Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) COMPLETE, 07/23/17

Fics using the characters from Roswell, but where the plot does not have anything to do with aliens, nor are any of the characters "not of this Earth."

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keepsmiling7
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 55, 01/01/17

Post by keepsmiling7 »

Loved the Max and Scarlet part.......so glad he learned from his past mistakes.
So cute.......he asked Liz if Scarlet would like basketball........
Thanks,
Carolyn
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 55, 01/01/17

Post by sarammlover »

Mess mess mess mess mess!!! HA HA HA soooo messy. Someone needs to be honest and that someone needs to be Michael. It isn't fair to anyone but more importantly it isn't fair to Sarah. Happy New Year April!
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April
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Part 56

Post by April »

Carolyn:
]Loved the Max and Scarlet part.......so glad he learned from his past mistakes.
Yeah, he's really made an effort to be the kind of father to her that he never was (and perhaps never will be) with Dylan.


Sara: Happy New Year to you, too!
Someone needs to be honest and that someone needs to be Michael. It isn't fair to anyone but more importantly it isn't fair to Sarah.
Being honest, in this type of situation, would be one of the hardest things that Michael's ever done, but in the end . . . everyone would be better off.


Thanks for reading and leaving feedback! My music suggestion today is the beautiful song "A Brittle Filament" by The One AM Radio, which you can listen to here when you see :) if you'd like.








Part 56








When Michael suggested a guys’ night out, Kyle thought it would be fun. They invited, Steve, Fly, and Monk and headed out to The Cave, and Kyle assumed he’d spend his night watching Fly try to hit on girls, watching Monk possibly hit on a few men, and getting some solid new dad advice from Steve. Nothing too crazy, but nothing too boring, either. Michael, apparently, had other plans.

Kyle barely even saw his friend, because he headed straight to the bar. He ordered up several shots and downed them all, and he just kept asking for more and more. Kyle sat with his friends at their table, watching, wondering.

Steve noticed it, too, because when Fly and Monk got up and left the table, he finally spoke up and said, “Hey, Mike’s hittin’ it pretty hard tonight, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Kyle agreed. The fact that he wasn’t the only one to notice it set off alarms in his head, and he knew he should probably go intervene. “I’m gonna go check on him,” he said, getting up from the table. He made his way over to the bar and squeezed in next to his friend. “Hey, man,” he said. “You’re really knockin’ ‘em back.”

“It’s a talent,” Michael boasted, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. He slid his glass back across the counter and told the bartender, “Another.” The bartender gave him a skeptical look and reluctantly poured him another glass.

“Can’t remember the last time I saw you drink this much,” Kyle remarked. He had plenty of memories of Michael getting completely wasted over the years, but none of those memories were recent.

Michael grinned and declared, “It’s just like ridin’ a bike,” as he brought the shot glass back up to his lips. He cringed as he threw his entire head back and downed it all in one gulp.

No, this isn’t good, Kyle thought. Michael used to drink like this when he was pissed about something, or just upset in general. So what was he upset about?

Rather than cutting straight to that question, Kyle inquired, “What’re you drinkin’?” The stronger the drinker, the bigger the problem, most likely.

“I don’t know, but it’s . . .” Michael set his glass back down on the counter and burped. “It’s . . .” He made a face and clutched his stomach with one hand. “Oh, Kyle, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Imagine that.”

“Move, man.” Michael barreled past him and ran for the exit. Kyle followed.

It wasn’t pleasant to stand out on the sidewalk for the next three minutes, listening to Michael throw up. In fact, it was downright disgusting, but Kyle was used to it. Back in the day, Michael had thrown up in his truck countless times.

“Nice goin’,” Kyle said sarcastically. Their supposedly fun night was pretty much done for now.

“Sorry,” Michael apologized. He stayed hunched over with his hands on his knees for a few seconds, then straightened himself out and proclaimed, “Okay, I’m better now. Let’s go.” He started to head back inside, but Kyle grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“Wait a minute, you’re not gonna keep drinkin’ are you? You’re just gonna keep makin’ yourself sick.”

“Relax, Kyle,” Michael said, his words already starting to blend together. “I got this. I’m a pro.”

He headed back inside, and Kyle helplessly let him go. It used to be that he was stronger than Michael and could literally drag him away from a keg if he had to. But not anymore.

It only took ten more minutes and two more shots for Michael to do himself in. Once he got to the point where he could barely stand, he was tipsy enough that Steve could grab hold of one arm, Kyle could grab hold of the other, and together they could get him out to the car. Kyle drove him home and helped him up to his apartment, and then he and Sarah both helped him into bed.

“Wow,” Sarah said in amazement, looking down at him as he lay on his side and drooled. “He’s out, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, let him sleep it off,” Kyle suggested. “He’s gonna be feelin’ it in the morning, but . . .” He shrugged. Served him right. He should have known not to drink so much.

“Thanks for getting him home,” Sarah said gratefully.

“No problem.” Hell, it was just like old times. Which was . . . weird. And concerning. Kyle wondered if Sarah was concerned, too. If she was, she sure as hell wasn’t showing it, which made him feel like he was obligated to ask, “So does he seem like he’s doin’ okay to you?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Just in general. Does he seem like himself?”

“Well, yeah, sure,” Sarah said, sounding like her usual optimistic self. “I mean, I think he’s still trying to get his grades back up after that suspension. But other than that, I haven’t really noticed anything different.”

She hadn’t? “Huh.” This girl lived with him and loved him, so Kyle wanted to take her word for it. But he’d known Michael for longer than she had, and in some ways, he suspected he’d always know him better.

“Have you?” she questioned.

“Well, just tonight, you know,” he said, even though it wasn’t just tonight that struck him as odd. “It was a little weird.”

“It was guys’ night, though,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but . . .” That didn’t automatically equate to going out and getting trashed. “I haven’t seen Michael drink like this since high school.”

Sarah wrapped her arms around herself, looking down at her passed out boyfriend again. “I think he was just blowing off some steam,” she rationalized.

But why? Kyle wanted to ask. People went out and blew off steam after really intense, emotionally taxing days. Was Michael having days like that? And if he was, how did Sarah not know about it?

He had plenty of concerns, and what she was saying wasn’t resolving any of them. But there was no need to worry her, just in case it really was nothing. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re probably right.” He’d talk to Michael tomorrow, try to get some insight into what tonight’s binge had really been about.

“I mean . . . has he said anything to you to make you think he’s not fine?” Sarah asked quietly.

Oh, he’d definitely said something. A little something about Maria DeLuca being the love of his life. Kyle hadn’t forgotten about that. “No,” he lied, just because it wasn’t his place to reveal that to her. “He hasn’t said anything.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

( :) )

Slowly waking up, Michael struggled to open his eyes. He felt so comfortable, like he could just lie in bed and sleep all day. Like he didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He turned over onto his back, squinting against the sunlight that shone into the room. And the room . . . it wasn’t one that he recognized. The bed, as comfortable as it was, didn’t feel like one he’d slept in before. But it still felt like he was supposed to be there.

He looked to the side and saw a yellow mug on the bedside table that said
#1 Dad on it. And he knew it was his. That sense of unfamiliarity wore off, and it all just started to feel natural and normal.

“Hey, you.”

He glanced to the doorway when he heard that voice, that one voice he would never forget.
Maria. She stood there, leaning against the doorframe, her hips pushed out to one side. She had on a long-sleeved white button-down shirt, one of his. It was long enough on her that he couldn’t tell if she had anything on underneath or not.

Instantly, he felt awake. “Hey.”

She swayed into the bedroom, a flirtatious grin on her beautiful face. “You look sexy in the morning,” she said. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Everyone tells me that,” he joked, reaching up to take hold of her left hand. He traced his thumb across her fingers, over her ring, and pulled her down into the bed with him. Her body melded into his right away, and like two pieces of the same puzzle, their mouths connected for a kiss. And not just a quick one, but a deep, prolonged one.

When he finally did pull away, he only did so to tell her, “I love you.”

She smiled happily at him. “I love you, too.”

He nuzzled his nose against hers, eliciting a giggle, and started to play with her hair.

From out in the hallway, there came an, “Ew! Are you guys kissing?”

Maria moved off of him but curled up beside him, laughing lightly. Michael sat up a bit to see Dylan coming out of his bedroom, still dressed in his pajamas. “You don’t have to watch,” he told him.

“That’s gross, Dad,” Dylan said, slipping back into his room.

Michael smiled.
Dad.

“Are you gonna spend the day with him?” Maria asked.

“I think so.” There was a football in Dylan’s room that needed to be thrown around. “And then I’m gonna spend the night with you.”

“Sounds good to me.” She stretched out, arching her back up off the bed, and his eyes traveled down to her stomach. He couldn’t help but reach over, undo a few buttons on that shirt, and splay his hand against her flesh.

“I can’t wait ‘til you get bigger,” he said, imagining what it would be like to put his hand on her stomach six months from now.

“I can,” she said, putting her hand on top of his.

He linked their fingers together, squeezed her hand, then shifted down on the bed so that he could press a soft, tender kiss to his wife’s stomach.


Michael awoke with a start. To a familiar room. To his room. To the bed he slept in every night and woke up in every morning. To the bed he shared with Sarah.

He sat up too quickly and groaned as his head started to pound. He only had fuzzy memories of last night, but he’d had enough mornings like this to piece together exactly what had happened. Exactly what he’d let happen.

So much alcohol. So many shots. Too many to count.

“Oh, shit,” he swore, sprinting for the bathroom when he felt a wave of nausea. It was going to be one of these hangovers that affected him all day. He could tell.

It was never a fun experience to have to bend down over the toilet and release what felt like the entire contents of your stomach, but it wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar one, either. Michael didn’t try to hold anything in, because he knew it was best to just get it all out. It was sick, and it was embarrassing when Sarah came into the bathroom and asked, “Rough night?”

He flushed the toilet quickly and got to his feet. “Fun night. Rough morning.” He washed his hands off and said, “I’d kiss you right now, but . . .”

“No, I’d rather you not.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t feel like a very good boyfriend in that moment. He felt like . . . like the kid he used to be in high school. And it never felt good to feel like that kid. “I know I’m not usually like this,” he said, squirting some toothpaste onto his toothbrush. “I just lost track of how much I was drinkin’, I guess.”

She shrugged and said, “It happens. At least Kyle was there to bring you home.”

“Just like old times,” he mumbled, slipping his toothbrush under the sink’s stream of water for a moment. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna make a weekly thing of this,” he assured her, feeling like he just had to assure her, given his history. Given his father’s history.

“Good,” she said quietly. She could have said something judgmental, or disappointed, but she didn’t. She smiled at him in the mirror, then left the bathroom.

Michael stared at himself in the mirror, at his messy hair, disheveled clothes. Sarah wouldn’t say it, but she must have been so turned off by him right now. Clearly the only girl who thought he looked sexy this morning was the girl in his dreams.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Needing to get some work done, Alex went to his office on Saturday. He graded, and then graded some more, and just when he thought he couldn’t possibly do any more grading, he found some more things to grade. As a grad student, he wasn’t granted the luxury of having TA’s to assist him with any class he taught. If he wanted something done, it was all on him.

When he finally left, it was well into the afternoon. He swung by the student union to pick up something quick for lunch, and while he was waiting in line at the Subway station, he spotted Isabel in one of the designated study areas. She was sitting by herself, pencil in her hand, notebook on the table in front of her. Whatever she was working on was captivating all her attention.

Suddenly, all of Alex’s attention was captivated, too.

Willingly, he gave up his spot in the line at Subway and made his way over to her. As much as he wanted to be able to stay away . . . that just wasn’t an easy thing to do sometimes, especially now that he was in the process of getting divorced.

“Hey,” he said, pulling out the chair beside her.

“Hey,” she returned, smiling. She really did look happy to see him. That couldn’t just be an act, right?

“Doin’ some writing?” he asked as he took a seat.

“Yeah. Not for class, though. Just for fun.”

“That’s good.” Considering most of the other so-called ‘fun’ she had ended up online . . . writing was a nice alternative.

“Maybe you can read it when I’m done,” she proposed.

“Maybe.” He wasn’t sure if he should, though. What if it was personal? What if it was the kind of thing that just drew him right back in again? He’d worked hard to create a boundary with her, a professional one, and even though it was shaky sometimes, he didn’t want it to come crashing down.

