- Text Size +

Chapter 22

 

I was enrolled back in college and hated it mostly. I hated not working, I hated going to lectures. I hated assignments, I hated essays and I hated meeting idiotic deadlines. One of my professors was a complete dickhead and was handing out text book readings like the book would expire by a certain date. My parents had been completely supportive, thank goodness. My Dad was helping me out with money while I was studying, it had always been part of our deal. He was happy for me to want to do well, which made him happy to support me while achieving my degree. This made me want to work extra hard.

 

I woke up to the feeling of Michael's lips wet against my neck. I smiled, my eyes remaining closed. I could smell the scent of his cocoa skin. I was still sleepy. "Five more minutes..." I muttered, trying to put off waking up. I hated mornings, especially when I had to go to a morning class. It generally went in one ear and out the other.

 

"Okay... five more minutes..." He agreed with a soft laugh. I knew he couldn't say no to me. I smiled with satisfaction and pulled the blanket up under my chin. He kissed me again, this time upon my lips and cheeks. I opened my eyes. It was so early. I knew that it had to have been around 6:30am. He ran his fingers through my hair and kissed me again. His face hovered over mine, his gentle eyes watching me with a small little adoring smile that I couldn't help but return, regardless of the ungodly hour in which he'd awoken me.

 

"I don't want to get up..." I pouted. I really didn't. I wanted to hug up against Michael and spend all morning sleeping in under the warm covers. "I want to skip class and stay in bed." I confessed.

 

He laughed. "Your parents would think I'm a horrible influence." He remarked.

 

Mom loved Michael. I had taken him to meet her a couple of days after I met Katherine. She adored him. He charmed her and had no problems talking to her. He wasn't shy at all, not even a little bit like he'd been with my Dad. I suppose that anyone would be shy after being walked in on, taking a leak. Dad liked Michael a lot too. It pleased me so much that they liked him. We all sat around and played scrabble together at Mom's place after dinner. It was sweet and cosy and I knew Michael had really enjoyed himself.

 

"Yeah right. My parents think you can walk on water." I joked, giving a sigh. I was seriously considering not going in to classes. I'd catch up through the week. "What are you doing today?" I wondered.

 

"Staying home with you, should you decide, independently I might add, without my opinion to stay home."

 

I laughed. "Are you really not busy?" I didn't want to keep him from his work. "If you are, you shouldn't take any time away."

 

He smiled. "I've worked for the past seven days and I was in New York the week before that, we've hardly spent any time together."

 

It was true, Michael had been so busy lately. I'd been studying pretty hard and the only time we had the chance to get any quality time together was when he got home late at night and we'd settle in bed together. It was a bit frustrating, but I understood his position. "We could lie here together, pig out, watch a movie, order a pizza..."

 

I grinned. "It sounds like a perfect idea." I had fallen so hard and so fast for Michael, sometimes it was hard for me to believe that only a few months earlier I was so cold and alone and wanted nothing from anyone. In fact, I was so harsh and abrupt with everyone around me that I could see with hindsight I could see why nobody liked me or wanted to be around me. There was a huge part of me that hated being one half of a couple. I was still fairly selfish and hard to get along with and so compromising and actually being happy with the result was difficult. Sometimes I felt no control over my life while I was with Michael. I had no control over my emotions, no control over the level of affection I kept reminding myself not to smother him with. I was used to being such a control freak, I was not used to trusting anyone with anything.

 

I had moments where my conscience would scream at me, What are you doing?? You're becoming everything that you hate! Get out of this now! Fear and panic would take over, but I knew it was stupid. In fact, whenever that occurred, I would explain it to Michael, and he would console me that everything between us was perfect, and if it wasn't we could talk about it and repair it-- a single argument or a fight, or even a wrong impression didn't ever have to mean the end of us. I'm glad he was so understanding, or else what we had would have ended before it even began.

 

So far, so good. No serious arguments or fights had occurred. I knew it would happen eventually. We were practically living together -- so much for taking things slowly. Despite the fact I was at his place all of the time, we weren't really seeing too much of each other. He was always busy. We tried to make plans to spend at least one full day together per week, and eat dinner together as often as possible, but unfortunately that wasn't all that often. I enjoyed bedtime and waking up, because we always got to have a little quality time together then, unless he was away.

