Mimeomia

22 | thunderstruck

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

THUNDERSTRUCK

( — overcome with consternation; confounded; astounded. )

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

          THEY ALWAYS TALK ABOUT THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM. That never fails to leave Michaela extremely uncomfortable, reminding her perhaps she wasn't meant to be happy, that there's always something bad lurking around the corner to ruin everything she has fought so hard for. Therefore, she keeps her eyes closed, scared everything will fall apart as soon as she dares to let them flutter open.

          Next to her, Lincoln stirs on the bed, tightening the hold around her waist, and she doesn't want to leave. She knows how much work she has to do, which is nothing compared to what he has to do, but, right now, lying in his arms is the only thing she wants to do and the only place in the world where she wants to be. It takes her back to old, simpler times, when they'd spend their Saturday mornings exactly like this, in this bed, and they didn't feel like the clocks were ticking.

          Her heartbeat doesn't even make an effort to try to slow down and she's almost certain Lincoln can feel it too. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, leaving her to wonder how her hair doesn't tickle his nose to the point where it becomes unbearable, but she's too comfortable to complain, snuggling a bit closer to his chest.

          When Lincoln brushes her hair away to press his lips against her skin, however, raising goose bumps wherever he touches, she finally moves, feeling his own hand slowly trail down her stomach. She laughs, as his fingertips and beard leave her immensely ticklish, and it just proves things definitely haven't changed as much as both of them thought they had.

          "Hi," she greets, with a tiny laugh, and rolls to the side to face him, while he props himself up on an elbow to stare down at her. His free hand makes its way up her waist, feeling the outline of her rib cage, and stops at the curve of her neck. "I haven't brushed my teeth yet."

          His lips tremble with laughter and the smile refuses to vanish from hers, with his amusement being contagious. "And who has time for such trivialities?"

          "I do. Even if I don't, I force myself to find time for those things you consider to be trivialities, but they happen to be important parts of my daily routine."

          "And I missed being part of it." Lincoln kisses the tip of her nose before rolling out of bed and stretching his arms over his head once he's standing up, while Michaela decides to enjoy the view—including the lean muscles of his back and arms and how his skin disappears under his sweatpants.

          When he exits the room, she's sincerely hoping she's not blushing. That would surely be embarrassing. With a small sigh, she reaches out an arm towards the bedside table on her side, trying to grab her phone without moving too much, as there's really not a lot she can do while waiting for Lincoln to come back so she can go brush her own teeth.

          (She has always liked her privacy in the bathroom, even if it's just to wash her hands, and Lincoln has never failed to respect her, which she has always been thankful for.)

          Her phone is being flooded with notifications all over her social media accounts and her text messages, which is something that rarely happens—unless it follows something terrible. She hopes she's doing the smart thing by checking her text messages first, as people are a lot more believable when they're away from social media, but almost regrets it as soon as she does it.