chest, letting myself get lost in his spicy scent. As I sobbed, I snaked my arms around his waist and kept him anchored there. He loosened his grip on me, but didn’t let go.
If only he knew.
“Claire.” A voice interrupted my dream and I flicked my eyes open. A guy was sitting beside me, fingers resting against my cheek. As my vision became clearer, I could see the guy’s black mop of hair and his frightened green eyes. Michael.
“Huh?” I groaned and straightened up. I noticed I was sitting on the couch and there was a large blanket wrapped around me. I shivered even though it wasn’t cold and grimaced as I popped my neck.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice frantic. I laughed hoarsely at the question.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I questioned. Michael shifted his gaze to his hands which were somehow intertwined in mine. I took my hand away and tried to get him to look me in the eye.
“You were screaming in your sleep,” he stated. I covered my mouth with my hand and stared at him in horror.
“I was?” I tried to remember any screaming in my dreams. There wasn’t any.
“Loud. And you said Alex’s name multiple times along with ‘dad’.” He searched my eyes before handing me a cup of coffee. Black.
“How did you know what coffee I like?” I asked suspiciously. He laughed and shook his head.
“Alex told me,” he said and pushed himself into a standing position.
“What time is it?” I looked around for a clock, forgetting that I hadn’t put one in the living room yet.
“Around six in the morning,” he told me. I groaned and took a sip of the coffee. The bitter taste washed down my throat and I felt more awake than I had a few minutes ago.
“God, that’s early,” I commented.
“No kidding,” Michael replied. I glared up at him and stood up.
“Why are you still here?” I accused walking around him to my room. I heard him follow behind me.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay after the museum last night,” he paused. “I guess we both fell asleep.”
“Where’s Alex?” I inquired pulling a drawer out from my dresser. I grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank top and shuffled into the bathroom.
When I came out, Michael was back in the living room sitting on the couch. I sat down beside him, warming myself with the steam from the coffee mug.
“Where’s Alex?” I repeated and looked over at him.
“He left about five to go exercise,” he explained and smiled at me. At that moment, I could still feel his lips on mine. I shook the thought from my head and shifted a little bit away from him.
“Oh, okay,” I said and took another drink from my coffee .
“God,” Michael groaned and took the mug from me. He set it on the coffee table and took my face in his hands.
He crushed his lips against mine and I almost lost all coherence. His lips moved with mine as if they had a purpose. They were just as I remembered them; soft, but firm. I locked my arms around his neck and he snaked his around my waist.
I don’t know how long we sat there kissing, but sooner than I wanted, I pulled back. Michael opened his eyes and watched me warily. I leaned back and swiped at a tear running down my face.
Michael caught my wrist and pulled it towards him. He used his finger and traced the outines of the music notes inked onto my skin. Then, he took my hand and pressed his lips into my palm.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to enjoy the moment. Suddenly, my eyes flicked open and I snatched my hand away. I tucked it against my chest and rocked back and forth.
“Claire,” Michael whispered in agony. I shook my head and stood up. I started to pace back and forth in front of him muttering under my breath.
“I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t do this. I just can’t. I can’t do this,” I moaned. Michael shifted so he was facing my and grabbed my waist as I passed in front of him. He turned me so that I was facing him.
“Can’t do what, Claire?” he asked. I shook my head,
If only he knew.
“Claire.” A voice interrupted my dream and I flicked my eyes open. A guy was sitting beside me, fingers resting against my cheek. As my vision became clearer, I could see the guy’s black mop of hair and his frightened green eyes. Michael.
“Huh?” I groaned and straightened up. I noticed I was sitting on the couch and there was a large blanket wrapped around me. I shivered even though it wasn’t cold and grimaced as I popped my neck.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice frantic. I laughed hoarsely at the question.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I questioned. Michael shifted his gaze to his hands which were somehow intertwined in mine. I took my hand away and tried to get him to look me in the eye.
“You were screaming in your sleep,” he stated. I covered my mouth with my hand and stared at him in horror.
“I was?” I tried to remember any screaming in my dreams. There wasn’t any.
“Loud. And you said Alex’s name multiple times along with ‘dad’.” He searched my eyes before handing me a cup of coffee. Black.
“How did you know what coffee I like?” I asked suspiciously. He laughed and shook his head.
“Alex told me,” he said and pushed himself into a standing position.
“What time is it?” I looked around for a clock, forgetting that I hadn’t put one in the living room yet.
“Around six in the morning,” he told me. I groaned and took a sip of the coffee. The bitter taste washed down my throat and I felt more awake than I had a few minutes ago.
“God, that’s early,” I commented.
“No kidding,” Michael replied. I glared up at him and stood up.
“Why are you still here?” I accused walking around him to my room. I heard him follow behind me.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay after the museum last night,” he paused. “I guess we both fell asleep.”
“Where’s Alex?” I inquired pulling a drawer out from my dresser. I grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank top and shuffled into the bathroom.
When I came out, Michael was back in the living room sitting on the couch. I sat down beside him, warming myself with the steam from the coffee mug.
“Where’s Alex?” I repeated and looked over at him.
“He left about five to go exercise,” he explained and smiled at me. At that moment, I could still feel his lips on mine. I shook the thought from my head and shifted a little bit away from him.
“Oh, okay,” I said and took another drink from my coffee .
“God,” Michael groaned and took the mug from me. He set it on the coffee table and took my face in his hands.
He crushed his lips against mine and I almost lost all coherence. His lips moved with mine as if they had a purpose. They were just as I remembered them; soft, but firm. I locked my arms around his neck and he snaked his around my waist.
I don’t know how long we sat there kissing, but sooner than I wanted, I pulled back. Michael opened his eyes and watched me warily. I leaned back and swiped at a tear running down my face.
Michael caught my wrist and pulled it towards him. He used his finger and traced the outines of the music notes inked onto my skin. Then, he took my hand and pressed his lips into my palm.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to enjoy the moment. Suddenly, my eyes flicked open and I snatched my hand away. I tucked it against my chest and rocked back and forth.
“Claire,” Michael whispered in agony. I shook my head and stood up. I started to pace back and forth in front of him muttering under my breath.
“I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t do this. I just can’t. I can’t do this,” I moaned. Michael shifted so he was facing my and grabbed my waist as I passed in front of him. He turned me so that I was facing him.
“Can’t do what, Claire?” he asked. I shook my head,
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