 

Michael loved me. I was certain of that. He did sweet little things for me all of the time. While he was in New York he had left a pink hand-made oragami heart on the fridge with a sweet message that said, "I love you because you are so honest, caring, and warm-hearted." I took it off the fridge and kept it and as they days had progressed, I found more of them with other messages like, "You're so unique and special. I've never met anyone like you.", "I love you because you're beautiful.", "You have the prettiest eyes I've ever looked in to." He wasn't going to let me forget in how much he felt for me in a hurry. And I was okay with that.

 

When Michael had been in London he'd bought me back a beautiful crystal figure of London Bridge which I loved so much. When he was in New York, he bought me another, but this time it was of the Statue Of Liberty. They were so beautiful and so expensive looking. I treasured his gifts so much, whether they were home made or from a ridiculously priced boutique.

 

I tried my hand at leaving him a few little notes as well, but unfortunately I always felt as though my own feelings spoken out loud, or written down seemed insincere, even if I knew they weren't. Michael assured me that it wasn't the case. I was doing my best anyway, I was getting much better at showing my emotions and communicating my feelings.

 

I had Michael to thank for all of this.

 

**

 

We had absolutely no intentions of changing out of our pajamas. I pulled a pair of socks on and sailed my way to the living room right behind Michael sliding on the granite beneath our covered feet. "Who am I?" I asked with a stupid smile, sliding backwards toward the couch, as if I were moon walking.

 

"Oh wow, you're so talented, you must have learned from the master." He grinned cheekily, dropping a blanket on to the long four-seater couch. I laughed and tossed two pillows down on top of it.

 

"Breakfast?" He suggested. "Cornflakes? Cheerios? Toast? Chocolate?"

 

"I love the idea of chocolate, but I'm thinking we should be sensible and have some toast or something."

 

We got our breakfast ready and sat down on the couch. Michael even took his phone off of the hook so that we couldn't be disturbed, and he promised not to answer the door if someone turned up. "Do you want the TV on?" I asked him. Sometimes we ate breakfast together at the dining table, but other times we ate in front of the morning cartoons. We were such kids at heart.

 

"Nahh... let's just leave it off..." He replied. I liked that idea.

 

Michael had a bowl of cheerios with skim milk, while I ate toast with honey. We chewed quietly in silence. I was still quite sleepy, and I knew he was too. We were both so bleary eyed and looking like we hadn't slept. It was only 8am. We had difficulty going back to sleep so we ended up talking for awhile until we both decided we were hungry.

 

"Do you think Sarah will be mad at you?" I asked, referring to the way he'd left a message on her machine telling her to cancel his entire days schedule since something more important had come up.

 

He looked up from his obvious little daydream and nodded. "Yeah, she'll probably pop a vessel. Too bad. I won't have to hear about it, she has no way of reaching me."

 

I swallowed my slice of toast and put the plate down on the coffee table, watching him slurp up the odd cheerios that floated in his bowl. He finished up and settled back in to the couch. I thought of how much Sarah had been bugging out over Michael not always keeping work commitments since meeting me. I felt slightly bad about it, but I knew that it was important for him to have days off and enjoy his life, he worked far too hard in my opinion. I didn't want him to regret it later.

 

"So what do you want to do first?" He asked me.

 

"Well... I need to brush my teeth and have a shower because I'm sure I have morning breath and it's right to bathe regularly." I went to get up but he grabbed my hand and pulled me back down in to his lap.

 

"Does that mean I'm going to spend the rest of the day in my pajamas alone?" He pouted. I couldn't resist him, messy bed hair and all. I encircled my arms around his neck and smiled. "No babe, it just means I'm going to have a shower and put fresh pajamas and socks on."

 

He smiled, satisfied. I planted a soft kiss on his lips. "I'm so happy to spend today with you..." I added. "Thank you for taking the day off to hang out with me."

 

"Like wise, honey." He murmured, kissing me back. He let me get up and I headed in to the bathroom.

 

**

 

As I got out of the shower and dried myself off, I did something that I had avoided doing in years. I always shied my eyes away from looking at my body, from ever really studying it, from finding out what I liked about it, and what I didn't like. I hated looking at myself because I was always reminded of the emotional scarring that had turned literal. The last time I had dared to look directly at my reflection, I'd been overwhelmed with repulsion, wondering how on earth someone could ever love me. I hated my body, it seemed so hideous. I slowly drew my eyes up to the mirror and fixed them upon my naked body.