Pushing his concerns aside, he asked, “So how’s your semester going?” figuring that question was harmless enough.

“It’s alright,” she replied with a shrug. “I’m taking another writing class. It’s not as good as yours was, though.”

He smirked, happy to hear that.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Uh, just the Shakespeare class,” he informed her. “It’s goin’ pretty well. I like teaching writing better, though.”

“It’s more interesting.”

He nodded in agreement. Writing intrigued him because his students were able to create. Literature was more about analyzing something someone else had created, and Shakespeare had already been analyzed to death.

“So did you hear that your favorite Study Buddy got engaged?” she asked him suddenly, changing the subject.

“I did. Liz told me.” Admittedly, the thought of Michael Guerin as a married man . . . took some getting used to.

“So what do you think?” she pressed. “Is he gonna go through with it?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Alex had barely spoken to Michael in the past three years, and given that he was going through a divorce of his own . . . “I’m probably the wrong person to ask.”

“I don’t really think he will,” Isabel said, “but . . . nobody listens to me.”

“Well, I hope he does. He and his girlfriend both deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she mumbled. “I mean . . . everyone deserves to be happy. Except Maria.” She rolled her eyes, then added on for his benefit, “And Leanna.”

He shook his head. “No, I want Leanna to be happy. Even if it’s not with me.” If Sean was that person, then so be it. If Jesse was that person for Isabel . . .

Jesse couldn’t be that person for Isabel, though. Could he?

She stared at him intensely, and he felt himself getting lost in those beautiful eyes of hers, the way he used to back when they were younger, back when he’d been crushed out and lovesick. He had to force himself to look away, and when he did, he noticed a guy a few tables away taking pictures of the two of them on his cell phone. A student from his class, perhaps? A student who couldn’t believe that his instructor was sitting there with a bona fide porn star?

“I have to go,” he blurted, standing up. “But it was good seeing you, Isabel.”

“Yeah,” she said, her expression shifting to one of sadness as he left. He didn’t want to be rude, but he just had to get out of there. Because as a member of NMSU’s faculty, he had to hold himself to a higher standard. And nowadays, sadly, Isabel Evans just didn’t measure up.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It didn’t come as any surprise to Michael that Kyle stopped by that afternoon. His friend had called him at least four times that morning around lunchtime, but Michael had been too tired to even pick up the phone. His day had mostly been spent on the couch, eyes closed, remote control in his hand, the sounds of football lightly coming from the TV.

“Good to see you upright again,” Kyle said when Michael let him in.

“Yeah, really.” Michael honestly didn’t remember a whole lot about last night, but that fact alone was proof that it’d been a reckless one. “Thanks for bringin’ me home.”

“Anytime,” Kyle said, glancing at the TV screen. His eyes lingered on the game for a few seconds, and when the quarterback threw a perfect pass into the end zone, he just smirked and said, “Hmm.”

Could’ve been us, Michael thought, feeling the familiar pangs of nostalgia. Kyle wasn’t the only one who missed the game.

“So is Sarah home?” Kyle asked.

“No, she’s at work,” Michael replied, shuffling into the kitchen. He had some scrambled eggs in the frying pan on low heat, and it was probably about time to give them a go.

“Explains why you’re cookin’ for yourself then,” Kyle said. “Isn’t it a little late for breakfast, though?”

“I didn’t eat breakfast. I was fuckin’ nauseous this morning,” Michael admitted. “But I heard they help settle your stomach when you’re hungover, so . . .” He shrugged and turned off the heat on the burner altogether, picked up the frying pan, and dumped the whole pile onto a plate. “Want some?” he offered. Hell, he’d made plenty.

“No, I’m good,” Kyle said. “So I take it we’re not workin’ out then.”

Michael picked up one little chunk of eggs with his hand and popped it into his mouth. “Were we supposed to?” he asked.

“Well, yeah, we planned to.”

Oh, shit, he thought, seeing no way out of it but to straight-up bail. He just wasn’t up to it today, and he couldn’t even pretend to be. “Yeah, sorry, I can’t,” he apologized. “If it was any other day . . .”

“Right,” Kyle said. It was almost like he was trying not to look disappointed, but . . . he sounded disappointed. “Well, hey, maybe I’ll ask Monk to come with me.”

“Monk?” Michael couldn’t even picture it. “Monk doesn’t work out.” The closest thing that guy ever did to exercise were the chair races they used to do when they were bored at work.

“Exactly. He’s the only friend I have who I could beat in a footrace,” Kyle said.

Michael chuckled at the thought of Monk potentially doing anything physically active. “Well, listen, if you want, I could probably go with you tomorrow.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Kyle said. “I’ll just go on my own.”

“You sure?” He felt like a bad friend.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Kyle assured him. Then he narrowed his eyes, though, and asked, “It is fine, isn’t it?”

“Is what fine?” Michael asked, feeling like he was losing track of the conversation.

“Just . . . everything,” Kyle replied vaguely. “Is everything fine with you?”

With me? Michael thought. How the hell had this conversation ended up being about him? “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” he said.

Kyle shrugged. “It just didn’t seem fine last night.”

“Why, because I got drunk?” Michael snorted. Wasn’t like it was the first time that had ever happened.

“You got wasted, man,” Kyle said. “I haven’t seen you like that in years.”

“Well, I haven’t been like that in years,” Michael admitted.

“So why last night then?”

Because I’m freaked out, he thought, about a lot of things. It wasn’t like he could say that, though, not even to Kyle, so he tried to play it off as nothing. “Why not? I was just letting loose. I was having a good time.”

“Were you?”

Michael stared at him curiously, feeling like . . . like this whole conversation wasn’t exactly coming out of nowhere. Kyle was a smart guy. Clearly he’d had an agenda in coming over here. “Okay, you know what?” Michael spat. “Why don’t you just come right out and say whatever the hell it is you’re thinking, because I have no idea what you’re gettin’ at here.”

“Alright, honestly . . .” Kyle looked down at the floor for a moment, then lifted his eyes again and looked straight at Michael. “I’m kinda worried about you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Just these past few weeks, something’s been . . .” Kyle paused as he searched for the right word. “. . . off.”

Play dumb, Michael thought. Just play fucking dumb. “What do you mean?”

“Well, there was the drinking last night, and the whole getting engaged thing.”

“Getting engaged thing?” Michael echoed.

“Yeah, it came out of nowhere. And I mean, you don’t even seem all that excited about it.”

“What? No, of—of course I’m excited,” Michael said, wishing he was a better actor, more convincing. “I’m just not a girl, so I don’t get as excited about it as Sarah does.”

“Are you sure you’re ready to marry her then?” Kyle outright asked.

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“Are you sure you want to?”

No, he thought. No, I’m not sure. But his lips were getting so used to lying at this point that the deflections just kept coming out. “Why else would I have proposed?”

“I don’t know; you tell me.”

He groaned, fed up with this. With all of it. This wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. With anyone. “What the hell, man? Why’re you doing this? You’re supposed to be my best man. You’re supposed to be supportive, not skeptical.”

“I am skeptical, though,” Kyle said.

“Why?”

“Because you flat-out told me Sarah’s not the love of your life.”

Michael tensed, wishing he hadn’t said that.

“Maria is.”

Michael clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “Fine, Sarah’s the love of my life, too, then,” he ground out. “Just let it go.”

“I can’t. I’m worried, Michael.”

“What, about me?”

“You, her, all of you.”

He didn’t want Kyle to worry, though, and he sure as hell didn’t want him to question anything. Because if he started doing that, then maybe Sarah would, too. And that wouldn’t end well. “Well, that’s great, Kyle,” he grumbled, feeling his frustration rising, getting the best of him. “Good for you for finally thinkin’ about someone other than yourself. ‘cause, you know, you did that for two years.”

Kyle didn’t even flinch, though. “Nice.”

“Well, you did.” Michael knew he was being a jerk, but it just seemed like the easiest way to get the accusations off of him was to turn them back onto Kyle. “You sat on the couch feelin’ sorry for yourself and watching football games, and we all worried about you.”

Kyle shook his head calmly. “This isn’t about me.”

“Sure it is.” Michael flung open the refrigerator and pulled out a beer can from inside. “You wanna get your life back to the way it was three years ago, and what were you doin’ three years ago? Oh, you were lookin’ out for poor screwed-up Michael. But guess what: I’m not screwed up anymore, and you’re not the guy who’s got it all figured out.”

“Never said I was.”

Even though he wanted to stop, Michael felt like he was a freight train, just barreling down the tracks without brakes. “I mean, look at you. You’re not in school, you don’t have a job, and you got two kids on the way. Tess wouldn’t even be with you right now if I hadn’t begged her to take you back, so maybe you’re the one who’s screwed up, Kyle. Think about that the next time you ride up in here on your high horse tryin’ to tell me what’s wrong with my life.”

Finally, after all of that, Kyle started to look at little rattled. “Wow,” he said, nodding angrily.

“I’m just saying . . .” Michael popped open the tab on his beer can and took a drink.

Kyle gave him a long, hard stare, and then mumbled, “Congratulations, Michael. You look just like your dad.” And then he turned and left without another word.

No other words were necessary, though. That was all it took for every muscle in Michael’s body to tense up. He gripped the beer in his hand so tightly that the tin started to bend beneath his fingertips. Suddenly, he felt like that same little boy who used to walk into the kitchen and see his dad getting drunk, wondering why he wouldn’t stop, wishing he would.

Anything else. He could have looked like anything but that.

Fearfully, he poured the rest of his beer straight down the sink.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Oh my god!” Tess exclaimed as she pulled two little onesies out of the sack Sarah had handed her. “Sarah! These are so cute!”

“Yeah, when I saw them, I just had to get them for you,” Sarah said. Both were red, and one of them said Thing 1 on the front while the other said Thing 2.

“I love them,” Tess said. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” Sarah hugged her best friend, but the ever-protruding stomach sort of got in the way. “Ooh, you’re getting harder to hug these days,” she remarked.

Tess gasped, feigning outrage, and yelped, “Shut up! You’ll be harder to hug someday, too.”

Sarah smiled fondly at the thought. “Someday.”

“Well, thank you again for the gift,” Tess said, putting the onesies back in the sack she’d pulled them out of. “So . . .” she said leadingly, drawing it out. “Did you hear?”

“Hear what?” Sarah asked. She’d been at work all day, so she hadn’t heard anything.

“It’s our boyfriends,” Tess revealed. “Apparently they got in a fight.”

Sarah made a face, struggling to even picture that. “Like a real one?”

“Yep.”

That just didn’t even seem possible. “What? No way.”

“They did,” Tess insisted. She peered back over her shoulder down the hallway. The door to the bedroom was closed, but she lowered her voice anyway, as if she didn’t want Kyle to know that she was gossiping about him. “Kyle was all upset when he came home this afternoon. When I asked him what was wrong, he just said he and Michael got pissed at each other and he didn’t wanna talk about it.”

“So what happened?” Sarah asked. She wasn’t a gossipy girl by any means, but something as weird and unheard of as a bromance fight had her curious.

“I don’t know. He won’t say,” Tess replied. “So that’s why you have to go home and dig up some info, and then report back to me.”

Sarah sighed, figuring she could try her best. But if Kyle wasn’t talking about it, the odds were that Michael wouldn’t, either.

By the time she got home, the sun was just starting to set outside, but Michael was already lying in bed. He wasn’t sleeping, though, because he opened his eyes the moment she walked in the door.

“Hi, honey,” she said, toeing off her shoes.

“Hey.”

She shuffled towards the bed, her scrubs dragging on the floor. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” he answered plainly. “Not too exciting. You?”

“Same.” In her mind, she had more of a segue planned out, but she abandoned it as her curiosity got the best of her, and instead she sat down on the side of the bed and simply blurted out, “So I heard you and Kyle had a fight.”

Michael propped himself up on his forearms and asked, “Who told you?”

“Tess. She and I were both kind of wondering what happened.”

Michael looked away from her and shook his head. “It was nothing.”

“Well, clearly it was something. You guys never really fight,” she pointed out. “So what’s wrong?”

“No, nothing. Nothing’s wrong,” he dismissed, throwing the covers off. He shot out of bed and headed for the bathroom, also known as the only room in their tiny apartment where he could have any privacy.

“Michael . . .” she tried to stop him.

“Just leave it alone, okay?” he snapped. “I don’t wanna rehash it.” He shut the door, and she even heard the lock click into place.

