Kiss Me Kiss Me {Michael Clifford}

Chapter 9

"Michael?" I said scratchily. He was sitting backwards to me on a couch. He quickly jerked his head backwards and flashed a smile. He stood up, only wearing pyjama bottoms. I believe this is the first time i've really seen him shirtless. His back was like a piece of art. Sculpted and perfect. I stopped staring when he turned around.

"Why am I in your house?" I wasn't as angry as I was confused.

"You were really drunk so I took you back here," He paused. "Do you remember anything?" I bit the insides of my cheeks and shook my head. Oh, god. What happened?

"You didn't, um, do anything to me did you?" He looked offended, but I think it was a reasonable question to ask.

"No, of course not! I slept on the couch all night."

"Then where are my pants?" I snapped.

"You refused to keep them on at the party so I stole someones pyjama pants and put them on you." I got a little self-conscious over the fact that Michael saw me in my underwear. I covered my face with my hands and exhaled loudly. Michael walked into the kitchen and poured me a cup of water. He led me over to the couch and sat down beside me. He handed me the cup and I took long sips and placed it back down onto an ottoman. "You probably don't feel to great, huh?" I shook my head and made a disgusted face. I lied back on the couch, making myself comfortable. "Sometimes eating a lot can make you feel better after drinking a lot. I mean, only if you can stomach it." I covered my face again as the sun came out from behind the clouds and shone through the window. "I can make you something if you want?"

"That'd be nice," I put my hand on his thigh. He stood up and walked back into the kitchen. "Can I lie down?" I asked kindly.

"Yeah, of course," He opened the fridge door and bent down. He pulled out some eggs and milk. He then dug through the cupboard and pulled out some pancake mix. Michael's house definitely wasn't picture perfect, but it was very cute and cozy. The couch was black and leather. I covered myself completely in whatever blanket I could find to block myself from the sun. "How do you like your eggs?" He yelled slightly.

"Scrambled, please," I said quietly. I took the blanket off of my head and reached for the remote. "Can I turn something on?" Michael nodded while fiddling with the knobs on the stove. I turned on the tv and it was on some weird infomercial channel. I channel surfed for a little bit until I found Supernatural. I pulled the blankets up to my neck and lied my aching head back down onto the pillow. Michael started playing music, but it was at a quiet volume which was greatly appreciated. I shut my eyes for a few minutes and ended up falling asleep. A about ten minutes later I woke up to Michael lightly shaking my shoulder.

"Breakfast." He stated quietly. I sat up slowly. My headache was still bad but not nearly as bad as it was when I woke up. I followed him into the kitchen and sat down at a bar stool. He slid me a plate with scrambled eggs, two pieces of toast with butter and bacon. He poured me a cup of milk.

"Thanks, Michael. You didn't have to do this," I said taking the first mouthful of egg into my mouth. It took me a little bit to actually swallow the first bite. The food was surprisingly good, but I could barely eat half of it. I usually love bacon, but today it was oddly nauseating.

"Don't worry about it," He smiled. He took one of the two pieces of toast and started munching on it. A heavy-set man, not overweight by any means, but large and muscular, came out of a door directly beside the kitchen. He was dressed in a grey t-shirt and blue denim jeans. He was very intimidating.

"Good morning," He greeted both of us. He walked towards me. "Nice to meet you, dear." He pulled me into a very unexpected, warm hug, almost making me fall off the bar stool. He looked at Michael to introduce me.