~Michael Fassbender~
You stretched out as far as your legs and arms allowed you to across your small twin sized bed. You smiled at the fact that you were home again. It'd been years since you'd been back in Ireland and stepping foot into your childhood bedroom again brought back a pleasant wave of memories. Posters of your favorite pop group adorned your walls and you snickered, secretly pleased that your parents didn't change a thing while you were gone. You were happiest those many years ago before heading to the States to study as a foreign exchange student.
After you graduated high school, you studied abroad in Europe which led to falling in love and moving in with a handsome French man, but you never made your way back home until now, just before your thirty-third birthday. Your poor mother had begun to believe she would never see you in person again. You felt bad, but true love had overtaken you. However, true love was apparently not as everlasting as story books like to say.
You checked your phone and saw that it was nearing noon. You never slept in because you hated wasting away a perfectly sunny day. But you guessed you really needed the sleep. You shrugged it off and hopped up out of bed, making your way to the bathroom across the hall.
You messed with the shower settings until the water was warm. You began to strip off your pajamas when you heard a dog barking outside the partially open window. Curiosity got the better of you and you peered out the curtain, looking for the dog. Was that Samson? You recognized the chocolate lab, though he was graying around the eyes, and you were surprised he was still alive, considering the neighbors had had him since you were little. You smiled at the memory of your neighbor Mikey, who was just a few years older, and the look on his face when his father had pulled in down the gravel road with Samson in the seat next to him. You remembered being jealous of Mikey but he always swore Samson was your dog too. He was very caring and protective of you and when your pleas for a pet of your own were shot down by your parents, Mikey made out a certificate of ownership for you with scrap paper and crayons, stating you were Samson's mother and he was Samson's father. He was always so sweet to you.
A sudden shout brought you back to reality.
"Sammy-boy!" You heard a man call out.
You kept behind the curtains, watching. A tall and rather well-built guy came out the back door of your neighbor's house and into the yard, searching for the dog. He was wearing a gray long sleeved ribbed henley shirt which beautifully showed off his sculpted chest, arms and abs and a dark pair of jeans, tattered at the knees. He ran his fingers through his perfectly styled dark auburn hair and you almost felt guilty, as if you were spying. Well no, you were definitely spying. But you couldn't look away. Not yet. You watched as he hollered for the dog again and Samson went bounding toward him, pouncing on him once he was close enough. It finally clicked in your head that the guy must be... Mikey? All grown up?
"Holy shit..." you said quietly to yourself. "Mikey got hot!"
How long has it been since you've seen him? Nearly fifteen years? The two of you grew up together but once he hit puberty, he no longer had any interest in hanging out with a girl. No, that wasn't right. He definitely hung out with girls. Just not you. You remembered seeing him out with the likes of Shannon McLeary. Oh how you despised Shannon McLeary. Full figured, big-breasted at thirteen Shannon McLeary. Hmph.
"Come on Sammy-boy, let's go in," Mikey rubbed Samson on the head and led the way back in the house.
You swallowed hard and closed the curtains completely. The bathroom was now completely steamy and as you stepped into the shower, the water had gone from warm to cold. What a waste. But it was a blessing in disguise. Turned out you needed a cold shower anyway now, after seeing Mikey again.
After freshening up and getting dressed, you grabbed an apple and decided to take a walk to the local library. Your parents would be at work all day and you were left without any transportation.
You buffed your apple against your shorts, making it shine before taking a good solid bite out of it. To get to the library, you knew you had to pass by Mikey's house. There was no getting around it, being the only road around for a while. Slipping your sunglasses on, you chewed on your first bite as you walked at a leisurely pace, enjoying the sunshine and the fresh air. You were beginning to near the hedges that separated your front yard from Mikey's and your heart began to beat faster. What if he was outside? Or if he saw you from a window? Would he recognize you?
"Why do I even care?" You asked yourself.