Sarah frowned. Obviously this wasn’t just some small fight Kyle and Michael had had. As much as she wanted to know what was going on, and as much as Tess wanted her to find out, she knew she had to give him space to figure this out on his own.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael avoided Kyle all Sunday. In fact, he avoided the subject of Kyle altogether. Tess sent him a lot of texts asking what the hell was going on, but he didn’t respond to any of them. And Sarah was more understanding. She didn’t push him to talk about it or tell her what was happening. Although she did seem concerned.

He worked a double shift on Sunday, just to have something to do, and then that evening, he hit the books, desperately needing to prepare for a social psych test he had this week. His grades this semester still weren’t what they typically were. In fact, if he didn’t buckle down and focus, they were going to start to resemble his high school grades. And with scholarships on the line, he couldn’t have that.

With no class on Monday, it was another good day to study, although he did swing by the elementary school to assist Jake in his afternoon classes. Things went smoothly enough, and after Jake went home, he popped into Vanessa’s office to give her an update on how things were going.

“So his Circle of Friends went well last week then?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I don’t know if any of those kids are actually his friends yet, but they’re not completely freaked out by him anymore. So that’s progress.”

“It is,” she agreed. “You know, Michael, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for Jake. It’s not easy, but you’ve established a really good rapport with him. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks.” Michael may have registered the compliment more if he wasn’t distracted by a piece of paper on her desk that caught his eye. It was a list of names, and since one of the names was Maria’s name, it automatically had his attention. “What’s this?” he asked, picking up the paper.

“Oh, that’s the chaperone list for the dance,” she informed him.

The dance, huh? He’d seen fliers for it posted all around the school, but he hadn’t looked at them too closely. “Is that this Friday?” he inquired.

“Unfortunately,” she groaned. “You know, it’s the first time they’ve ever had this dance, and even though it wasn’t my idea, somehow I’ve ended up in charge of it.”

Didn’t surprise him. Vanessa ended up in charge of a lot of things from what he could tell. “You need any more chaperones?” he asked, counting up the names on the list. There were an even dozen of them.

“I’ve probably got enough,” she said, “but if you wanted to come, I wouldn’t say no.”

Michael knew it was weird to want to go to an elementary school dance, and he knew in his heart that there was one main reason why he wanted to go. That reason was the sixth name on the list. “I’ll see if I can,” he said, setting the paper back down on her desk. If Maria was going to be there, he wanted to be there, too.

In class on Tuesday, he waited for the perfect moment to casually bring it up with Maria. She sat next to him, not saying a whole lot, and unfortunately, he waited too long. The professor started in on the seventies of the eighties or whatever the hell it was they were supposed to be learning about today, and that left Michael with no choice but to talk to her quietly in the midst of the lecture.

“So I hear you’re chaperoning this dance on Friday,” he mumbled just loud enough for her to hear.

“Oh, uh . . . yeah, I—I volunteered,” she confirmed.

“Should be fun,” he remarked. As much as he wanted to be around her that night, he also wouldn’t mind watching Dylan get out there and have a good time. It beat watching him on the basketball court.

“Are you going?” Maria practically whispered, and he was glad she asked.

“I was thinkin’ about it,” he said. “You know, in case Jake’s there.”

“Yeah, it would be good for him to have you around.”

He nodded, mentally applauding himself for coming up with a good, logical reason for his attendance. Although chances were, Jake wouldn’t go, so he wouldn’t be needed.

It dawned on him then, suddenly, that Maria might not be going by herself. Just because it had been her name on the list . . . that didn’t mean she wasn’t bringing someone with her.

“Is Max gonna be there?” he asked, hoping the answer was no.

“Um . . . yeah, I think so,” she answered quietly.

Great, he thought sarcastically. It was like something inside of him just automatically deflated, and suddenly, the idea of spending the whole evening at that dance didn’t sound as appealing. “Maybe I won’t go then,” he muttered. Chaperones ended up dancing with each other most of the time, and he didn’t want to have to watch that.

He cast a quick sideways glance at her, just to gauge her reaction. She wasn’t saying anything, but she looked a little deflated, too. And he hoped she was. Selfishly, it thrilled him to know she was disappointed he might not be there.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria’s eyes scanned the calendar she always kept on top of the microwave, zeroing in on Friday. As irresponsible as it was, she’d actually spaced off this whole dance thing until Michael had mentioned it today. She’d forgotten to write it down and nearly forgotten that she’d volunteered to help supervise. She must have agreed to that back around Christmas. So chances were, if she hadn’t remembered, Max wouldn’t remember, either.

He came out into the kitchen, asking, “Hey, are you ever comin’ to bed?”

“Eventually,” she said, looking at the other notable event they had going on this Friday. “I was just looking at our schedule for the week.”

He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, hugging her from behind. “No basketball,” he said, kissing the side of her neck. “That means we’ll have a little more downtime.”

“Except for Friday,” she pointed out. “That’s Dylan’s dance.”

He tensed slightly, echoing, “Friday? This Friday?”

“Yeah.”

He removed his arms from her body and muttered, “Crap. That’s Scarlet’s birthday.”

“I saw that.” As awful and as wrong as it was, she’d sort of been relieved to see that he was double-booked. Not that she would have minded being at the dance with him. It was just that . . . without him there, it’d be easier to spend some time with Michael.

“What am I gonna do?” he fretted. “Liz’s parents are coming down, my mom’s coming. We were gonna have a little party for her at the bakery.”

“Well, then you have to go,” Maria told him simply. “It’s okay. Dylan will understand.”

Max exhaled heavily, reluctantly. “It’s his first dance, though.”

“But it’s your daughter’s second birthday. You should be there for that,” she persisted. “I’ll take Dylan to the dance and do the whole chaperone thing, and maybe we’ll be able to swing by the party when it’s done.”

He thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Sounds like a plan, I guess. I just wish I could be in two places at once.”

She smiled at him sympathetically, but truthfully . . . she was glad he couldn’t be.








TBC . . .

-April
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LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
sarammlover
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 56, 01/08/17

Post by sarammlover »

I feel bad that Alex thought he couldn't stay and talk to Isabel because of some higher standards. She is a mess. She needs help but maybe with his help she can come back!!!! And Maria and Michael need to stop whatever this is until they let Max and Sarah go. It breaks my heart the most for Sarah but even Max is going to get hurt. He at least has Liz.....sad times.
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 56, 01/08/17

Post by keepsmiling7 »

Michael is in a real mess.
As much as I think Michael and Maria should be together, it breaks my heart what this will do to Sarah.
And gee Maria, how quick did you talk Max our of Dylan's dance? She couldn't have planned Scarlet's birthday any better.
Maria and Michael really do belong together, but the damage they will leave behind is unbelievable.
Thanks,
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Part 57

Post by April »

Sara:
I feel bad that Alex thought he couldn't stay and talk to Isabel because of some higher standards. She is a mess. She needs help but maybe with his help she can come back!!!!
Yeah, he's very torn when it comes to her. In his heart, he still cares about her, but all logic is telling him that she has to be the one to help herself and he needs to move on.
And Maria and Michael need to stop whatever this is until they let Max and Sarah go. It breaks my heart the most for Sarah but even Max is going to get hurt.
That actually speaks volumes that you even feel bad for Max in this situation, considering what he did in the last story. But he's changed a lot, and he's tried to step up and be a good family man, and . . . this is what he gets in return. :(


Carolyn:
Michael is in a real mess.
As much as I think Michael and Maria should be together, it breaks my heart what this will do to Sarah.
Michael's in a self-created mess here. And yes, poor Sarah . . . that girl has been, like, the best, most understanding girlfriend he could ever ask for, and . . . and it's not enough for him. :(
Maria and Michael really do belong together, but the damage they will leave behind is unbelievable.
At this point . . . somebody's going to end up being devastated. Either Max and Sarah, or Michael and Maria themselves.


Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!

Another music suggestion today: "Wild Horses" by The Sundays. Very beautiful. You can listen to it here when you see :) if you'd like.









Part 57








Michael was placing letters in their correct mailboxes when the bell on the front counter rang. He ducked out from the little mail room, surprised to see Tess standing there.

“Michael, Michael, Michael,” she said in a song-like kind of way.

“Tess, Tess, Tess,” he mimicked. “What’re you doin’ here?”

She trailed her fingers along the edge of the counter. “Just . . . being nosy, mostly,” she openly admitted.

He sighed, pretty sure he knew what this was about. “You wanna know what’s going on with me and Kyle, huh?”

So badly,” she emphasized. “I mean, I don’t remember you guys ever going so many days without even talking. It’s weird.”

“We just . . . need some space from each other right now,” he told her.

“Why? What’re you fighting about?”

To be honest . . . Michael wasn’t even sure. He hadn’t exactly enjoyed Kyle’s parting shot about him looking like his dad, but that wasn’t what pissed him off the most. What pissed him off was that Kyle had had the audacity to bring up the whole Maria thing. It was almost like he was trying to plant doubts in his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “It’ll blow over.”

“Well, so far it hasn’t,” she pointed out. “He’s really upset, Michael, and I don’t like seeing him upset, because . . .” She trailed off, her voice changing to a whimper. “Because he’s been doing so well lately.”

He stared at her, hating the concern he saw in her eyes and noting the way she put one hand on her stomach. She wasn’t really worried about their friendship so much as she was worried about Kyle in general, worried that he’d slip back into that depressive mode of his, start cutting himself off from people again, lose his newfound motivation.

“I’ll talk to him,” he assured her, figuring he could overcome his anger if it would make her feel better. “Don’t worry, Tess.” He could patch things up with Kyle and get things back to normal between the two of them, and it wouldn’t even be that hard. And maybe then Kyle could go back to focusing on what really mattered.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The air was brisk and windy outside, but Kyle was just standing out in the backyard, hands in his pockets, eyes focused on one big tree. Michael stepped out the back door, curious as to what his friend was up to out there. “What’re you doin’?” he asked.

Kyle answered without turning around, “Just tryin’ to see if I’ve got the right kind of tree for a treehouse. Thought I’d build one.”

Michael nodded, picturing it. “That’d be cool.” He’d always wanted a treehouse when he’d been a kid, and his dad had promised him one. But he’d never gotten it.

“Ah, who am I kidding?” Kyle mumbled. “I can’t build a treehouse. Too much heavy lifting.”

It was a lot of heavy lifting, and a lot of work in general, but he didn’t have to do it alone. “I’d help you,” Michael offered.

Kyle turned around slowly, looking at him skeptically. “Would you?”

He realized their last conversation had left plenty of room for doubt, but when it came right down to it . . . there wasn’t much he wouldn’t help Kyle do. “Yeah,” he said, already wondering if it was something they could put together this summer. Hell, maybe it’d be a fun project. If Kyle wanted his help, that was.

Michael sighed, sulking forward. “I’m sorry I said all that shit the other day,” he apologized, hoping they could just put it behind them. They were guys, so they didn’t have to drag fights out like girls did. “I was just pissed and hungover, and I took it out on you.”

Kyle nodded solemnly and reciprocated the apology. “Sorry I said you looked like your dad. That was a low blow. You’re nothin’ like him.”

“No, I was the other night,” Michael acknowledged. “I got so drunk.” He didn’t want to be the type of guy to resort to alcohol when the going got tough. It hadn’t even done any good in the long run.

“That doesn’t mean you’re like him, though,” Kyle said.

Michael swallowed hard. “Good, ‘cause I don’t wanna be.” Being like his dad . . . it would be his worst fear come to life.

“Me, neither,” Kyle related. “You know, we’re kind of in the same boat here. We both just wanna be someone. And we will be. I’ll be a father, and you’ll be a husband.”

Michael nodded tensely, still trying to wrap his mind around that inevitability. “Someday you’ll be a husband, too.”

“And someday you’ll be a father.” Kyle smiled at him.

Someday, Michael thought. He thought of Dylan.

“At least you’re doin’ things in the right order, man,” Kyle said, chuckling lightly. “I’m all backwards.”

“Ah, you’ll be alright,” Michael assured him. “You’ve come a long way these past few months.”

“Thanks,” Kyle said, hesitating ever so slightly before asking, “So we’re good?”

“We’re fine.” They’d known each other so long that it would take a lot more than one little argument to get in between the two of them. “Come on, let’s hug it out. Bro-hug.”