 

It suddenly didn't seem as bad as it had before. I had a nice olive complexion, my skin was almost entirely smooth, and my breasts round and firm, relaxed against my chest. All the things that I'd scrutinized once before, a few stretch marks, some cellulite here and there, were all things that were very natural on a woman's body. I wasn't perfect, and I knew Michael didn't expect me to be. I never dreamed that I would ever be able to tell anyone about the things that happened between Aaron and I, enough to explain the scars on my body. There was a fresh, long scar across my lower torso where they had removed my spleen after my car accident. So far I hadn't really had a lot of complications, but I had been informed that my immune system would be shot to pieces whenever I became ill, without it. I'd only been ill a few times, and it did take me a lot longer to recover than it had before, but as long as I did my best to stay healthy, I was okay.

 

There was another scar, more faint than the others on my chest, from the heart surgery that I'd had as a child. There were fresh scars at the right side of my body from where doctors had inserted drainage tubes for my collapsed lung, to make sure no air found it's way in. The other scar I had, began from my left shoulder, and ran down to the end of my shoulder blade, it was from a glass wound during the accident.

 

I felt so ashamed of them for so long, as if I'd done something so abhorrent to have deserved them, but I hadn't. Michael had helped me see that everything Aaron had inflicted upon me, was nothing to do with me. It wasn't my fault that he abused the power that I'd given him in our relationship. It wasn't my fault that he thought it was perfectly okay to hurt me. All these scars weren't just a reminder of the painful past that I was slowly leaving in the past, but it was also a reminder that I was a survivor -- that Aaron wasn't the end of my story. Perhaps for awhile I wanted him to be, and perhaps sometimes it might have seemed easier to resolve it as that -- but now I had Michael.

 

And Michael had scars too -- I gave him the credit he most certainly deserved. He would have never been so shallow as to hold any of these so-called imperfections against me.

 

I pulled on a pair of pink and grey flannel pajama pants, and slipped on a bra, my tank and the matching button down pajama top. I towel-dried my wet hair and combed it out and headed back downstairs.

 

**

 

I smiled at Michael sprawled out on the couch as I descended the stairs. He looked so comfortable. His hair was such a mess, his dry curls were mussed up all over the place. Sometimes I just wanted to pounce on him. He was so gorgeous. He glanced at me from the TV. "How was your shower?"

 

"Just fine." I replied, He pulled back the blanket and moved over, allowing me room to lay down beside him. "I'm still tired though." I confessed with a yawn. He pulled the blanket over us. "I hate the cold..." I murmured, warming my hands together. It was early days of winter and the mornings were absolutely freezing. My hands felt like ice. I smirked, and ran the exterior of my hand along Michael's prickly cheek. He needed to shave.

 

He flinched, "Damn... give me those..." He grabbed both of my hands and cupped them in his, rubbing them to keep them warm. I thanked him and kissed his cheek. I made him happy when I showed him affection, I could tell by the little smile that would adorn his lips.

 

"You should have turned the heat on in the bathroom, I don't want you to get sick." I loved that he was overprotective, sometimes over-bearingly so. It made me feel special.

 

"It was fine." I replied. Once he warmed up my hands, I wrapped my arm around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder. "Michael, I was thinking earlier... about the talk we had last night..."

 

The night before we had stayed up until well after midnight talking about the shitty relationship between him and his father. It had taken him a really long time to open up about it, but he was coming round. He told me a few little things though didn't really like to lament over it. "Yeah?" He asked, showing me a serious attentive face.

 

"The conversations we've had about your Dad... how come you never talk about it?" I wanted to know. "I mean... you made a big deal out of me opening up to you when we first started hanging out, and trusting you-- and I remember at one point, you even took the first step by telling me a little about what kinds of things your father would do -- but then it seems like you've just closed up..."

 

He avoided my eyes and stared toward the ceiling. He grimaced a little bit and sighed. "I don't know... I just kinda feel myself getting worked up talking about him. I told you a lot about him, already..."

 

I tried to understand, but I thought it was a bit hypocritical. "Well, what about your brothers and sisters -- you never mention them at all."

