I texted Maya that I was going home with Mike. She wished me good luck and Hamilton promised to take her home. So, I had nothing to worry about. I really hadn't.

Nevertheless, I couldn't sit still. My fingers tapped my uncovered thigh. Mike's jacket still cloaked my bare arms and shoulders, but that meant that he wasn't covered.

He wore a t-shirt, which, of course, showed off his muscles as they tensed.

He didn't reach for the radio and nor did I. We submerged in the thick silence between us. I wasn't sure how I felt about it. It wasn't awkward, but still not comfortable.

Unspoken words hung between us. Unfulfilled promises were the bricks in the wall keeping us apart.

I didn't like it.

Or, well, my drunk self didn't like it. However, I couldn't be sure if my sober self and drunk self felt the same. That was a mystery for another day.

I watched Mike's home as he pulled into the driveway. His dad's car was gone and every light was turned off.

We were going to be completely alone.

Why the fear and anxiety hit me now, I couldn't know. We had been alone before on multiple occasions, but nothing had felt like this.

The drumming of my fingers drew more intense as my heart knocked against my ribcage. My mouth was dry as I moved my spit around with a flick of my tongue. I twisted my head, letting my brown locks shadow my face and red cheeks.

He led me into his house, always two steps ahead. We got our shoes off, piling them by the wall, in silence. He took the jacket from my shoulders. I shuddered as the warmth left and more skin was exposed. I should have worn something different.

I fidgeted with a corner of my shirt, looking into the ground. Mike stood in front of me. "Let's get you some water."

I followed him out in the kitchen like a lost puppy and in some way I was. The shots was getting to my head. Mike's guiding presence was comfortable; safe. His words and actions all showed some sense of caring and I needed that. I needed someone to care enough about me to give me a damn glass of water when I was drunk.

I bounced up on the counter in the same spot where he had me pinned what felt like years ago. Another wave of red washed over my face. Oh god. This may be a very bad idea.

I watched him fill me a glass of water and force it into my hands. I took it without as much as a thank you and raised it to my lips. I watched him over the rim of the glass. He leaned against the counter as far from me as possible. His eyes roamed over me as his arms folded over his chest.

I waited for him to speak. He waited for gods knows what. But, it would make sense for him to start. It was, after all, him who wanted to speak with me and not the other way around.

His eyes strayed from me and I found myself disappointed. I put the glass down on the counter beside me.

"I'm sorry if I have been avoiding you or been mean to you lately," he said, his arms tightening even greater.

My lips parted in a gesture of surprise. I looked, no, stared at him.

He was sorry?

I cleared my throat. "Yeah, you know what, I'm sorry too."

His head snapped in my direction and his arms fell to hang by his sides. I was pretty sure his surprise mirrored mine. I hadn't planned to apologize, but my drunk self didn't listen to my brain.

"I was a real ass last time we met. You know, in the library." I bit my lip, sweeping a strand of hair behind my ear. "You're only trying to help me, even if it isn't from the good of your heart. However, I still believe you could work on being nicer. It would do you some good."

I couldn't stop the words, so I blamed it on the alcohol. That was always the easy way out.

He shook his head, the dark hair falling to form a veil over his face. A burst of sweet and dark laughter rolled off his tongue. It lasted a second or two or maybe even three. I loved every second of it. I loved that I was the one to make him laugh.

I smiled, grabbing the counter with both hands.

Mike drew the glasses from his face and put them on the nightstand. He ran four fingers through his hair to give me access to his entire face. He was staring at me. I retreated even further into the corner.

Had I said something wrong?

With three quick steps he stood in front of me; hands on my thighs, body pressed in between my legs. A sense of deja vu washed over me. Here we go again.

Thighs pressing against thighs. Heat radiating between us. A strange urge to touch him.

I'm going to die.

I gulped down worries and searched my inner being for the foul-mouthed drunk I was. She could help. She knew exactly what to say.

"You promised," I said, looking straight into his eyes. The blue-green hue carried the usual boring expression of no emotions. Yet, I could have sworn I saw something flicker in them.

I kept on going, "you promised you would tell me why you kissed me. Are you backing out?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Then why?" My hands, without my approval, went up and put themselves on his chest. It sent a buzzing warmth through the tips of my fingers. I kept my gaze trapped in his'. "Please."

He lifted a hand from my thigh, the heat leaving as well. I shivered, yearning for him to put it back. However, I couldn't part my lips enough for words to come out. I was left completely as his mercy; waiting for his answer.