Kyle clasped his hand and pulled him close, patting him on the back. “Feels good in here.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, laughing a bit. He took a step back, glad to have that apology off his chest. He really hadn’t meant what he’d said to Kyle the other day. It’d just been the anger and frustration talking.

“Alright, don’t hate me,” Kyle started in, “but I gotta ask just one more time, just ‘cause you’re my best friend and I care about you, okay?”

“Okay.” Michael braced himself, knowing what the question would be.

“Are you sure you wanna marry Sarah?”

He nodded, making sure he sounded confident in his answer. “I’m sure.”

“And what about Maria?”

Trying to act casual, he shrugged. “What about her?”

“She’s . . . the love of your life,” Kyle reminded him.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love Sarah, too.” He’d done a lot of reflecting these past few weeks, and he’d come to the conclusion that it was in fact possible to love two girls at once. Because what he felt for Sarah was love without a doubt. What he felt for Maria was just . . . it was just love at a different level.

“Alright,” Kyle said. “I just wanna make sure.”

“No, I appreciate it,” Michael said. Rather than lashing out this time, he was going to try to just be grateful. All Kyle was trying to do was look out for him. And that was what he’d always done. “I’m gonna marry Sarah and try to make her really happy every single day for the rest of her life. ‘cause that’s what she deserves.”

“She does,” Kyle agreed. “Okay. I won’t say another thing about it then.”

Inwardly, Michael breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria tugged on a brand new pair of jeans and fastened them, spinning around to take a look at how her backside looked in them. They were supposed to accentuate your curves, in a good way. But she felt like they would have looked better on . . . some other girl.

A knock at the door distracted her, which was probably a good thing, because she’d spent way too much time already trying on clothes for Friday night. She went to the door and opened it, and surprisingly, there stood Michael’s girlfriend on the other side.

“Hey, Sarah,” she said.

“Hey,” Sarah chirped. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Maria stepped aside and allowed Sarah to come into the house. She wasn’t quite sure what was going on—surely a mall invite could have been accomplished through text message. The last time Sarah had dropped by, it had been to beg her to testify against Billy. Hopefully this wasn’t something equally as serious.

“How’s it going?” Maria asked as she shut the front door.

“Really good, actually,” Sarah said, taking a seat on the couch. “Now that Michael and Kyle have patched things up, life’s starting to feel normal again. The Earth is no longer tilted off its axis.”

Maria frowned, not understanding. “Michael and Kyle were fighting?” That was just bizarre to even contemplate.

“Yeah, hard to believe, I know,” Sarah said. “But Michael had a little too much to drink last Friday, and I guess Kyle got upset with him about it, and they just . . .” She waved her hands in front of her face. “Whatever. They’re over it now, so . . . must not have been that big of a deal.”

“Right,” Maria said, though it sure sounded like a big deal to her. If Michael had really been drunk enough to get Kyle so angry, then wasn’t that cause for concern? It didn’t seem like he went out and got wasted anymore, so why would he . . .

“That’s actually not why I’m here, though,” Sarah said.

“It’s not?” Maria sat down beside her, worried that something had happened. Like maybe somehow Sarah had found out the truth about that ring on her finger.

“No. See . . . you know how I thought Michael would be, like, super enthused about having Dylan be the ring-bearer for our wedding?” Sarah grimaced. “Well, he hasn’t said anything directly, but somehow I just sense that he’s not as thrilled about it as I thought he’d be. So has he said anything to you about it?”

“Oh, well, he . . .” He said plenty, Maria thought, but she was going to have to give Sarah the watered-down version. “He kind of implied that it might be a little weird for him, just because Dylan was gonna be our ring-bearer once. And—not that he’s feeling nostalgic or anything—I just think he wants that day to be all about you and all about his future with you. Rather than the past.”

Sarah nodded contemplatively. “So maybe we should find another ring-bearer then.”

“Or just talk to him about it and see where his head’s at,” Maria suggested. “If you guys decide you wanna go a different direction, that’s fine; but if you decide you do want Dylan to be your ring-bearer, then that’s fine, too.”

“Okay,” Sarah said. “I’ll let you know how he feels about it.” She started to stand up, but she paused for a moment and sat back down. “But . . . wait a minute,” she said, looking right at Maria. “What about you? How do you feel about it? I mean, if it bothers him, it must bother you, too. God, here I am being insensitive again.”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Maria assured her. Sarah had been nothing but nice to her, and she really didn’t want her to feel guilty. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“Are you sure?”

No, Maria thought. I’m not sure. In fact, the only thing she was sure of was that it actually did bother her. But that was . . . a very selfish feeling, and she just had to get over it. “Yeah,” she answered, putting on her happy face. “I’m just so excited for both of you.”

Sarah beamed a smile. “Thanks, Maria,” she said. “You’re a really good friend.”

Maria smiled nervously. If Sarah had any idea just how many inappropriate thoughts about Michael raced through her mind day after day . . . she probably wouldn’t think she was such a good friend anymore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So is this Friday night gonna be as wild as your last one?”

Michael frowned, cocking his head to the side. “Who’d you talk to? Kyle?”

“No, Sarah,” Maria replied.

He shifted in his seat as their professor came in to the auditorium. “No, this one’s gonna be pretty tame,” he replied. “Just gonna stay in with Sarah, relax, watch some movies.”

She nodded, eyes cast downward towards her lap. “I’ve got that dance tonight.”

He nodded slowly, still wishing he could be there. But him and Max there together . . . it just probably wouldn’t end well. “Big night for those little kids,” he remarked, wondering how Dylan was feeling about it.

“Yeah,” she agreed, and then, as if she could read his mind, she added, “Dylan’s excited.”

“I’ll bet.” Dylan would be a hot commodity at any and all dances he attended. The girls far outnumbered the boys in his grade, so he’d probably be dancing every slow dance.

She cleared her throat and quickly glanced up at him. “Turns out Max can’t go, though,” she said.

“Really?’ Michael couldn’t help but be . . . intrigued. Was that some kind of hint?

“Yeah. It’s Scarlet’s birthday party tonight, so . . .”

“Oh.” It was definitely a hint. He nodded slowly again, already devising a plan in his head. He could tell Sarah the honest to God truth: that one of the chaperones couldn’t make it. He could say he was just filling in. It really wasn’t even a lie if he told her that. “So do you think they need another chaperone then?” he asked.

Maria shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“That’s up to you,” she mumbled, barely making eye contact. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?” He grinned, noticing the way she was starting to blush under the heat of his gaze. She definitely cared, and that meant she definitely wanted him there.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The dance wasn’t fancy. For elementary kids, it didn’t need to be. Basically all the tables had been moved out of the cafeteria, the lights were off, and there were a few streamers and balloons decorating the walls. The principal, of all people, was the DJ. He was just playing songs off his computer, which was hooked up to a speaker system for amplified volume.

Michael got there pretty early, so it was still that awkward time when the kids were sort of just standing around out on the dance floor. Nobody wanted to be the first to start dancing. A few of the third grade girls were taking off their shoes, though, a sure sign that they wouldn’t be stationary for much longer.

Michael moseyed on over to Vanessa, who was frantically restocking the food table. There were various bowls of chips and candy and punch, but knowing the way little kids were, they’d end up making a mess of it by the time the night was over. In fact, if the dance didn’t end in a food fight, it’d be a damn miracle.

“Hey, Vanessa,” he greeted.

“Oh, Michael. Hi,” she said, smiling at him. “I didn’t think you were gonna be here.”

He shrugged. “Plans changed at the last minute. Thought I’d come by.”

“Well, that was nice of you.” She dumped a whole bag of Lays chips into a bowl and tossed the bag into the trash. “Well,” she said, brushing off her hands, “how’s it look?”

“Looks good.”

She laughed a little. “Yeah, this is the result of me and a couple really ambitious third graders after school today. Nothing more.”

“Probably looks like prom to them, though,” he pointed out. “You know what? I spiked the punch at every prom I ever went to. And every homecoming. Basically just every dance.”

“And now you’re a chaperone,” she remarked. “At an elementary school one. I’d say you’ve grown up.”

“Oh, yeah.” A few years ago, if someone had told him he ever would have volunteered to go to one of these things, he’d have said they were crazy. But times changed.

“Well, the good news is, we won’t have to worry about spiked punch here,” Vanessa said. “It should be a pretty easy night. Just let me know if you see anything getting out of control, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Thanks.” She slipped away when a very young little girl called out to her from the dance floor. She was sitting down, trying to tie her shoes but really having no luck. So Vanessa bent down to help her. Yeah, that would be the extent of drama at tonight’s dance: untied shoes.

Michael’s attention drifted to the front entrance almost on instinct, just in time to see the most recent arrivals walk in. Maria and Dylan. He had on a little suit and everything, and he looked adorable . . . but Michael couldn’t take his eyes off Maria. She was dressed casually enough in jeans and a white, long-sleeved shirt, but she just looked . . . amazing. In every sense of the word.

This is getting out of control, he thought. But even so, he didn’t look away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was hard for Maria to tell who was more excited about this dance, herself or Dylan. He, of course, was acting like it was no big deal, yet he’d checked his hair in the mirror twenty times before leaving. She, meanwhile, couldn’t get over the fact that her little boy was having his first ever school dance. She’d gotten plenty of pictures of him at home, and she planned on snapping plenty more while he was with his friends tonight.

“Well, this looks fun,” she remarked, kneeling down in front of him. “Oh, look at you,” she cooed, adjusting his little black suit jacket. “You look so cute.”

“I don’t wanna look cute,” he complained for the umpteenth time that night. “I wanna look handsome.”

“You do look handsome. And cute. All at once,” she assured him, getting a kick out of how seriously he was taking this. Obviously he was a man on a mission tonight. “Trust me, every girl’s gonna wanna dance with you.”

He wrinkled his nose up. “Girls are gross.”

“Hey, I’m a girl.”

“No, you’re not. You’re my mom.”

“Okay, just get on out there,” she said, giving him a gentle push towards the dance floor. “Have a good time.” She watched adoringly as he shuffled out to his group of friends, mostly the other kids who played sports. It was all very gender segregated right now, boys on one side of the dance floor, girls on the other. And right now the girls were the only ones doing any dancing. They’d start intermingling soon enough, though. And hopefully once they did, Dylan would work up the nerve to ask a certain someone to dance. They’d practiced that at home.

Once Dylan had started socializing with his friends, Maria looked around for her own friends to socialize with. There were plenty of other moms and dads there, but if she was being honest with herself, there was really only one person she cared to be around tonight. And he was standing by the food table, his eyes on her.

Her breath hitched momentarily. God, he looked . . .

Enticing. There really was no other word for it.

I hope I look okay, she thought, pulling down slightly on her shirt. She didn’t have much in the way of cleavage, but this shirt was a very structured V-neck, so it definitely accentuated what was there. She made her way over to him, subtly pulling out her necklace. The music symbol one he’d given her for her birthday.

“Hey,” she said, feeling . . . sort of lame and ridiculous. Because who did this? Honestly, what twenty-two year old woman got all giddy and excited about seeing a boy at a dance?

“Hey,” he returned.

She leaned back against the table, hoping he noticed her necklace. “So you decided to come.”

“Yeah.” It might have just been her imagination, but she felt like his eyes were lingering on her. “You look nice,” he said.

“Thanks.” It was always good to hear that . . . especially from him. When he said it, it just mattered more somehow. Maybe because he had so many other nice-looking women in his life.

“So I see Dylan’s all dressed up,” he remarked, looking out onto the dance floor. He waved at Dylan, and Dylan smiled hugely at him and waved right back.

“He wants to look good for Emily,” she explained. “They have a crush on each other.”

“A crush, huh?” He grinned. “Well, maybe they’ll dance together.”

For some reason, when he said that, all she could think about was dancing with him. “Maybe.” Dancing wasn’t just a casual thing, not even at Dylan’s age. There was something so romantic about it, and when you were older, it was almost . . . intimate.

Gearing her mind back to an appropriate topic of conversation, she cleared her throat. “So do any of these kids know they’re in the presence of royalty tonight?” she joked. When he shot her a confused look, she clarified, “Snowball king.”

“Oh.” He chuckled. “No, no, they don’t.” He kept his eyes on the kids, who were starting to move a little more now, but his face took on his sort of dazed, wistful look. She wondered if he was starting to think about the past just as much as she was, all their memories. Turning his head to look at her, he said, “That was a . . . big night for us.”