You took another bite as you officially made it past the hedges. And sure enough, there he was. Mikey was washing a car. His back was to you as he sprayed the car with the garden hose, so you picked up your pace, hoping to pass by unnoticed. You kept your eyes straight ahead and concentrated on your feet, praying silently that you wouldn't trip or do something majorly embarrassing. At least not until you were well out of sight.
"Oof!!!" You went stumbling down hard on the gravel with a rather large amount of weight on your back, holding you down. You panicked, not understanding what was happening. A sloppy piece of wet... leather?... rubbed against your cheek and the weight on your back shifted, jumping off onto the ground next to you.
"Samson, no!" You heard Mikey shouting at the dog, who had apparently tackled you to the ground and was now smothering you with doggy love.
You pushed yourself up on all fours and then sat back on your ankles, brushing your hands off on your tank top. Your hands stung and you realized you had road burn and pieces of gravel were embedded into your skin. Mikey ran over to you, apologizing and yelling at the dog at the same time.
"Aw, shit, I'm really sorry. He never does that!" Mikey grabbed Samson by the collar and scolded him. "Sit! Now!"
He held out a hand to help you up and you smiled at him, weakly, with your sunglasses hanging off on just one ear. You pulled them off completely and sat them on top of your head like a headband. Your apple, you saw, was a few yards away having been completely knocked out of your hand as you fell.
You nervously chuckled and gave Samson a light pat on the head. "It's okay, I just didn't hear him coming."
"You're bleeding! Shit, I'm so, so sorry. Please let me help you get cleaned up. It's the least I can do." Mikey looked so concerned and genuinely remorseful.
You followed him over to the hose and held your hands out. Samson followed and took his place at your side. Mikey ran the cold water over your battered palms and you felt his eyes on your face, though you tried your hardest to keep your attention elsewhere.
"Hey, I know you..." The stream of water dropped as Mikey lowered the hose.
You swallowed what was left of your pride and looked up, facing him. "Oh, yeah, we went to school together, for a short while, at least. Mikey, right?"
He laughed loudly, "Wow, no one has called me that in a long time. Not since you, actually. Call me Michael, please. And are you really going to pretend that you're not sure it's me? I mean, come on. We grew up together. And I'm next door to your house... Unless I look that different?"
You smiled and felt embarrassed. "No, you look exactly the same." Your eyes dropped to his strong square jaw and you watched his thin lips form into a smirk.
"You have definitely changed." His eyes dropped down to your body and you felt your cheeks redden. This couldn't possibly get any more embarrassing.
You shook your hands hard; splashing both you and Michael in the process. He stepped back and laughed, brushing a drop off water off his cheek with his sleeve.
"How are your hands?" He dropped the hose and grabbed your hands before you could pull away. Holding them palms up, he observed your wounds. "Come inside and I'll get you some ointment and bandages."
Before you could answer, he had the front door open, waiting for you to step in. "I'll be fine, really." You waved and began to turn, wondering if you should keep heading toward the library or turn back home. Your hands really did burn, but you couldn't face Michael for a minute longer without blushing profusely. He was even better looking up close. The faint stubble across his jaw and his piercing blue eyes with the mischievous glint you remembered so well was enough to make a girl swoon.
"Nope." You felt his firm hands on your waist, turning you back toward his house and guiding you toward the door. Resistance was futile. You were heading into enemy territory, whether you liked it or not.
Samson ran ahead of you into the house and Michael closed the door after the two of you stepped in. "Park yourself right here." He pat a stool in the kitchen and proceeded to head down the hall to the bathroom to get the supplies while Samson stayed at your side.
His house hadn't changed much at all, aside from a few pieces of newer furniture. You sat at the counter with your palms up and glanced around the kitchen. Immediately, your eyes were drawn to a specific photograph on the refrigerator. You chuckled to yourself, realizing it was of you and Mikey, er, Michael, from your golden days. Before he became too good to be your friend anymore. The two of you were in a pile of leaves with your arms around each other. Both of you had enormous and happy smiles on your faces. You skimmed over the other photos on the fridge and grimaced seeing one of Michael and Shannon with a heart shaped magnet holding it in place. You stuck your tongue out at Shannon, silently cussing her out. Samson cocked his head in confusion.
