Evelyn

Chapter 11 - Consent is Hot

Michael sighed and threw a piece of bread onto a pan over the stove. I couldn't help my laugh. "Michael, why haven't you been to the market?"

"I was going to go Tuesday afternoon, but there was an...unexpected turn of events. Some crazy woman showed up to my apartment out of nowhere and threw off my plans."

I looked down, maybe taking his joke a little bit too personally, "Sorry."

"Hey," I heard Michael say. He gently outstretched his hand and tilted my chin up to meet his gaze. "You did nothing wrong."

But I felt wasn't worried. It shifted into something else.

I was distracted.

Distracted by the feel of his hand on my chin, my skin suddenly burning from his touch.

I waited for him to move, but was rooted to the ground as if it were a lifeline. There was something in his eyes that I'm sure matched mine. His mouth parted and his gaze fell from my eyes to my lips.

Oh God.

Is this about to happen?

He suddenly looked me in the eyes and I don't think I'll be able to breathe for the next month. "Can I-"

"Yes," I breathed.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he leaned in to me, just a hair of space between us...

Beep beep beep went the smoke detector.

We pulled away (end my life right now) and looked around, just now noticing the smoke.

"Shit! The bread," Michael turned around and turned the heat off of the stove while I opened his window and fanned the smoke out of the room.

The beeping stopped and I couldn't help but laugh.

Michael, who, moments ago, was the picture of desire, now holds part of a dismantled smoke detector and looks completely disheveled and mildly flustered.

"How about we go to my apartment for breakfast?" I suggested, teasingly.

"Yeah, I guess so." Michael grumbled.

"'Yeah, I guess so,'" I said, mimicking his voice. "Besides, I happen to know someone who doesn't burn bread in a stove because she has a toaster."

I started to turn around to get my shoes, then I remembered something extremely important that I had forgotten.

"Oh shit!" I yelled.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Wasabi! I haven't been home so he hasn't eaten!"

~~~

Update: Wasabi isn't dead.

Michael said that he fed Wasabi before he took me to his apartment, so it hasn't been a full forty eight hours since Wasabi's eaten.

"Wait a minute, how did you know how much to feed him?"

"I googled it," Michael shrugged. He said it in a way that made it seem like it wasn't the sweetest thing that he googled fish care just so Wasabi wouldn't die.

It felt so...domestic. Almost as if this is something normal, a routine we follow every day. I felt like the puzzle pieces were being put back together again. And maybe, just maybe, this could be something. After all, it's not every day that someone takes the time to learn how to care for your pet fish.

"Im going to be completely honest," I began. "I don't remember you coming to my apartment. I don't even remember how I got to your apartment."

"So you don't remember using the aux cord to exclusively play duets where you were singing both parts?"

I stared at him mortified. "I did that?"

Michael nodded his head yes.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry that was probably the most unattractive thing I could've done next to throwing up in your car." I stopped, "I didn't do that too, did I?"

Michael laughed, "no, you didn't. And, for the record, I thought your singing was cute."

I blushed and looked away, "it wouldn't have been that cute if I had a one hundred and two degree fever. I probably sounded like I just finished my eight shot of tequila at a karaoke bar."

"I wouldn't say eight shots. Maybe only four."

I grabbed a pillow off my bed and threw it at him. "Sometimes I forget you're not actually a nice person."

"That was nice!"

"If you were nice you wouldn't have told me that I did something embarrassing that I don't remember. Maybe I'll push you out the window then we'll see who's laughing then."

"You scare me, I hope you know that."

"I'm glad to hear it," I smiled. "On our first date I accused you of potentially being an axe murderer. Did you ever consider that maybe I was deflecting and I'm the secret serial killer?"

"I didn't, but that's probably because you're the nicest person I've ever met," Michael countered.

"That's really sweet," I mumbled, moderately bothered that I wouldn't win this debate.

"What was that?" Michael asked coyly.

"Shut up before I push you out the window."

~~~

HEYYYYYYYYYYYY
Awwww they really like each other
Sorry for the late chapter and if this is moderate trash, it's been a week
Anywayyyyyyyy
ibihoxha you're comments on the chapters a few days ago had me cackling, thank you.
See y'all soon!