 

He laughed. "I've told you about Marlon and Jackie and my sisters..." He replied. I could feel the room growing tense. I didn't really want to upset him at all, it was just something that had struck me. "There's not really a lot to say about the rest..."

 

"No funny stories, interesting memories you'd like to share?" I asked with a smile, showing him that the conversation didn't have to turn intense if he didn't want it too. I didn't want to push him to talk about anything that he wasn't interested in talking about. I hovered above him, leaning my arms on his chest. He gave a faint smile and cupped my cheeks in the palms of his hands, caressing my face.

 

"Okay... this one will give you a bit of an insight as to why I want nothing to do with them..." He began. "When I was 21, I had a girlfriend, Matilda." He confessed. I thought that was a bit strange, he'd never brought up the name before. "Anyway, my brother's thought it was hightime I lost my virginity."

 

"What!" I exclaimed. "That's so stupid! Why would they do that to you?"

 

Again he smiled faintly and looked at me, and just shrugged his shoulders. "It's the kind of thing that they do." He replied. "Want me to go on or have you heard enough?"

 

"Go on...." I prompted him, feeling a little more troubled than I had expected already by only the beginning of his story.

 

"Okay. Matilda and I had been together for quite awhile-- and so my brother's and I were on tour. Jermaine told me he wanted to have a talk to me and so we went toward my suite, then before I knew it, he pushed me in and Tito locked the door behind me." I furrowed my brow, trying to figure out why they'd do that to him. "And you know...I thought they were just playing some kind of practical joke on me ... then these two girls came from my bedroom and they were wearing ...." He paused, trying to find the right words. He motioned to his chest, "these really... skimpy... bras and panties...."

 

My mouth dropped open, "Fuck off!" I exclaimed in complete and utter shock. "Are you shitting me?"

 

For a second Michael laughed and shook his head. "Seriously." He shrugged, "My brother's were at the other side of the door heckling me and stuff. I kinda backed up and tried to ask what was going on, cause it didn't sink in that they were prostitutes."

 

I was just speechless. It seemed so frigging ridiculous that someone would try to force someone that they loved in to something. I guess it could have been compared to rape, only it was his stupid brother's putting someone else up to it. I felt sickened by their behavior and so overcome with anger that someone could do that to their little brother... And especially Michael. He didn't deserve it.

 

"The prostitutes were trying to seduce me, and then kept asking me questions, like if I wanted them to fool around together..." He avoided my eyes again and made a face, looking briefly to the ceiling. "I dunno... I felt so--"

 

"Violated? Betrayed? Humiliated?" I supplied. Because, I actually physically felt those emotions for him as he was relaying the story.

 

He nodded, "Mostly humiliated." He sighed, "I told them to put on their clothes and kept asking for them to leave, but they kept trying to talk me in to it -- probably thinking they wouldn't get paid-- I ended up sitting on the edge of my bed with my hands over my face, I wanted to just burst in to tears, but I was trying to keep my pride." He explained. At that moment, I realised just how vulnerable Michael really was. He was such a gentle soul with an abundance of warmth in his heart and I longed to keep him away from any kind of harm at any cost.

 

"So what happened--"

 

"I just stayed non-responsive to them and then one of them called me a freak, and the other just grabbed her stuff and went." He shrugged. "That was just the kind of thing my brother's did."

 

"Yuck." I muttered, "Michael that's repulsive behavior. I would have acted the same way."  I was still wondering about Matilda. I wondered if he loved her. He did once tell me he'd never really been in love, but the way he spoke her name-- it didn't seem like it was nothing, and being with someone for a few months, that was more than nothing.

 

"I don't care-- it's over now. My brothers had their laughs."

 

"What about Matilda, what does she have to do with the story...you've never mentioned her before." I remarked, hoping to be a little more slick about how I approached the subject.

 

He seemed to be considering the rest of it, unsure if he wanted to bring it all back up. "She called when they tried to hook me up with the prostitutes and told her I was getting busy." He rolled his eyes, "Not that any of that matters much anymore."

 

"How long were you with her for?" I wondered.

 

"About 8 months." He replied. He was unusually short with his answers, like he didn't want to be crossing this subject at all, but that made it more like the thread that I felt the need to pull at. It may have been my insecurity, my lack of trust in males -- but I felt a sudden sense that he was keeping something from me and I didn't like it.

 

"Did you love her?" I asked bluntly.