"Here we are," Michael said as he placed a first aid kit on the counter. He unzipped it and pulled out some ointment and plasters. He straddled the stool next to you and took your left hand, placing it on his knee to examine it.
"This one doesn't look as bad." He lifted your hand to observe it better and blew on your skin to make sure it wasn't too damp for a plaster. The cool air against your torn flesh felt good and sent a shiver down your spine. You shook in place, noticeably, with a chill and Michael chuckled. Placing your hand back on his knee, he unscrewed the lid of the ointment and squeezed a small amount onto your palm before placing a plaster securely over the cuts. He then grabbed your other hand and began to repeat the steps.
However, this time, when he blew against your skin, the two of you made eye contact. Your heart pounded, wanting to break out of your ribcage. "Almost done," Michael assured.
'Thank God...' you thought to yourself. You needed to get out of there.
"Are you hungry?" His eyes were still on yours as he gently pressed a plaster onto your right palm.
"No," you lied, as your stomach audibly growled, betraying you.
"Your stomach says otherwise, my dear." Michael smirked and hopped off the stool. Your eyes followed him to the fridge and again you saw the picture of him and Shannon before you looked away.
"You don't really say much, do you?" Michael joked. He opened the fridge and pulled out some jelly.
You shrugged and smiled. He shook his head and pointed at you as he brought the jelly to the counter. "Used to be I couldn't get you to shut up." He smiled and nodded at the container of jelly, "Still fond of peanut butter and jelly?"
Michael raised his eyebrows, anticipating your answer as he reached up for some plates and groaned when all you did was nod.
Your cheeks hurt from forcing yourself not to laugh. Michael found the peanut butter and began to lather up pieces of bread with both the peanut butter and the jelly. He licked the knife carefully before placing it in the sink. Grabbing the jelly, he opened the fridge back up to put it back. When the door shut, he looked back at you and then back to the fridge before pointing to the photo you'd been admiring earlier; the one of the two of you in a pile of leaves.
"Remember this?" He beamed. You nodded and smiled. He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. You took a sudden interest in your bandaged palms, avoiding his eye contact. "How about this," he went on. Your eyes looked at where he pointed, which was to the photo of him and Shannon. "Remember Shannon?"
Your face dropped even though you feigned a smile. "Oh, no, not really. She's pretty, though," you squeaked.
Michael strode back to the half finished sandwiches and pressed the pieces of bread together and plopped one sandwich on a plate and slid it over in front of you. "You're a terrible liar, you know."
Again, you just shrugged as you picked up your sandwich and took a bite.
"So," he began.
"So," you mocked.
"What have you been up to in the past, what, ten years?"
"Fifteen," you corrected him.
He glared at you and smiled. "Someone has been keeping track?"
You scoffed with your mouth full, leading you to choke on your food. Michael stepped behind you and gave you a firm smack on the back.
"So you haven't changed that much," he laughed. "You were always choking on something. You need to work on your gag reflex."
"Excuse me?" You stared at him in disbelief.
He mimicked your wide-eyed expression and you punched him in the arm in jest.
"You're still gross," you giggled.
Michael brought his sandwich up and took a big bite, causing jelly to slip out from between the pieces of bread and onto his shirt. He groaned and dropped his sandwich back on the plate. As he chewed, he reached behind him and grabbed the back of his shirt and proceeded to yank it off. You immediately focused on your sandwich and tried to ignore the glorious half naked man next to you.
You could tell he was eyeing you which began to make you nervous. Why couldn't he just leave you alone with your sandwich and get a new damn shirt?
Watching from the corner of your eye, you saw him dip his finger into the jelly of his sandwich and you knew exactly what he was planning to do. Hopping off the stool, you threw your hands in front of you in defense.
