Damn, You're Cute (Michael Clifford)

Chapter 78

I woke up to the sound of pots and pans rattling downstairs and the hum of voices rising from the level below us. It took me a minute to realize that I wasn't in my own bed, but drawn into Michael's chest in Melissa's guest bedroom. The sheets were tangled around my torso and my body was warm, pressed up against Michael's.

He must've heard the rustling as well because his eyes slowly fluttered open as he sighed lightly. His pink lips parted when his eyelashes delicately brushed his pale skin. I noticed with adoration the way his hair was smushed between his pillow and face, flattened against his cheek. I didn't understand how someone could look so flawless when first waking up.

I let my head drop back onto my pillow when Michael sleepily said, "Good morning."

His eyes held mine, briefly flashing with pity before it disappeared behind a ghost of a smile. It took me a moment to realize why he glanced at me with such an emotion, eventually remembering my phone call with Luke last night- the way he yelled at me through the speaker. The memory conjured up unwelcome feelings as my stomach churned. Instead of feeling guilty, like the last time Luke raised his voice at me, I was angry. It was my turn now to be upset with the way our friendship was being handled. Luke needed to trust me like Michael did.

"Morning," I stretched out the stiff muscles in my body, extending my arms and legs. The noise from downstairs continued. Still in my tired state, I let my eyes fall shut again and disappointedly mumbled, "Suppose we should find out what they're doing down there, yeah?"

I had no intent on getting up anytime soon because the blankets were warm and the mattress molded perfectly to my body, but this wasn't my house. I couldn't stay over uninvited.

I began to roll toward the edge of the bed with a frown on my lips. Getting up before eleven on the weekend was practically a sin for me.

"They're just making breakfast," Michael told me quietly before reaching out for my hips. He pulled me back into him, my hair pinned beneath my back. "Now, hush and go back to sleep with me."

I cracked a smile and ran my finger over his chest. It seemed like we did this every time we woke up together. Neither of us ever wanted to leave.

"I can't," I said and threw off the blankets as he whined with his eyes still shut. "We can't."

Michael turned on his side and dug his elbow into the crisp, white pillow, holding up his head with one hand. He watched me as I slipped off his shirt and threw it at him.

"And why not?" he pushed his arms through the sleeves. I found my clothes lazily thrown over the chair in the corner of the room.

Tugging on my shorts, I said, "Because this is your aunt and uncle's house. I wasn't even supposed to spend the night."

"And they weren't supposed to stay out all night," he muttered, showing his minor irritation. However, he thankfully slung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Don't pout," I teased, running my thumb over his bottom lip, and wedged myself between his parted legs. My fingers combed through the hair just above his ears as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Then come back to bed with me," he countered with a small grin. I shook my head, feeling his linked hands rest on the small of my back. "Just this once?"

"Nope," I laughed softly, trailing my fingers down to the nape of his neck. "If they're making breakfast, we should go down."

I watched as he slowly agreed to my idea. He pressed his lips together in defeat as I ran my hands through the shorter red hairs on the back of his head.

"Fine," he gave in and stood from the bed. I smiled, feeling accomplished while I attempted to untangle my knotted hair with only my fingers. I noticed Michael pull on his jeans in the reflection of the large, square mirror.