 

His eyes found their way back to mine and I felt his arm around my waist, his hand caressing the back of my shoulder blade. "I guess so yeah... as much as I'd hate to admit it."

 

I didn't even have to ask why, he knew it would be my next question. "I guess that I should explain." He said with a bit of an ironic laugh. "Matilda was a really nice girl I met-- she seemed really normal. She had a regular life, she worked at Walmart, she was really sweet at first-- and we started dating and she seemed a little overwhelmed by me in the beginning." He paused and frowned, "I guess, in my industry, that should be normal, but it always kind of freaks me out when people are intimidated by me." He sighed. "So--" he paused again and looked at me, "This is a really boring story, Jade, we can talk about something else..." Oh no, I thought, I'm happy with this little ditty.

 

"I like this story." I replied.

 

"Fine, fine... So okay, I have this idiotic habit of wanting to show affection in materialistic forms--" He admitted, "I've gotten better at not doing it, because it just adds to the bewilderment of people getting used to dating someone famous like me..." He explained.

 

"Are you kidding? You haven't gotten better, you've spoiled me rotten!" I was thinking about the beautiful crystal figurines he'd bought me, and just trusting me to stay at his apartment all the time.

 

He chuckled, "Well, I bought Matilda this ridiculously expensive tennis bracelet on the second date.... and she turned out to be a psycho." He just blurted it out. "She would accuse me of cheating all the time, she always told me to buy her things, she began enjoying high-rolling."

 

I widened my eyes. "Really?"

 

"Yeah...I let her push me around a whole lot. She told me what to do, when to call, when to come, when to go. My family hated her, but I just thought that they didn't want to see me happy." he paused, "That may have been part of it, but... Mom was right about her." I caressed his hair as he spoke, not drawing my eyes away from his face. He mostly looked down, avoiding my gaze, but I knew it was out of busted pride. I hoped he knew that I would have never, ever treated him like that.

 

"She sounds like an idiot."

 

He chuckled again, "She probably was." He started wringing his fingers absently. "I guess I got played. For far too long... and then I took her to some industry party that she was bitching at me to go to-- I didn't want to go... Those things are just like some kind of excuse for apparently level-headed people to get wasted on coke and pills --"

 

I shook my head, I couldn't imagine Michael ever exposing me to a lifestyle like that. I had so much admiration for him that he was able to rise above that and resist all temptation. "That's nuts. Why did she want to go so badly?"

 

"She wanted to hook up with other celebrities, why else?" He asked me as if I should have known. I raised an eyebrow. "And so we got separated at some point during the party and as soon as the white powder came out, I knew we had to go. So I went looking for her, and found her kissing on some poor excuse of a musician. They were all over each other, and she'd just....powdered her own nose so to speak--"

 

"What! She cheated?" I asked incredulously, "And what? She was doing lines?" It seemed beyond me, I knew when it came to drugs I was amazingly sheltered. I had no idea what any of the terms were, I had no idea how to know if someone was on or off drugs unless it was Gaby, but that was cause I knew her so well -- but wow. Michael obviously was quite worldly when it came to that little underworld. I shouldn't have been surprised, I'm sure it was around him all of the time.

 

He just nodded, finally giving me eye contact again. "But who cares, you know? She wasn't the one... I thought she was, but I was wrong. It's my own fault. Later I found that I had a huge sum of money missing from a safe place that she knew about."

 

"You always tell me that what happened with Aaron wasn't my fault, and I believe you. I wouldn't believe it if it came from someone else, but I know how honest-to-God you are with me, Michael, and so believe me when I say, what happened with your ex wasn't your fault either." I told him in all seriousness. "If she broke your heart it wasn't because you did anything you weren't supposed to, she was just a shitty person. She took you for granted and realized how vulnerable you were." I continued, "And Michael, the level of warmth in your heart is immeasurable, and you should never change."

 

"You understand me, don't you?" He murmured in such a small, needy voice that reminded me so much of myself that I almost reeled back. I nodded and gave him a smile as I smoothed back the curls from his soft forehead.

 

"I'd never take you for granted like she did." I replied. "I promise. I appreciate everything you do for me." I said, as I kissed him softly on the lips. "Every little thing."

 

"I love you..." He told me as if he could never get sick of telling me. And trust me, I never got sick of hearing it.

 

You must login (register) to review.