"Mikey, no. Don't even think about it!" You wanted to laugh, remembering all the food fights you had with him growing up. His mother would always get so cross and kick you both out into the back yard. You wanted to laugh, but you kept a straight face. Unfortunately it did nothing to intimidate Michael. He stepped toward you as you stepped back.
"Don't you dare," you warned him. Yet, the broad grin on his face was a sure sign he wasn't going to back down.
Samson yelped as you backed into him but he didn't budge. The distance between you and Michael closed and you closed your eyes, bracing for impact. You waited for him to wipe the jelly across your tank but instead, you felt the cold wetness of the jelly smear across your nose.
You groaned and opened your eyes, his perfect wide smile lighting up the room, making it impossible for you to be upset. "You know you're gonna get it now, right?" You grabbed him at his forearms and dropped your head down to wipe the jelly off on his arm except he jerked out of your grasp and grabbed you by the shoulders to hold you back. Your sunglasses fell off your head and broke in half as they collided with the kitchen tile.
Michael threw his head back laughing at your pathetic struggle to attack. You couldn't help but laugh with him. After all those years missing between the two of you, you suddenly felt like you had your childhood friend back again.
You continued to struggle against him, trying hard to reach your jellied nose to any part of him that you could. He dragged you out of the kitchen and into the living room and bumped into the coffee table, nearly falling backwards. Samson began barking at the shenanigans, excited and wanting to play along. He jumped up and pounced against Michael, knocking him forward against you. You fell back against the couch with Michael on top. Laughing, he propped himself up with his arms and asked if you were okay.
Your laughter died down as you caught his eyes looking at your mouth. He sighed and gave you a small smile. "I've missed this," he confessed.
His face was so close to yours, you could feel his breath on your cheek. Your heartbeat quickened in your chest as you thought about meeting his lips with yours. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing as he quickly gave his lips a lick. He lowered his face to yours and licked your nose before letting out a boisterous laugh.
"Ugh, Mikey, gross," you squirmed under him, laughing.
"I've missed you," he whispered. You weren't even sure if you heard him correctly, so you just stared at him until he smirked again.
A million replies danced around in your mind but you couldn't form the proper words to let him know you agreed. You had this guy on a pedestal growing up and his sudden disinterest in you had broken your heart. You had missed him, too. But not only that; you had loved him and you never stopped loving him. You never shared that with him and you certainly weren't about to anytime soon. But yes, you definitely had missed him.
"Hey," he began. "I'm going to kiss you now."
You felt your face flush and your heart stopped. You suddenly forgot how to breathe as his lips came down on yours. You couldn't believe this was happening. It'd been a fantasy since you were ten and he was fourteen. The boy you had loved was finally kissing you. And damn, was he a good kisser!
Your lips parted, granting his tongue access to yours and they danced around, acquainting themselves with one another. His weight pressed into you as he got more comfortable being on top of you. But it wasn't unpleasant. There was some strange sense of security having him pressed against you. His fingers found their way to your hair and he tangled them through your strands, grasping you by the roots and kissing you harder. You moaned in approval and ran your hands over his bare back. Samson whined and ran out of the room.
Both of you needed a breath of air and Michael reluctantly pulled his mouth away from yours, panting. He pressed his forehead to yours and the sly smile that crept over his face sent a wave of goosebumps over the bare flesh of your arms. He gave you a soft kiss on the nose, pushed himself off of you and sat up. You did the same, adjusting your tank top which had bunched up around your torso during your mini make out session.
"Why didn't you say goodbye when you left?" His sudden question caught you off guard.
You found yourself at a loss for words, yet again. You quickly combed your fingers through your hair as you searched for the right words. Michael sat back and waited for an answer.
Sighing, you shook your head and shrugged. "Did it matter? We hadn't hung out together in so long and you were dating Shannon."