She gulped nodding. “Yeah.” It hadn’t been their first kiss, nor their first time, but still . . . the memory of that night was permanently embedded in her brain.

She let her mind wander back in time, back to the night when he’d slipped away from a dance like this just to meet up with her. The two of them, alone in a dark hallway, arms around each other, swaying to the music before his lips were on her neck . . .

She shuddered, jerking herself out of the memory. Oh god. Oh god.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Ooh, look, Scarlet! Some new books!” Liz exclaimed as she unwrapped Scarlet’s next birthday present for her. “Grandma and Grandpa want us to do some reading.”

Liz’s mom moved in closer to Scarlet’s high chair, which Scarlet kept trying to crawl out of. “Get a picture, Jeff,” she told her husband. She leaned in on one side of Scarlet, and Liz leaned in on the other, holding up the books while her father scooted back to take the picture.

Beside him, Max’s mom reached over and squeezed his arms. “She’s so beautiful, Max,” she said. “Just such a beautiful little girl.”

“I know,” he said, whipping out his phone so he could take a few more pictures of his own. “I love her a lot.” Hopefully she’d always know that, even when she was old enough to go over to her friends’ houses and see that they most likely had both a mom and a dad living there. He was always going to be a part of her life, even if he couldn’t tuck her in every single night.

“You’re a good father to her,” his mom said proudly.

“Thanks.” That’d been the goal all along, to do things right with her, not mess things up like he had with Dylan.

Speaking of Dylan . . .

He checked his messages and saw that Maria had sent him a few photos of Dylan all dressed up in his suit. In one picture he had on a black fedora and shades. Hopefully he hadn’t worn those to the dance, because he looked like a Jay-Z wannabe.

“Hey, Max?” Liz called. “Can you help me get that Barbie car? It’s in the back.”

“Sure.” He put his phone away and followed her to the back room of her bakery, where she stored pretty much anything and everything she needed to run her business. The box they needed to carry out sat in the middle of the room, and it was huge. Surely it wasn’t that heavy, but it was so massive that Max wasn’t even sure he could get a good grip on it.

“Are we sure this isn’t a real car?” he joked.

She laughed. “It might be.”

“Jesus.” He nudged it with his foot, and it moved easily. If he could just balance it in his arms, he’d be able to haul it out there no problem.

“Thanks for being here tonight, Max,” she said suddenly.

“Hey, it’s my daughter’s birthday. Where else would I be?”

“Maybe at your son’s first dance,” she said. “I know you hate to have to miss it.”

He sighed, admitting, “I do wish I could be at both.”

“Well, why don’t you stop over there for a bit and then come back?” she suggested. “I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” He really did want to check in on how things were going with Dylan, but he didn’t want her to feel like he was abandoning her.

“Yes, go ahead,” she urged. “We won’t do the cake until you get back.”

He wasn’t going to need any more convincing than that. Leave it to Liz to be incredibly understanding. “Alright. Thanks, Liz.” He smiled at her and then bent down to lift the massive Barbie car up, but as soon as he had his hands on it, it slipped out of his grasp and fell onto her toes.

“Ow!” she yelped, jumping backward.

“You okay?” he asked. But she’d already started laughing, so he laughed, too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Damn, these kids can eat, Michael thought as he restocked the food table for what felt like the thousandth time. Somehow, he’d found himself in charge of that tonight, and it was an exhausting job. Once the food ran out, maybe they’d all start to crash, because right now, they were high energy. As more and more kids showed up, the amount of them who got out there and danced increased. It wasn’t dancing so much as it was a lot of jumping around and making fools of themselves, but at least they were all having fun.

“Hey, Mr. Guerin,” a little girl he didn’t recognize said to him. It took him a moment to even register that he was supposed to respond, just because he was so unused to being called Mr. Guerin.

“Hey,” he said, barely even noticing the little shrimp of a kid the girl was holding hands with.

“Hey, Coach,” Melvin squeaked out. Michael hadn’t seen him much since football season.

“Hey, Melvin, what’s up?” Michael got a good chuckle out of seeing him apparently with a date. They didn’t say anything else to him. It was just back out to the dance floor, where Melvin had absolutely no rhythm whatsoever.

Michael scanned the crowd of kids for Dylan and was able to locate him relatively quickly. While many of them were clumping up towards the middle of the floor, he and Luke and a few other guys were hanging out on the outside of the circle more so they had more room to move around. Luke was doing a handstand that Michael found to be pretty damn impressive, and apparently some of the kindergarten girls thought so, too, because there were a lot of high-pitched squeals coming from that direction. Dylan tried to do one, too, but he didn’t quite know how, so he ended up falling on his face. He got right back up, though, and laughed it off like the stud he was.

Wondering if Maria was seeing all of this, Michael looked around for her. And when he found her . . . he wished he hadn’t. Because she was definitely watching, but she wasn’t alone now. Max was there, standing beside her, his arm around her. There they were, a mom and a dad watching their son . . . and there Michael was, just watching them.

For some reason, it felt like it would be the worst thing ever if Max stuck around, so Michael stood back in the shadows, hoping he’d leave any second. A few minutes passed, and he didn’t go anywhere. He took pictures of Dylan, said a few things to Maria, and then he even bent down and kissed her.

Michael had to look away.

The good news was that, after that, he left. Apparently it was just a drop-in, because just like that, he was gone again, and Maria was walking back towards the food table.

“Looks like Dylan’s having fun,” Michael remarked.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “He was a little nervous about all the dancing, but Max tried to show him a few moves.”

He grunted skeptically. “Max has moves?”

“Yeah, he’s actually a good dancer.”

“Whatever,” Michael grumbled, rolling his eyes. As far as he was concerned, the only thing Max was good at was doing drugs. And kidnapping his own son, of course.

The current song ended, and a slower, more melodic one kicked on. Many of the kids groaned and started to leave the dance floor, but Michael knew this was Dylan’s opportunity. “Ooh, here we go. Slow song,” he said, watching intently as Dylan took a few steps towards a group of girls, then a few right back. “Make your move, man.”

“He’s shy,” Maria said.

“He’s not shy; he’s just nervous.” It didn’t matter how old you were. There was something about asking a girl to dance that was downright terrifying. “He’ll get over it, though,” he promised, silently rooting Dylan on as he worked up the courage to approach the girls. “Watch. He’s gonna ask her.”

Maria leaned in to get a better look. “Do you think she’ll say yes?”

“Oh, yeah. She likes him.”

Dylan had his hands in his pockets and his head down, but apparently he got the question out, because one girl with long brown hair beamed at him and threw her arms around him. “And there we go,” he narrated. Just like that, they were slow-dancing. Probably the first slow dance either one of them had ever had in their lives.

“Oh my god, I have to get a picture,” Maria squealed, whipping out her phone. “Too cute.” Michael wanted to do the same, but . . . he sort of felt like he couldn’t. After all, it wasn’t his kid out there. Maybe she’d be willing to send them to him. Maybe that wouldn’t be too much to ask.

“That could be your future daughter-in-law right there for all you know,” he said, just to freak Maria out.

“Let’s not think too far ahead here,” she cautioned, putting her phone away.

“Hey, you never know.”

She sighed contentedly, a look of happiness on her face as she watched her son. “I guess anything’s possible.”

Michael watched her, though, completely mesmerized. Yeah, he thought, anything is.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sarah rolled one sheer black nylon stocking up her leg and let it snap into place around mid-thigh. Then she did the same to the other leg. When she was done, she took a step back from the mirror and posed with one hand on her hip. Yeah, tonight’s lingerie was ridiculously over the top. Along with the stockings, she had on a black strapless bustier bra and lacy black boy shorts that showed off plenty of cheeks. It was probably kind of a slutty look, but wearing it for Michael didn’t make her feel slutty at all; it made her feel sexy.

She smirked at her reflection, pleased with what she saw. Maybe she didn’t have the body of Isabel Evans, but Michael never seemed to complain.

Missing him, she picked her phone up off the bed and sent him a quick text, just so he knew she was thinking about him. can’t wait til u get home!!! She tossed her phone back onto the bed then and spun around to look at herself in the mirror again. Smoothing her hands down her sides, she felt confident. The look was definitely risqué. Michael would love it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Can’t wait ‘til I get home? Michael thought as he read the text Sarah had sent him. She was always so happy to see him, to spend time with him, and lately, he wondered why. It wasn’t as though he’d been a ball of fun lately. He’d been distracted by . . . things.

He put his phone away and continued to pick up trash. The other chaperones had vacated, but Maria was coming back to help clean up after she sent Dylan on his way for the evening. Vanessa and the principal were both still there, too, of course, but they had to stay outside with the kids until each one of them had been picked up by an adult.

“Okay, I’m officially a good mom,” Maria proclaimed proudly as she came back into the cafeteria. “I’m letting Dylan go over to Luke’s house tonight.”

Michael smirked. “A really good mom would let him go over to Emily’s.”

“Uh, yeah, not gonna happen,” she said, shooting down that idea quickly. She looked around, and upon noticing it was just the two of them, groaned. “Did all the other chaperones leave?”

“Yep. Guess that leaves us with the clean-up.”

“Jerks,” she muttered, grabbing a trash bag. She started to go around from table to table, sliding empty cups and plates into it.

He watched her, staring intently as she bent over to retrieve some trash from under a table. That was definitely a nice view.

“You know, it’s actually not as messy as I thought it’d be,” she said, her back towards him. “I thought it’d be a lot worse.”

“Yeah.” He knotted up the gigantic trash bag in his hand and set it down, bored with the clean-up. It just seemed like such a waste to spend this time alone with Maria picking up trash. So he made his way behind the table where the principal’s laptop was still set up, still connected to the sound system, and he quickly got onto Youtube.

“I told Dylan to clean up after himself, though,” she went on, her back still facing him. “I hope he did.”

Thinking quickly, Michael typed in a song he knew she would like.

“I really hope I’m not picking up his trash,” she mumbled, bending down again. “ ‘cause that would just mean he didn’t listen.”

“Wanna dance?” Michael blurted suddenly.

She whirled around, this surprised look on her face. “What?”

His heart started to beat faster, and he wondered if this was what Dylan had felt like when he was asking Emily. “You wanna dance with me?”

For a second or two, she was just wordless, and when she did speak, all she said was, “There’s no music.”

He grinned, thinking to himself, I can fix that. He clicked on the video that he wanted, and thankfully, there was no ad. The music just started to play.

( :) )

Her whole face lit up, and she got that familiar wondrous look in her eyes when she recognized the song. It was a cover version of ‘Wild Horses’ by the Rolling Stones. She’d played it on her guitar for him once, and he hadn’t forgotten.

“I love this song,” she said quietly, a soft smile on her lips.

It wasn’t his typical type of music by any means, but he loved that she loved it. So he made his way over to her and held out his hand, silently inviting her to take it and step out on the dance floor with him. She looked reluctant, though, of course, like she was mentally debating whether or not it was the right thing to do.

“Come on,” he urged, not caring if it was right or wrong. He just wanted to have her in his arms, just for a few minutes.

She was definitely hesitant, though finally her resistance gave in. She set the trash bag down and put her hand in his, allowing him to lead her out onto the dance floor. He kicked aside half-deflated balloons and fallen streamers and cleared a small space for them, hoping she wouldn’t dance too far away from him. He wanted to be close.

She put her left hand on his shoulder and didn’t even flinch when he put his right one on her waist. They kept their other hands out to the side, and instinctively, he interlaced his fingers with hers. She felt too distant, though, so he pulled her a bit closer, sliding his hand across the small of her back.

God, she smelled so good, he could barely handle it.

For whatever reason, whether it was because she was self-conscious or because her heart was pounding just as hard as his was, she didn’t look at him. Instead, she looked down at their feet, the way many of these kids tonight had done when they danced together.

“This brings back memories,” he said, tentatively rubbing her back.

“Of prom?” she asked quietly. “Or the snowball dance?”

“Both.” They’d been completely different dances, on account of Isabel being his date to one of them and Maria to the other. But the common factor was that he’d been thinking about her the whole time at both of them. “That snowball dance . . .” he said, moving in closer so that he could feel her chest against his, press the side of his face against her hair. “That was one of the most exhilarating nights of my life.”

He felt her shudder and heard her breathe in sharply. “Mine, too,” she managed to gasp.