"Because," he said, running his thumb over my lips. He stared at his movement. "Because I wanted too."

He leaned forward, however, this time he didn't aim for my ear. No. He went straight for my lips. Our eyes closed in sync, our lips brushing against each other. It was soft, barely qualifying for a real kiss.

He pushed himself closer. One hand went to hold on my hips, squeezing just enough to show off his strength. The other held under my jaw, stroking the skin close to my ear.

My entire body froze for a second. I was kissing Mike. Mike was kissing me. Again.

And holy motherfucker it felt good.

Mike pulled away an inch. I tasted his breath on my tongue. Peppermint. I opened my eyes to be met with his intense gaze.

He looked away to whisper, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. I-"

I didn't give him the chance to finish. I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked. Our chests slammed together. Our lips landed in a deep kiss. My hands slid around his neck and into his hair, tucking at a few strands.

He responded without hesitation, his grip tightened a fraction. His hand moved up along my spine, exploring every inch of my skin. The tips of his fingers trailed under my shirt, resting right below the hook of my bra.

Our lips molded together. I moaned into the kiss, earning a deep grunt from his side. He pushed impossibly closer. My skirt slid up towards my waist, exposing my entire legs.

We pulled away, both gasping to catch our breaths. He rested his forehead against mine, however, I didn't dare open my eyes. I felt his blue-green orbs stare at me and I didn't have the strength to hold his gaze at this moment.

He held a finger under my chin. "Open your eyes."

And I did. I opened my eyes and met the unshielded perfectness of his gaze. His mouth was pulled up into a smirk. His finger slid from my chin to run along my neck and further over my torso until it settled on my waist.

"You're beautiful," I said, unable to stop the words. Which eighteen-year-old boy wanted to be called beautiful? Not anyone I know.

He tensed, my hands falling to hold each of his shoulders.

I couldn't stop staring at him. My eyes would not leave his face. It was all because of his reaction. It wasn't something I had anticipated.

His cheeks flushed red, his eyes moving from mine in... shame?

What?

The part of me there was surprised got drowned out by the proud part of me. I'd made Mike Everson blush. Like what the actual fuck. For a moment I'd thought he would punch me in the throat.

I tilted my head, my hands moving to his jaw. I pulled up his gaze to catch mine once again. "You're blushing," I said, leaving no hint of doubt in my voice.

I brought the asshole back by my words. His face molded back into one of no emotions. The smirk fell from his features. "No."

However, I couldn't care. I made him blush and he couldn't make me think otherwise.

I smiled brighter than I ever have. I probably looked dumb, but I couldn't care. "I got the ever-stoic, hardcore, total bad boy Mike Everson to blush." I stroked a thumb along the redness of his cheeks there were on its way away once more.

He shook his head. "No. It's - it's the cold."

I lifted an eyebrow. That was the best he could come up with?

"Huh," I said, drawing down my eyebrows to try and look serious. I failed because the smile wouldn't go away. You could still detect hints of his blush.

"The cold you say." I put a hand on my lips, finally being wash away the goofy smile. "Last time I checked we were indoor." I rose an eyebrow, challenging him to say something.

However, he didn't say anything. He shook his head like a disappointed father. His hands gripped around my waist once again. "I needed to talk to you about something," he said. The atmosphere grew serious and every thought about teasing him went away.

"Go ahead." I folded my hands around his neck as a light and warm smile settled on my lips.

He didn't let go of me as he leaned his face closer. He brushed a kiss to my forehead before whispering, "I think I might li-"

His words got caught off by the front door opening. It banged against the wall. I flinched, pulling closer towards Mike.

His head snapped in the direction of the hall. Every muscle tensed. "Fuck," he said, his hands straying from my skin and taking the heath with him. Maybe it was cold in here after all.

I tried to search for answers on his face, but he kept a close eye to the half-closed kitchen door.

He took a step away from me, my hands slipping from his neck. They fell to land on my bare thighs.

"Stay here," he said, without even looking at me. I parted my lips to say something, but I couldn't. I sat there watching him walk away and into the hallway, closing the door shut after him.

I jumped down from the counter, pulling down my skirt. Who the hell was that?

I walked towards the door, however, stopping mid-step when I heard the newcomer speak. "I wouldn't have thought you to be awake, son."

The deep male voice's words were slurred, however, the last word was clear as day. He had called Mike son, which only meant one thing. One thing I should have known from the second the door burst open.

This was Mike's father.