Storm 》Clifford A.U

025;

          I WAS BEGINNING TO THINK that Michael and I had a serious problem. Last night, we practically had sex in the kitchen. But then we realized where we were and managed to stumble back upstairs to his dorm room where we did have sex. Three times. 

      I knew that what I was doing was so incredibly stupid, but I just couldn't bring myself to stop. At first I thought that maybe being drunk was playing a part in this entire situation but now I wasn't quite sure. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that a small part of me maybe kind of liked Michael. And I would have been more than willing to sleep with him sober too, I was just too scared to admit it. So really, all the alcohol did was give me courage but my feelings, they were there all on there own.

     When I woke up this morning I was still in Michael's bed, still naked, and still being held against his chest. His arm was sprawled over me, almost locking me in place, but I was able to eventually free myself without waking him up. 

     Much to my dismay, Calum was in the room. I was surprised to see him asleep since in all the time that I had spent here, I had seen him sleep for maybe seven hours maximum and never, ever, consecutively. He had a sign taped to his bed frame that read:

     please don't let me sleep past 8am. my alarm should work but i  might sleep through it. if i do,  wake. me. up. please.

     Because please had been underlined in thick black sharpie several times, I reached for my phone to check the time. It was 7:23, so he was still safe and snoring soundly.

    I really, really hoped that whenever Calum came in last night (or this morning) he hadn't seen Michael and I together. The last thing I wanted was for him to make a thing out of it, because it wasn't one. It was just sex, and that's all. That's all it ever would be. Even if my feelings for Michael did happen to grow and turn into something else, we would never work. He wouldn't want us to and neither would I, for that matter. I just wanted to find Darya and even though it hurt, I needed to stop letting myself get distracted. I needed to get something done.

     Clutching one of Michael's blankets against my body, I run over to my duffel bag and pull out a pair of leggings, a tee shirt, soap, and underwear. I needed to get in the shower and strategize. I needed to figure out what I was going to do to get information until Olivia got here in a couple of days, and I needed to figure out what I was going to do when she actually did get here.

          I turn on the water and jump inside, goosebumps springing up along my skin. Okay, I have to think. How am I going to get Olivia to talk to me? How am I going to keep her from bolting when she finds me and not Ashton?

     It's not like I could tell Ashton and get him to play along with it, could I? He'd probably just freak out and get mad at me like Michael did. And then he'd call it off and ruin everything. No, that wouldn't help at all. 

     Maybe I could just say that Ashton got stuck teaching a class last minute and didn't want to cancel on her. That he sent me to talk to her instead of just ditching her. 

     "Fuck." I whisper, biting my lip and pressing my forehead against the glass door. What am I thinking? I'm in way over my head. I have no idea what I'm doing, I'm just wasting time. It's not like I'm actually finding any information that's actually valuable. It's not like I'm helping this investigation in any way. But really, who is? The police seem to have given up, too. After this many days they sort of stop looking for a person and just start looking for a body. They just start assuming that she's gone. But I can't. I can't let myself think that way, I won't. I need Darya to be okay. I need to find her. 

     I inhale sharply and wash the soap off of my body and hair, the water trickling down purple as it mixes with my hair dye. 

     When I turn off the water and start to dry myself off, I hear voices outside.