(18+) The Guest (Complete)

Ch. 17: Sandcastle

I felt so bad. Nauseous too, but mostly bad for thinking the worst about Michael. I mean, he could be lying to me about not sleeping around, but I don't think he was. At least for now I chose to believe him, simply because of the way he treated me. I felt so alone yesterday and everything was just a chaos, and even though I'd been so mean to him, he comforted me like no one else had ever done. And he got up from bed just to stroke my back while I was hanging over the toilet for the umpteenth time the last forty eight hours, even though he probably was incredibly tired after being kept awake most of the night. And that was my fault. He even ordered food I didn't eat. If I was him, I'd kick myself out. But instead he hugged me until I fell asleep again, exhausted from my own mind.

He did more than just hug you, Ana.

I could still feel his hands exploring my naked body. It made me feel so vulnerable, yet so treasured that it left me breathless. It was like the touch of his fingertips left burning trails, that all lead straight down to my core. And I know he felt it. The way he'd moaned when he felt my wetness, told me that. But even though I normally would be embarrassed by my own bodily reaction, I was more amazed by the feeling he ignited in me. And I could tell he felt the same way, judging by how hard he was. He desired me. How could someone like him feel that way about a nobody like me? And why did I freak out so badly when I was just about to lose control?

I needed to apologize to him. But how did I bring it up in a conversation naturally? I couldn't just blurt it out over breakfast; 'Oh, and by the way, I'm sorry for giving you blue balls last night. I just wasn't in the mood'. Because that would be the biggest lie in history, and he knew it.

"Do you want some toast?" Michael asked when I came out from the toilet. Then he froze in his actions and just stared at me for a moment, until he blushed and looked away, and a flush of self-consciousness made me blush and look away, too. I cleared my voice.

"Yeah. I mean, I can try some," I stuttered, not especially convinced that I would manage to keep the food down for too long. Why did I suddenly feel so nervous?

"So..." he started, when I sat down at the table in front of him.

"I'm going to be busy tonight."

"Yeah, of course. Concert, right?"

Gosh, this feels awkward. I shouldn't be here. I was just a burden to him.

"Yes. But I was thinking about what you said. You know, getting to know each other?"

I nodded, and took my first bite of a toast with only a tiny slice of cheese, because I couldn't stand the thought of something that smelled or tasted strongly.

"Mhm?"

"I want to take you out."

I stopped chewing and met his eyes for a brief moment, then looked away like I'd touched an electric fence.

"Sightseeing," he explained, and I felt embarrassed to believe he had been thinking in a romantic way. After all, I'd kinda told him to take things slowly.

"We can go in my limo, so if you get sick... You know... We have privacy, and..."

The thought of puking in a car next to Michael Jackson was mortifying. Then again, did I have any dignity left at all? I was actually amazed that he didn't feel disgusted. But I guess it wasn't that much different than being in a bathroom with him, vomiting into a toilet.

"We can see the Great Ocean Road," he continued when I didn't answer.

"Or just drive through the city. I'm sorry I can't just walk around..."