"Hah!" He exclaimed. "I knew you remembered Shannon."
You rolled your eyes and blushed, embarrassed. "Whatever. You tossed me aside the minute you met her and you were 'too good' to be my friend anymore."
Michael scoffed, stunned by your answer. "Well, that's certainly not how I remember it, love."
"Oh, really?" Your stubborn attitude was boiling to the surface. "Then please, feel free to enlighten me, love." You enunciated the last word, mocking him and you loved the look on his face as he clearly was becoming annoyed.
"I think you were jealous of Shannon. I wasn't the one who stopped being your friend. You're the one who stopped. You stopped answering my phone calls, you always had some lame excuse when I asked you to do something with me and you constantly ignored me. It really hurt, you know."
You were tired of listening about Shannon. What the hell was so great about Shannon? Why would you be jealous of her, of all people? You stood and thanked him for his help with your hands and for the sandwich. He watched intently as you bent to scruff Samson, who had returned upon hearing you rise off the couch, behind his ears.
"That's it?" Michael stayed seated and crossed his arms.
Without another word, you made your way to the front door and stepped out of the house. You passed his car with the bucket of soapy water next to it and growled audibly when your foot stepped right into a puddle. As you held onto Michael's car and shook as much water as you could off your foot, you heard the front door open and Michael grumbling, though you couldn't make out what he was saying. You didn't look back; you felt you needed to keep whatever dignity you still had left. Looking back would only make you appear weak.
"Running away again. Can't say I'm too surprised." Michael uttered under his breath, but just loudly enough for you to happen to hear.
Keeping your eyes forward, you threw your hand up in the air and flipped him the bird. You felt proud of yourself and grinned as you marched your way back toward your house.
Without warning, ice cold water began to rain down on you and you shrieked in surprise. You whipped around to find Michael aiming the garden hose at you, drenching you completely into a puddle of your own.
"Michael! Stop it!" You shouted at him as you held your arms up over your head, a useless defense.
You should have just walked away. The hose could only reach so far. But you were pissed at Michael and wanted immediate revenge. You yelled at him again to stop as you lunged toward him.
"Oh shit," he laughed and held on tightly to the hose as you tried desperately to snatch it from his grasp.
Your hands covered the spray, sending water in every which direction, sure enough spraying him in the process. You laughed in defiance, glad to give him a taste of his own medicine. The hose slipped from his hands and you snagged it and turned it on him, spluttering water straight into his face. Michael clenched his eyes and mouth closed and waited for you to aim the spray elsewhere before he spit whatever water he had caught in his mouth at you.
The anger you had initially felt passed and you cried out in laughter along with him, fighting for control of the hose. Michael grabbed you by the waist with one arm and flipped you around, hugging you from behind. He pried the hose from your fingers and held it up in the air, letting the water rain down on the both of you. Hunched over you, he laughed into your hair and you hugged his arm for support.
Hastily, Michael kissed you behind the ear and dropped the hose. You craned your neck, giving him better access. He swayed in place with you in his arms and planted a gentle trail of kisses down the back of your neck. You turned in place, facing him. His arms still wrapped around you, he brought his lips to yours once again. You pressed your battered palms against his chest and completely embraced him, letting him take you in. You pushed up on your toes to better reach his lips and his arms hugged you tightly, lifting you slightly off the ground.
He let you back down gently and interrupted the kiss you were so thoroughly enjoying by breaking away. His eyes looked you up and down, snickering at your pathetic state. You were sure you looked like a wet mouse. "You're going to catch a cold," he winked.
"Me? What about you?" You jabbed him gently in the chest.
He smiled and nodded. "You're right. I think what we need is a hot shower and some dry clothes."
"I agree," you nodded.
He slowly lowered his mouth to yours again and ever so lightly placed his lips to yours for a single kiss. "We sure did waste a lot of water. I think it's only fair if we share the shower. You know, so we don't waste any more."
You looked up at him and gave him a sexy smile. "I agree."