Fourteen
921 Words
I stared at Michael as he stared back at me, his lips hinting a faint smile as his fingers lightly brushed my arm, moving back and forth. We didn't say anything, we didn't have to. I knew what he was thinking and I knew he knew what I was thinking. God, that was amazing. He was amazing. But, the moment was ruined when my stomach let out a ferocious growl, and then I couldn't help but laugh as I rested my head on my hands.
"I guess you're hungry?" He laughed as I sat up.
"Yeah," I said, shaking my head as I threw the covers off of me, "Do you want anything? I think I have some waffle mix in the pantry."
"Yum," He hummed teasingly, "Box waffles."
"Hey okay, I don't feel like I can wait for real ones." I replied, stepping out of bed and immediately regretting it when the cold from my air conditioning brushed my bare skin.
"Fake waffles are fine, Lucie," Michael said, getting out of bed and kissing me on the forehead, making goosebumps prickle up along my arms.
"You're helping me though." I grinned, leaving his embrace and opening the top drawer of my dresser to change into some clothes. Throwing on some underwear, a tank top, and a pair of shorts, I watched as Michael watched me get dressed.
"What?" I asked after I pulled the skirt over my head.
"Nothing, I just can't stop looking at you." He replied as he pulled his shorts on.
"I know how you feel." I mumbled before picking my discarded clothed up off the floor and throwing them in the hamper. "I'm gonna go start breakfast." I declared, before leaving Michael alone in my bedroom.
Fumbling through the pantry, I found the waffle mix and set it on the counter before opening the fridge to grab the egg carton. "Do you want any eggs Michael?" I asked as he made his way into the kitchen.
"Sure." He said, taking the carton from my outstretched hand.
Shutting the fridge, I grabbed the skillet and the waffle maker from the cabinet, setting them both down on the extra counter space. As we cooked, we began to talk as if we hadn't just spent two weeks apart and I was glad. There was no nervousness between us and I felt the same as I had been two weeks before: Blissfully happy. Time seemed to blend together when I poured the last of the batter into the waffle maker. As I waited for it to cook, I began to watched Michael pour eggs into the skillet, scrambling them until they were a yellow heap.
What if I wanted a fried egg?" I asked, teasingly.
"Who says this was for you?" He asked, grinning from ear-to-ear.
I scoffed, shaking my head as he fetched two plates out of the cabinet. As I took out the last of the waffles out, I set them on the pile, making sure to remember to pull the plug from the wall so I wouldn't start a fire. Grabbing the discarded mixing bowl from the counter, I began to scrub the remaining batter off of it, knowing that if I left it in there it would be a pain to clean up later. After the bowl was rinsed I turned around and watched as Michael already had his plate made.
Mmm," I hummed, grabbing my plate off of the counter, "It smells really good. I think we did good."
All Michael did was nod as he stuffed a forkful of waffles into his mouth as we sat down at the table. A moment later he looked up and grinned, as if he saw something I didn't see. "What, what is it?"
"You have batter on your face."
Immediately, I touched my face, feeling the cakey better against my skin before whipping it off and reaching over and smearing it on Michaels nose.
"Hey what was that for!" He laughed, wiping the substance off with a napkin. I couldn't help but giggle as I took another bite of my breakfast. "Oh it's on!"
I looked up, staring into his eyes that were filled with laughter before I shreeked and bolted for the living room. But I wasn't fast enough when he caught me in his arms and lifted me up off of the ground. I couldn't help but laugh as he set me on the couch, his body hovering over me as I giggled. "This is serious Lucie." He said, his tone betraying him.
"I'm sure it is." I giggled, reaching over and tucking his hair out of his eyes.
Within an instant, I lost my balance and fell off of the couch, landing on my side. "Ow."
"How on earth did you just fall off the couch?" He asked between laughs.
"It's called grace Michael." I replied sarcastically as I pulled myself up off the floor. "Now, I'm gonna go finish my breakfast."
But before I could walk back to the kitchen, Michael had my hand in his, staring me deep in the eyes, his eyes entirely serious.
"Lucie, when was your last period?"
I looked back at him, taking off guard by his question as I thought. Usually they were every thirty days. But I was supposed to have it three days ago. I felt the panic rise in me as I let go of Michael's hand. Trying to think of what to tell him without freaking him out. It was fine, sometimes their irregular because of stress. But deep in my gut I knew it wasn't stress.
"Oh God." I whispered.
"Loretta, tell me."
"Michael," I pleaded with my eyes, "I'm three days late."
- Writer
