'mon you-"

Her voice cuts off as she looks down at Daryl. Because she sat up and pushed the cover back off of her, this resulted in the blanket being removed from Daryl as well. There he lays with nothing covering him. What made her shut her mouth though wasn't the fact that he was possibly cold--it was the fact that there was a very noticeable bulge in the front of his pants.

Eyes now impossibly wide, Shaka takes another peek, helping herself. She couldn't see it through his jeans, but she could see the outline clearly. Not knowing what to do, she waves her hands crazily in the air, looking around. She pushes his shoulder once. Hard. 

"Daryl, wake up!" She says in this really loud voice.

Daryl starts at the sound of her tone and stretches his body out, eyes opening. "Huh--"

"Wake up. My mom might be here." She says, watching as his eyes settles on hers. He just gazes at her for a moment before using a hand to push himself up. He drags a hand down his face.

"You are so loud." He mumbles, not even aware of just who he was talking too. She clicks her teeth but doesn't worry about it.

"My mother's gonna be here, we have to get up." She reiterates again, preparing to leave her bed.

"Oh. Right." Daryl closes his eyes briefly before reopening them. 

"Can I use the bathroom?" He asks and she tries really hard to not look down at his lap.

"Yeah, over there." She points to the door that leads to her small bathroom. Daryl gets off her bed and walks to said door, rubbing his neck.

Once the door shuts behind him, Shaka jumps up and hurriedly grabs Daryl things, ready to hand them to him once he comes out. In the mean time she opens her bedroom door and makes her way to the kitchen, opening the brand new box of pop tarts and ripping one pouch open.