Closing his eyes, he let himself remember what it had been like to touch her that night, to kiss her. “I couldn’t keep my hands off you,” he said, well aware that one of his hands was growing evermore daring even right now. He kept letting it slide lower and lower, trying to subtly inch the back of her shirt up.

She didn’t exactly pull away, but she didn’t get lost in the reminiscence the same way he did, either. In fact, somehow she seemed able to carry on a rational conversation as she tilted her head back and looked up at him curiously. “So . . .” she said, “what song are you and Sarah gonna dance to at your wedding?”

He winced inwardly, wishing she wouldn’t mention that, anything about it. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

“Maybe this one?” she suggested.

He shook his head, knowing that wouldn’t be possible now that he was dancing to it with her. “No.”

“No?” Her bottom lip trembled, and he swore he could see tears in her eyes. Like it broke her heart just thinking about it.

He pressed harder against her back, wanting her to get as close to him as possible. And she did. She moved in so close that she could even rest her cheek against his chest, and he could lean down and breathe in the scent of her. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Maria,” he confessed as his fingers traced small circles on her skin, right at the spot where he knew that tattoo of hers was.

She tensed, and their dancing slowed.

“What if I made a mistake?” he wondered, his breath rustling her hair.

She tensed up even more, and her feet stopped moving. So he stopped moving, too, and suddenly, he was just standing there with her, holding her in his arms, trying to think of any way it would be possible for him to let her go.

The music continued to play as she lifted her head and looked up at him, her face mere inches away from his own. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes, and for a second, he thought he was going to do it. He was going to kiss her. And it would be the best kiss of her life. And his.

He didn’t get the chance, though, because Vanessa came back inside. “Michael, can you help me . . .” She trailed off abruptly when she walked up on the two of them.

Maria backed away quickly, letting go of his hand, and pulling her shirt down in the back. Déjà vu, he thought, wondering just how much Vanessa had seen. Three years ago, a different guidance counselor had walked up on them dancing together, very intensely in their own moment, and Maria had gotten nervous then, too.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go,” she said apologetically, scurrying past Vanessa. She stopped on the way out and turned back around, though. “But thanks for doing this for the kids tonight,” she added.

Vanessa nodded wordlessly. Skeptically.

Michael stared at Maria pleadingly, wanting her to stick around. Maybe she could wait for him out in the parking lot. Or they could go somewhere and just talk. Or . . . no, they could just talk. Even that was fine with him. He just had to figure some stuff out.

She cast one quick glance back at him, but that was it, and he knew she’d be heading straight home. She’d get in bed with Max tonight, and he’d get in bed with Sarah. But the difference was that she’d try to forget tonight had happened. He wouldn’t, because in its own way, it’d been just as exhilarating as that snowball dance had been.

When Maria was gone and it was just him and Vanessa left there, the concern was evident in her eyes. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew she’d just interrupted . . . something.

He probably needed some guidance right about now. But he wasn’t going to talk to her about it. So instead, he picked up his trash bag again and got right back to work.








TBC . . .

-April
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LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
keepsmiling7
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 57, 01/15/17

Post by keepsmiling7 »

This is getting more and more complicated.
Max was a good father to be at Scarlet's birthday, and then Liz told him to check in on Dylan's dance.
I keep waiting for an explosion....but none so far.
And Sarah has a surprise for Michael.
Thanks,
Carolyn
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 57, 01/15/17

Post by sarammlover »

michael and maria are KILLING ME!!!!! UGH! They needs to stop dancing (ha ha) around this and make some seriously hard decisions. This is getting crazy complicated and not good for anyone. NO ONE!
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April
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Part 58

Post by April »

Carolyn:
Max was a good father to be at Scarlet's birthday, and then Liz told him to check in on Dylan's dance.
He really is doing his best to be a good father to both of them. And he really does love them both a lot.
I keep waiting for an explosion....but none so far.
Well . . . that could change.


Sara:
michael and maria are KILLING ME!!!!! UGH! They needs to stop dancing (ha ha) around this and make some seriously hard decisions.
:lol: Nice pun! But yes, you're right. Obviously they both still feel something, and obviously they are not blind to each other's feelings. The connection is still there, and it's still strong, and it's going to end up hurting people. There's no way to avoid that.


Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!

This is a really big part of the story, accompanied by a really big song called "Hurricane" by 30 Seconds to Mars. You can listen to it here or click on :shock: when you see it. It's an intense and dramatic tune, and I love it.

On we go!









Part 58








Maria barely managed any sleep that night. She tossed and turned and felt bad about it, because she knew she must have been making it hard for Max to get any rest. He even reached over to touch her leg and ask her if she was okay a one point.

She wasn’t okay. But she told him she was fine.

After drifting in and out of sleep for nearly seven hours, she finally just got up, figuring it was a lost cause. What good did it do to close her eyes when all she saw then was Michael? Michael’s face mere inches from her own, Michael’s lips mumbling something, something about making a mistake.

God, I’m such an idiot, she thought as she got undressed and climbed into the shower. I never should have danced with him. It’d been an incredibly stupid thing to do, and she regretted it. She really did.

Except . . . she kept thinking about it. In fact, she couldn’t stop. The harder she tried, the more she got lost in the phantom feeling of his hand on her waist, his fingertips brushing lightly against the skin on her back. The memory sent a shiver up her spine, even as the showerhead poured warm water down onto her.

She tried—she really did—to push the thoughts from her mind, but they just wouldn’t go. Having his hands on her tonight had been a total rush, and undeniably, she wanted more.

She needed more. Right now.

Just as she used to do back when she’d been the crushed out homeless girl crashing at his house, she snaked her hand down her stomach to settled in between her legs. She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and touched herself intimately, trying to replicate the way it felt when he did it. It’d been years, but she still remembered exactly what it felt like, and no matter how hard she tried . . . she just couldn’t get it to feel quite as good.

It definitely didn’t feel horrible, though. There was so much tension and passion piling up inside her. She just had to release it. And with the help of her own hand, she did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!”

Michael groaned when Sarah jumped onto the bed, landing halfway on top of him.

Giggling, she apologized, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“That’s okay.” He yawned and stretched out his arms and legs, wondering if it was as early as it felt to him. It was hard to tell with Sarah. Sometimes she’d sleep in until 10:00 with him on Saturdays. Other times, she’d literally set her alarm so she didn’t waste too much of the day.

“Are you still tired?” she asked him.

He nodded sleepily, although . . . he wasn’t sure. There was a definite difference between tired and being lazy. Right now, he felt like he was more of the latter. Like all he wanted to do today was lie around and . . . maybe think. Or try not to think. Whichever one made him feel less guilty about asking Maria to dance last night.

Maria. The moment he thought of her, his eyes opened fully, and he felt . . . alert. He glanced down and noticed a slight bulge underneath the covers. Yeah, he’d definitely been having one of those dreams. Hopefully Sarah wouldn’t notice.

“Well, you should rest today,” she suggested, snuggling up beside him. “You’ll have the place to yourself. I think I’m gonna go spend some time with my parents this weekend.”

“Oh, yeah?” He yawned again, wondering if that was a subtle hint for him to go along with her. “Just missin’ ‘em?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “Well, I mean . . . yeah, I guess I always miss them. But it’s actually my grandma’s eightieth birthday. I really should be there to celebrate.”

“Sure,” he agreed. It didn’t exactly sound like the social event of the season, but he figured he should at least offer to tag along. He was her fiancé, after all. “You want me to go?” he asked.

“No, you don’t have to,” she assured him. “I know you still need to get caught up on schoolwork.”

True, he did. But that most likely wasn’t going to happen. Not this weekend. Maybe not even the next. He was finding it hard to feel motivated lately.

“Besides, I think my mom kind of likes the thought of having some mother/daughter time,” she added. “Not that she has anything against you or anything. It’s just that . . . you know, now that we’re engaged, I think it’s hitting her that I’m really not a little girl anymore.”

“Yeah.” He supposed he understood how the whole thing could be a little bittersweet for a parent. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Sarah would make the most of this weekend with them. There would be a lot of talk about the wedding, surely. Surely.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t want to be there for that.

“So when are you leavin’?” he asked her.

“Before noon probably. I got a bag packed last night. Before you came home and completely ignored me,” she said, pouting exaggeratedly.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you,” he assured her. “I was exhausted.”

“Well, clearly.”

He sighed, feeling like he’d hurt her feelings. She’d gotten all dressed up in some sexy new lingerie last night, and he’d barely even laid a hand on her. Because all he could think about was having his hands on Maria, and she had no idea.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“It’s fine,” she said before hinting, “You know, I do think you have a little time to make it up to me, though.”

“Oh, do I?” His head really wasn’t in the right space for this.

“Yeah.” She reached down beneath the covers, gently massaging the morning hard-on he’d planned to slip into the bathroom to relieve, and he knew there was probably no way out of this.

What the hell’s wrong with me? he wondered. Most guys would kill to be in his position, and here he was looking for an escape route so he didn’t have to have sex with his incredibly hot, incredibly wonderful girlfriend?

God, he was a piece of work.

Don’t think about Maria, he coached himself as he moved in closer to Sarah and kissed her. But from the moment their mouths touched . . .

Dammit. Maria was the only thing on his mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael gently pulled on Shango’s leash, trying to get his attention off a half-dead bush and onto the task at hand: doing his business so they could go back inside. And sulk. Today was definitely a sulking day.

He frowned, wishing he hadn’t slept with Sarah this morning. She deserved better. She deserved a guy who was thinking only about her while he was inside her.

He winced when he thought of the things she’d said to him mere hours ago, the way she’d whispered her love for him into his ear while he thrust his hips forward. Pathetically, he hadn’t even been able to even say it back this time. And it wasn’t her fault. She’d done everything right. He was the one who was screwing things up. It was all his fault.

He swallowed hard and yanked on Shango’s leash again, a bit more forcefully this time, as he started to sniff at the bush again.

As if on cue, as if his brain wasn’t jumbled up enough already, Maria came walking down the sidewalk, right towards him, like a woman on a mission. This didn’t look like a friendly visit.

“You workin’ today?” he asked her, looking down at his dog just so he didn’t have to look at her, didn’t have to notice the way her hair blew around her face in the breeze, didn’t have to notice the necklace she wore around her neck.

“Yeah,” she said, slowing down as she got closer to him.

“At Vidorra?”

“No, one of the dorms.”

He nodded, sighing impatiently as Shango continued to sniff around and do nothing.

“What about you?” she asked, sliding her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Are you . . . do you have plans with Sarah, or . . .”

He shook his head. “Nope.” He probably should have gone with her this weekend. She’d probably just been doing the nice girlfriend thing when she told him to stay home. “Actually, she’s driving home to Las Cruces right now to spend some time with her family,” he told Maria, feeling like he was a jerk for not going with her. He was just a jerk in general these days. “So I’m by myself this weekend.” Chancing a look over at her, he mumbled, “If you wanna drop by . . .”

An instant look of alarm flashed in her eyes. “No,” she said.

“No, you don’t want to?” That was probably for the best.

“No, I can’t,” she corrected.

Even though he understood exactly why it would have been a bad idea, and even though he hated feeling like a jerk . . . there was some guttural part of him that wanted to bring her up to his apartment and just . . . give in. “Why not?” he pressed.

She took her hands out of her pockets and folded her arms over her chest, mouth tightening, brows furrowing as she totally avoided answering the question, asking one of her own instead. “Michael, what did you mean last night, when you said you thought you made a mistake?”

“I didn’t say I thought I made a mistake; I said ‘What if I made a mistake?’” he reminded her.

“Okay, fine, so what did you mean?”

The wind howled around them as he looked her right in the eye. She was right there, so close, and yet for some reason, it seemed as if she were determined to keep herself away.

“Nothin’,” he muttered, clinging to the few shreds of determination he had left.

She was persistent, though. She growled, “Michael,” with such fervor and insistence that he knew she wouldn’t allow him to not answer.

Fuck it, he decided. She wanted to know. Hell, she probably already knew, so what she really wanted was for him to lie to her, lie and say he hadn’t meant anything by it at all. But he wasn’t about to do that. Lying was getting him nowhere.

The question had been there all along. All he had to do was ask it: “Maria, what if we’re meant to end up together?”

Her eyes got very wide very fast, almost instantly filling up with tears. Her mouth dropped open slightly, and she looked . . . stunned. Like she couldn’t believe he’d just said that out loud or something.

