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Chapter six
Ten Years Ago
Ben
“I feel like I should apologise.” Mikaela walks to the small kitchenette with her head low as she pulls her sweater sleeves down over her hands, twisting them between her fingers. “Do you want a drink or anything?”
I follow behind her, closing the door to her mom’s apartment, and watching her closely. Her hair is thrown into a messy knot on the top of her head and her face is make-up free. Under the grey men’s sweatshirt, three or four sizes too big for her, are tiny black shorts that cling to the shape of her and, as she moves, I watch her closely.
Part of me wants to reach out and pull her towards me. Demand to know where she got the damn top. Who it belongs to. Another part of me is already screaming at that urge as if to say:This is Mikaela Wilcox, big guy. Calm the fuck down.
Unaware of the constant stream of internal confusion going on in my mind, she pads through the cramped living space, avoiding looking anywhere in particular, and I find myself wishing she would turn to me - even for just one minute - so I can see what’s going on in her head.
“No, I’m good. Thanks.” I watch as she picks up dirty mugs and bowls from the counter and dumps them in the sink, busying herself as I stand leaning against the doorframe. I smile to myself as my eyes roll down the shape of her, admiring the way her hips naturally sway as she walks away from me. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why should you apologise?” I smirk when she finally meets my eyes and a small laugh slips from her lips.
I’d noticed that last night. She has a beautiful laugh. I’m not sure why it’s taken me this long to hear it.
She shakes her head, her hand moving to the back of her neck as she leans back against the counter and drops her eyes to the floor, and I watch the soft pink of her blush pool beneath her skin.
“I was a complete mess last night and you - well, you had to do the whole big brother’s best friend thing and rescue me from myself.” She glances up at me and I smile. For a moment, it’s just the two of us looking at each other in silence.
Her eyes are warm and inviting and her chest rises and falls with every shaking breath.
I trace the shape of her lips, the fullness and the cupids bow, and allow myself to wonder what it might be like to run my thumb across them, to brush my lips against them... To taste her.
Her eyes darken as I take a short step forwards and my mouth goes dry.
Once. I just want to touch her once. Then I’ll stop.
“So - erm - Jamie is feeling worse than I am.” She breaks eye contact and glances to the hallway, ultimately severing that pull between us, and I stop in my tracks. “Although I’m really not sure how because I was - well you already know what I was like.”
I clear my throat and force myself to blink away the thick fog of thoughts that taunt me as I watch her turn from me, her hands trembling as she busies herself with more cleaning. “You were fine, Mik.”
“I don’t know about that.” She mutters, more to herself than for me to hear. “I think I fell asleep on you.”
“I didn’t mind.” I shrug a little. She stills again and a rose blush spreads underneath her pale skin once more, creeping over her neck and flooding her cheeks.
She turns back to face me, her lips slightly parted and her eyes wide as they run over me, and that blush deepens. And, just like that, the pull is back. I do not tear my eyes from her once; not as she stumbles over words that just don’t come or as she brings a hand up to her neck. Not when she stops trying to talk and simply stares at me with the smallest smile.
Instead, I watch her and,my God, I want her.
“She’s off limits to you, Haston.”
Jamie’s warning from the bar rings like a knell in my mind as the sound of his footsteps coming down the narrow hallway pulls my focus to the door behind me. And Jamie’s right; this is Little Mik, for Christ’s sake. I couldn’t touch her even if I wanted to. But right now? In this moment? I realise I really,reallywant to.
Mikaela
“I thought you were leaving last night?” Jamie’s voice is groggy and thick with sleep as he pats Ben’s shoulder and makes his way over to my side. He pokes me three times, sharp in the ribs as I groan, before he reaches up for the cereal boxes balanced on top of the refrigerator. “What made you stick around?”
I move aside, putting down some toast and busying myself gathering pills for Mom.
My heart thumps in my chest while I wait for Ben to speak, holding in the smallest breath. My palms are clammy and my fingers won’t catch the lip of the pill bottle and I can feel my mind growing thicker with each passing second - thick with the ideas of Ben’s arm wrapped around me as he held me close to him in the car. Thick with the citrus and pine scent that clung to my skin even after he’d walked me to the door and pushed me up the stairs, laughing when I’d stumbled slightly and holding my waist until I could get my key in the door. Thick with the terrifying hope that maybe what I have been feeling since I’d seen him standing in that lonely church isn’t some one-sided, silly infatuation.
“Oh.” Ben pauses and I can feel the weight of his eyes on me, but I can’t move to face him. Instead, I line the bottles up as if they have an order and aren’t just going to be shoved in a cupboard until I repeat this process in three hours. “Nothing important.”