And then she turned and walked away at a brisk pace, nearly at a run. Seemed like she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Maybe that meant her own determination was vanishing. Or maybe, lately, she’d been wondering the same thing.

He didn’t bother to go after her, because something told him she’d be back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was a good thing there wasn’t much for Maria to do at work, because she couldn’t have done any of it if she’d tried. Her mind was so elsewhere that she spaced off during her entire shift, barely even paying attention as students filtered in and out of the building.

“What if we’re meant to end up together?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember why that wasn’t a possibility.

****

A content smile covered Max’s face as he rolled over onto his side and looked at her. She wondered what he was looking for. A smile of her own, maybe? It was there; it was just buried a little deeper inside than his was. Sleeping with him again was . . . strange. Because physically, it felt good, but emotionally . . . she felt like she’d betrayed Michael somehow. And she knew it was illogical to feel that way, but . . . she did.

“Does it scare you,” he asked softly, reaching over to caress her arm, “trusting me again?” His face took on a serious look, and she could tell he wanted an honest answer.

“A little,” she admitted. There was still a part of her that thought it best to be wary, cautious, even though she was already lying in bed naked with the guy. “Not as much as I thought it would, though.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“Because . . .” She turned over onto her side, trying to push Michael’s face out of her mind. She’d done a pretty good job of that during the sex itself, but now that they were doing the whole basking thing . . . it was harder. “I know you really have changed,” she said. “You’re a good man. It’s not just an act.”

Max smirked. “I’m a work in progress.”

“We all are,” she whispered, wondering how much work she would still need to do on herself. He was so concerned with being the type of man she deserved, but sometimes she doubted if she was the woman he deserved. He and Liz had a daughter now. He’d probably be way better off with her, with someone whose heart had room for him. And only him.

“Do you think maybe we’re meant to end up together, though?” Max asked. “I mean, do you think it’s possible?”

Anything was possible, she supposed. She and Max did have quite a story, after all. Maybe this was the chapter that would push it towards a happy ending. “Maybe,” she squeaked out, wondering what chapter Michael’s story was on nowadays. Did he have another girlfriend? Would he ever? Would he fall in love with her?

“I guess we’ll see, huh?” he said, touching her cheek with the back of his hand. He looked so hopeful. He sounded so hopeful.

Thinking about Michael was hopeless, so she managed a small smile of her own, trying to sound reassuring when she said, “Yeah. We’ll see.” But in her heart, she couldn’t help but worry. Even though Max had become a good man, she just had a feeling that the only reason she might be meant to end up with him was if Michael was meant to end up with someone else.


****

“Maria?”

Maria snapped herself out of her daze and looked up. There beside her stood Spencer, ready to take over the shift. Work was over. Hours had passed.

She didn’t even bother saying hi to him, or goodbye, or anything. She grabbed her purse, stood up, and bolted out of there with one destination in mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The refrigerator was stocked with plenty of leftovers, so Michael wouldn’t have to worry about being hungry this weekend. Even when she wasn’t there, Sarah was taking care of him.

He took out a small bowl of chicken cordon blue casserole and took off the lid. Yeah, that had tasted good a few nights ago. It’d work for tonight, too.

Before he could put it in the microwave, there was a loud knock on the door. Almost instinctively, he knew it was Maria. Who else would be that pissed at him right now to knock that loudly? It was an angry knock.

Here we go, he thought, opening the door.

“I need to talk to you,” she blurted, pushing right past him as she came inside.

“Okay.” Whatever this conversation amounted to, he preferred it to having her just walk away. “About what?”

She threw her purse down on the couch and spun around heatedly. “What do you think?” she snapped. “You can’t just—you can’t just say something like that, Michael. ‘Oh, what if we’re meant to be together?’ Why would you say that? Why would you even think it?”

He shut the door, trying to keep his own voice level and calm as he challenged, “Are you tellin’ me you haven’t wondered the same thing?”

She hesitated for a moment, just a second, but it was enough to give her away. “No, I haven’t.”

Like hell you haven’t, he thought. It was so obvious on so many levels. “That’s a lie.”

“I’m not lying!” she roared. “God, you are so annoying!”

“Then leave,” he suggested. It was a simple solution, and it would probably keep him from saying a whole lot of things he shouldn’t. “I’m serious, Maria, if I’m such a pain in the ass, then leave. I didn’t ask you to come up here.”

“No, you pretty much did,” she argued.

“I said you could drop by. Like to hang out, not to yell at me.”

“I’m not yelling!” she . . . well, yelled. “I just think . . .” She stopped and took a breath as if to try to steady herself. “Look, things have gotten kind of . . . complicated recently, and I just think we need to straighten some things out. Maybe re-establish some boundaries. Because last night . . .” Her lower lip trembled, and it was a beautiful sight to see. “Last night, when we danced, Michael . . .” For a second, she dropped her guard, and he could see it in her eyes just how much that dance had meant to her. But seconds later, her walls were back up again, and she was angry. “That was just too close for comfort.”

“You weren’t comfortable?” He leaned back against the counter, grinning. “Or were you too comfortable?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like . . . flirty.”

He snorted nonchalantly. “Oh, please, I flirt with you all the time.”

“Well, it has to stop,” she declared decidedly, as if it were her decision and her decision alone to make. “It’s just . . . it’s not really appropriate, obviously, because you’re with Sarah and I’m with Max. And we need to respect them.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he muttered sarcastically. “I’ll never respect Max.”

“I don’t care.” Her eyes bore straight into his, and when she spoke again, her voice sounded like it was right there, just right on the edge, as if it were about to crack. “I’m with him, Michael. I’ve been with him longer than I was ever with you.”

That doesn’t matter, he thought. It wasn’t about the quantity of time you had with someone; it was about the quality of it.

“We have a son together,” she said pleadingly, almost as if she were begging him to understand and just leave it alone. “We have a really good life. And look at you. I mean, you have Sarah, and she’s . . . god, she’s practically perfect.”

She really was, wasn’t she? She had a beautiful interior to go with her beautiful exterior. She loved him more than anything in the world. And yet . . . there was just something missing.

“She’s not you, though,” he said quietly, just loudly enough for her to hear.

She made a face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Don’t play dumb, he thought, inching his way towards her. You’re not dumb. “You know what it means.”

She took a step back, running into the closed door. “Okay, no, we are not doing this,” she said, holding both hands up in front of herself, as if to shield herself or something. “We’re not having this conversation.”

“Sure we are.” He crept closer still, his blood pumping faster in his veins.

“No, we’re not.” Both her hands shot out against his chest, and she pushed him backwards a bit. “Sarah is your girlfriend. You’re in love with her. You’re gonna marry her. End of story.”

It didn’t feel like the end, though, not to him. It felt like the beginning.

“So forget about me,” she told him. “Don’t ask me to dance. Don’t punch out guys on my behalf. Don’t . . .” She tore off her necklace and threw it on the floor. “Don’t buy me birthday presents or wonder if we’re meant to be together, because we’re not. Okay?”

Oh, if only it were that simple. He wished it were that simple. “No,” was his response.

“What?” she gasped.

“No, it’s not okay,” he reiterated. “That’s not okay with me.”

Her whole face contorted with emotion, and she whimpered. “I left you.”

“Only ‘cause you felt like you had to, not ‘cause you wanted to,” he reminded her, stepping in close to her again. “And you said, ‘Maybe if things were different.’” He held his arms out to the sides. “Look around. Things are different. I’m different.”

A tear slipped out of the corner of her left eye.

“But not completely.” He gulped. It didn’t matter how much time passed, or how much time would pass. One thing would always remain the same. “Because I still love you.”

She groaned, “Oh, Michael . . .” and pushed past him. It wasn’t like there was anywhere she could go, though. It wasn’t a big apartment. So she just took a few steps in the other direction and then stopped, her shoulders slumping, her neck craned back.

“Don’t act like you’re upset,” he said. “You still love me, too; I know it.”

She spun around, eyes narrowed at him. “I love Max.”

“But you’re in love with me. Why the hell else would you still be here?”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Alright, say it then,” he urged. “Say you don’t love me.”

Her expression remained that of a glare, but despite her best efforts to keep her jaw clenched shut, her mouth was trembling.

“See?” He smirked, feeling like he’d just proved a point.

“I’m not gonna say that, Michael, because a part of me will always love you,” she said in a rush. “But that just doesn’t mean anything for us anymore.”

“Are you kidding? It means everything!” he spat.

“Oh, really?” she challenged. “Because last time I checked, you’re engaged to another woman! You used my ring to propose to her, remember? You’re gonna marry her, Michael. Do you not understand how big of a deal that is?”

“Of course I understand!” he yelled back. “Why do you think I’ve been such a fuckin’ mess lately? ‘cause I know it’s wrong, ‘cause I know it’s not what I want.”

“What do you want then?”

“I want you,” he blurted, as if it wasn’t obvious at this point. “I want all of you. I wanna be able to dance with you and not feel bad about it. I wanna tell you that I love you every single day. I wanna put my hands on you, ‘cause when I’m around you, my whole body feels like it’s on fire.”

“Well, fire burns,” she mumbled stubbornly.

“Yeah, so does passion.” They had passion. Hell, they probably had too much of it. At this point, it felt like it was going to burn him alive, but he didn’t even care. “When I first saw you on this campus, Maria, I literally couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he told her.

She shook her head as though she didn’t believe him, or maybe she just didn’t want to hear it.

“I’m serious, I walked out into the street and got hit by a car,” he revealed.

Her eyes widened in horror.

“No joke.” If that didn’t prove how utterly fascinated he was by her, then nothing could. “Oh, and this music class?” he added. “I don’t really need it. It doesn’t fulfill any fine arts credit. The only reason I took it and the only reason I’m still taking it is so I can be around you.”

“What?” she shrieked. She grabbed her hair with her hands, looking as though she were about to pull her hair out. “Are you—are you fucking serious, Michael?”

“Yeah.” As pathetic as it was . . .

“So you lied to me.” It wasn’t a question. Just more of a snarl.

“I’ve been lying, Maria, to everyone. To you, to Sarah, my friends, my family . . .” When he started to take stock of all the lies he’d told, whether they were big ones or small ones . . . it really was mind-blowing. And not in a good way. “I’ve been lying to myself for the past three years,” he said, letting that sink in. Subconsciously, he’d probably known it all along, but saying it out loud made it all the more real. “I kept telling myself I was over you, but I’m not, Maria. I’ll never be over you.” He closed the distance between them and reached out to put his hand on her cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the traces of tears that were there. “You’re the only girl I ever really wanted to marry. You’re the only girl I wanted to have kids with.” He smiled at her, hoping she’d be touched instead of outraged. “You’re the love of my life.”

Her tears started to fall faster, thoroughly coating her cheeks now. “Don’t say that, Michael.”

His smile fell. “Why not?”

She sniffed, taking a step back. “It just makes this really hard,” she whispered, drying her eyes.

Oh, fuck this, he thought. There was no way he was just going to stand there and let her pretend that it wasn’t all mutual. “You’re not honestly gonna act like I’m not the love of your life, too, right? ‘cause I know I am.”

“Fine, you’re the love of my life, too!” she cried. “I wanted to be your wife, and I wanted you to be Dylan’s dad—I wanted that more than anything—but we had our chance. We couldn’t make it work.”

He winced, knowing it was his fault. His carelessness, his immaturity . . . that was why he’d ended up jumping off that bridge that night, and that was why she’d ended up driving away a few days later.

“And we hurt people by being together, Michael,” she reminded him. “Look what we did to Isabel.”

He refused to accept responsibility for that one, though. “We didn’t do that,” he grumbled. The girl made her own choices.

“And Max . . .” She shook her head. “I am not gonna hurt him like that. He’s done so much for me. He changed his whole life around; he’s a completely different person.”

“Why don’t you stop thinking about Max?” Michael suggested.

“Why don’t you start thinking about Sarah?” she shot back.

“I can’t.” He’d already tried, but with her in the room . . . it was just impossible.

“You have to,” she insisted. “You have to think about her, Michael. You love her.”

“Not like I love you, though.” He leaned in closer.

“But you still love her,” she kept trying. “Doesn’t that matter to you?”

“No.” He kissed her. Abruptly. Without thinking. Without questioning. It felt like the right thing to do, and it felt like the wrong thing to do, all at once. So he did it.

As mad at him as she was, she kissed him back hungrily. Her hands gripped his waist, and his cupped her face as their mouths mated together. It felt as natural and electric now as it has three years ago. Almost as if no time had passed. As if they’d never been apart. He felt it in his gut, down his spine . . . all over. It was a hell of a kiss.

She broke it off suddenly, though, pulling away, taking a step back. Her eyes looked panicked when she warned, “You shouldn’t have done that, Michael.”

He tried to grab hold of her arm and pull her back as she walked past him, but she hurried out of there, slamming the door shut behind her. He knew he could run after her, catch her in no time. But what was the point? This was what Maria had done last time, and this was what she’d do this time, too. She’d want to act like it never happened, but she wouldn’t be able to. And it was only a matter of time before she came back for more.

I have to break up with Sarah before then, he thought. Things had taken a turn now. It wasn’t just an emotional affair anymore. He’d kissed another girl. He’d crossed a line, and now there was no going back.

Not that he wanted to.

As guilty as he felt . . . he wouldn’t give this feeling up for anything. One single kiss was all it took, and everything came crashing back. Every emotion, every desire . . . they’d never gone away, and now, after that, they were back full force.

Shit, he thought. Sarah was going to hate him. Either that or be way too kind and actually forgive him. But he didn’t want forgiveness. He wanted what had just walked out that door.

Sighing heavily, he looked down at Shango, who was curled up next to the TV, peering up at Michael with almost childlike eyes. Almost as if, even though he was just a dog, he understood that what had just happened had changed everything.

Before he even had a chance to think it over more, there was another knock on the door. It wasn’t a loud angry one, this time—quite the opposite, actually—but somehow, he still sensed it was her.

He took two steps towards the door and opened it, confused.

( :shock: )

“Forgot my purse,” she muttered, literally shoving past him. She stomped towards the couch to pick it up from where it still lay on the middle cushion.

Michael’s fingers itched.

His body still burned.

He couldn’t not.

When she turned spun back around, he was already there, pressed up against her as his mouth dove in for another sudden kiss. She dropped her purse onto the floor and nearly collapsed against him, her chest melding against his. Standing up on her tiptoes, she kissed him eagerly, holding nothing back. Her hands immediately found their way to the back of his neck, and his were on her sides at once, gripping her waist tightly. Their tongues fought for dominance, and his eventually won out before he left her mouth altogether and kissed a line messy kisses down the side of her neck.

Gasping, she craned her head back and threw her whole body up against his as he sucked ferociously on her skin. Soft. So soft. And she smelled so good.

Faintly recalling that the door was still open, he backed them up in the direction of it and shot out one hand to shut it. Then he spun her around and slammed her back against it, eliciting a wild moan. He ground his jean-clad pelvis against hers, letting her know exactly what he wanted. As if it wasn’t already obvious.

His larger frame surrounded hers as he braced one arm against the door next to her head, holding her hips in his place with his other hand. He stared at her intently while continuing to move his hips against hers, a silent but powerful hint as to what he had in store for her once they took their clothes off. She didn’t object at all, didn’t tell him to stop, didn’t even try to argue that they shouldn’t. Her expression had shifted, her eyes darkened to a point of raw passion. Her breathing was coming harder, and one of her hands tugged desperately at his shirt collar, as if she needed to feel some skin.

That worked for him.

Unable to resist another taste of her, he dipped his head and captured her lips between his again, appreciating the way she could kiss him back with equal fervor. When she wasn’t expecting it, he bent his knees, hooked one hand around her waist and the other underneath her ass, then hoisted her up into his arms. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck as he carried her over to the kitchen counter. He swiped one hand to send the bowl with his now forgotten leftovers falling onto the floor.

Once she was on the counter and he was standing directly in between her legs, the clothes had to go. His shirt was the first to go when he yanked it over his head, and she made sure her own was quick to follow. Her breasts rose up and down with each desperate breath, and greedily, he bent to kiss them. She must have been impatient, though, in no mood for foreplay, because she grabbed his head in both hands and lifted it, bringing his mouth up to hers again. As they kissed, her hands shot out to find his jeans. She unbuttoned them and pulled the zipper down quickly, her fingers momentarily grazing across his hardened dick. He wanted her to reach in there and touch him, and apparently she sensed that, because she did. Her right hand slid down the front of his pants, gripping his erection through his boxer briefs. He groaned at the sensation, because it felt so damn good. Almost too damn good. If she touched him like that too much, this whole thing would be over before it started.

No, he couldn’t have that. If he came before she did, then he’d need time to recover, and in that recovery time, she might back out, change her mind.

He needed to get her off first.

Insistently, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away. For a second, she looked confused. But when he lifted her arm above her head and pinned her wrist back against the cabinets, she grinned playfully instead.

My turn, he thought, letting go of her wrist. With one hand, he unbuttoned the top of her jeans, and with the other, he slid her zipper down. Her stomach muscles started to flutter and dance before his eyes with the sheer anticipation of it all.

Going slow wasn’t an option. He grabbed both sides of her jeans, and she lifted her hips up so he could remove them for her. He pulled them down roughly over the smooth, round globes of her ass, an ass he had wonderful memories of fucking. Surely she wouldn’t let him in there. Not this time. And that was fine, because when he got her pants and shoes off and tossed them aside, he was able to see how wet her miniscule panties were. She was soaking right through already, and he wondered when they’d gotten that way. When they’d started kissing? Or maybe from the second she’d walked in the door.

Oh god, he thought, pushing his jeans down to his knees before swooping her back up in his arms. I have to fuck her.

Once again she held onto him tightly, and they kissed fiercely as he stumbled around the dividing wall that separated his kitchen from his bedroom. It wasn’t a graceful journey to that bed by any means—in fact, he felt downright clumsy. He had to step out of his jeans on the way there, and that wasn’t easy. Hell, if he’d tripped and fallen, though, he would have just done her right there on the floor. But as fate would have it, he managed to get her to the bed.

He lay her down and then crawled on top of her, enjoying the feeling of his body enveloping hers. Smoothing his hands up and down her sides, remapping her curves for his memory, he kissed her a little longer before sitting back altogether on his knees, gazing down at her lasciviously. Her legs were already spread, and he was intoxicated by the familiar smell of her desire.

And there was no uncertainty in her eyes. Not the slightest trace of it.

Good girl. Unable to resist any longer, he grabbed the side of her thong with both hands and pulled hard, breaking it apart. She moaned excitedly, digging her head back into the pillow, her back arching up off the bed. He tore the other side of the thong, too, and once it was nothing more than a useless scrap of fabric, he flicked it aside.

There she was. There was his girl. The only piece of clothing left on her body now was the bra her breasts were practically begging to get out of, and he thought he’d leave that on. There was something strangely arousing about fucking a girl who wasn’t completely naked. It was like a reminder that neither he nor she could wait.

Hell, he’d waited for three years. Wasn’t that long enough?

Fear started to pulse through him as he removed his own underwear swiftly. The fear that she would back out at the last minute, that logic would kick in and get in the way of all the passion she was feeling. Completely unclothed then, he pumped his dick a few times, spreading around the pre-cum that had gathered at the tip. When she saw him do that, she slid her own hand down in between her legs to rub her clit with her middle finger. Normally he would have taken some time to do that for her, but what was the point? She was ready. He was ready. They wanted it.

He moved forward, using his knees to urge her legs open even further, and gripping the base of his shaft with one hand, he positioned himself at her entrance. Just to entice her, he traced the tip of it up and down her folds a few times. She groaned, as if she were frustrated, but the smile on her kiss-swollen lips told a different story.

Watching himself at her entrance, he wondered what it would feel like this time. Would it be like the first time all over again? Or even better? His mind started to go into overdrive as he contemplated how to maximize the pleasure. Maybe doggy style would be nice. It was his favorite position, after all, and seeing that tattoo of his initials while he pounded her wouldn’t hurt one bit.

She didn’t say his name, but she didn’t have to. One little whimper was all it took for him to stop thinking. He started to push inside, but then she surprised the hell out of him by slithering upward on the bed, out of his reach.

What the fuck? he thought, fearing the worst. Crap, he’d waited too long, hadn’t he? She’d changed her mind?

Instead of climbing out of bed, though, she got up onto her knees as well. With unexpected strength, she pushed his shoulders, getting him to lie down on his back. In one easy motion, she swung her leg over his body, maneuvering herself into the perfect straddle position. The base of her hands pressed hard into his chest, and his erect cock stuck right up against her backside. He didn’t quite know what to think of the change of position, since he tended to be a dominant force in bed, but he liked it. Maria had this devious, indecent look in her eyes that was too hard to resist.

As unusual as it was for him to surrender the control, he did just that, moving his arms out to his sides, making no move to touch her. Instead, he let her touch him. She reached behind herself to grip his length and stroke him from tip to base and back again. He let her, not worried about cumming anymore. No, the feeling of her wet, hot pussy sliding against his stomach motivated him. The knowledge that he would soon be inside there, fucking her senseless . . . that was all he needed to think about to hold out.

Eventually, her hand’s movements slowed, and that expression on her beautiful face shifted into something . . . more serious. No more teasing. This was it.

She scooted back slightly, her hips elevated as his throbbing cock stood at attention. He wrapped his hand around the base of it to hold it steady for her, but she literally swatted his hand away and gripped it herself. Eyes locked onto his, she waited for a few seconds, almost as if her mind was making an attempt to second-guess this whole thing. But it didn’t, because soon enough, she was lowering herself onto him, accepting his length as it slid into her. As if it was made to be there.

“Oh . . .” he groaned, closing his eyes for a moment. He didn’t want to—he wanted to watch—but the sensation was just too strong. He had to take a moment to collect himself.

Her breath fluttered out of her lungs from the moment he penetrated. When he opened his eyes again, he saw her head flung backward, eyes shut, face contorted in ecstasy. He understood the feeling. The warmth, the pressure . . . it was exquisite. He’d never felt anything else like it, and he knew he never would.

Smoothing his hands up her legs, he hoped she would start moving soon, because he wasn’t going to be able to resist. The simple touch must have wordlessly communicated his desire, and he wasn’t surprised—they’d never really needed words in bed. Moments later, she was moving up and down on him. It felt natural. In a way, it felt like no time had passed, and they were just two teenagers up in his bedroom again, trying to stay quiet.

Inside, he was screaming, though, and he had no doubt she was, too. She released it in the form of moans, sighs, and gasps, and he was more of a grunter himself. When he was sure he had enough control over what his body was doing, he glanced down, watching the glorious sight of her body surrounding his cock, sliding it in and out with ease. She was tight but so wet that there wasn’t any unwanted friction. The look on her face was one of pure pleasure.

Wanting to increase her pleasure, he started to raise his hips to meet hers, matching her pace, her steady rhythm. Eventually, he wanted to go faster, though, and he started to take over, pounding himself up into her more demandingly. She gasped and slumped forward a bit, head bent, hair curtaining her face as her body took everything he gave her. And he knew it could take more, too, which was why he made the move to reverse their positions. He sat up, careful to stay inside her, put his arms around her, and flipped her over onto her back. His dick came out of her for just a moment, but it was a moment too long. He quickly drove it back in, and then, on top of her, he continued to fuck her.

He got rougher, went harder. His thrusts became more jarring, causing her whole body to shake beneath him, making the headboard hit the wall. Her legs came up to wrap around him, her heels digging into his ass, urging him in deeper while her hands roamed his body. Fingernails bit into his skin, and sweat on her torso mixed with his. He held himself up with arms on either side of her head, pressing his forehead against hers, kissing her sporadically, frantically as they both panted for air. Normally, this was about the point when he would have slipped one hand down in between them to touch her, help get her off. But he sensed that this time, it wouldn’t even be necessary.

She was bound to cum, even before he started angling his thrusts in the perfect way to hit that special spot of hers. From the moment he did, though, she was a goner. Her eyes squeezed shut, and a gratified cry came from her mouth as an orgasm ripped through her body. He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down as her muscles quivered and contracted all around him. Yeah, he was close, too, but that seemed secondary at this point. It was all about her. It always had been.

He wanted to make her cum again.








TBC . . .

-April
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LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
keepsmiling7
Roswell Fanatic
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 58, 01/22/17

Post by keepsmiling7 »

Read this over there already........right now I want to stay out of the way of the train wreck that will soon happen.
Thanks,
Carolyn
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