The Perfect Mistake

Meet Michael

Melissa sighed in relief as soon as she got out of the Uber. Every time she put her head up, she felt like the driver was judging her. His eyes were like permanently always on her and she was feeling uncomfortable.

If she knew the area in which they were well, she would have dropped down for sure. And the funniest thing was, as she was about to get down, he slipped her a piece of paper that said call me!

Melissa didn't know if he kept a bunch of them for clients he found attractive or if if he had used superhuman strength and speed to write it down and give it to her.

Either way, she definitely wasn't going to give him five stars. That was out of the question.

Melissa got into the elevator and pressed the button for her floor. She wasn't wealthy. But she made enough to be comfortable. And her apartment complex was okay in her opinion.

She got out of the elevator sluggishly, ignoring the disapproving looks of the woman who was next to her, and walked to her apartment.

She immediately sobered up when she noticed the door was unlocked. Melissa got confused. She had the key in her purse. So she hadn't left it open. So how was it unlocked? Had someone broken in when she was having the time of her life?

Oh no. Her paintings. They were literally the only really valuable stuff in her apartment. And they were a result of Melissa's trained eye. And they were her pride.

She rushed into the apartment and settled into a Kung Fu stance, making a strange noise along with weird hand movements.

Her hands dropped to the side when she noticed it was none other than her stupid best friend, Michael.

"So you thought you'd hurt someone like that?" Michael asked with an amused smile.

"It's not funny," Melissa said, her lips betraying her by forming themselves into a small smile.

"It was though. You should've seen your face," he laughed, mimicking Melissa's movements.

Melissa walked to him and slapped his chest. He had scared her and he had made her think her beautiful babies (the paintings) were gone.

She slipped off her heels then slumped tiredly into the couch. "You scared me though. I though someone had broken into my apartment."

"That's why you should get the latest security–" Melissa interrupted Michael before he could finish his sentence.

"No thank you. As I've told you the five hundred and sixty five times you've told me this before," Melissa said and Michael shot her a cross look.

"What you doing her so early anyways?" she asked, diverting the conversation.

"You didn't see my missed calls?" Michael asked, leaving the chair he had been sitting on and slumping next to Melissa on the couch.

He took her feet and lay then in his laps then started massaging them. It was a routine. Michael knew Melissa feet hurt when she wore heels for long. So he always massaged them when he was available.

"I did. But when I was in the Uber. I was going to call you when I reached home," Melissa lied, throwing a hand over her eyes.

She had no intention of calling Michael. She had planned to come home, sleep, wake up, shower then eat and laze around all day.

"Liar," Michael said, tickling the soles of her feet. Melissa wiggled her feet, laughing, then kicked at Michael, who finally stopped.

"Okay. I was going to call you. But when this hangover stopped killing me," she admitted.

"So..." Michael trailed out and Melissa knew him enough to know whatever he was asking to know.

"So, don't you have work today?" She asked, misunderstanding him deliberately.

"I don't. And stop changing the topic young lady," he said, stopping his massage.

Melissa kicked her legs needily and he continued it. Then she said, "I wanted to let loose a little bit."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Michael asked, a bit of hurt colouring his tone.

"Cause I knew you were going to go overprotective dad on me," Melissa mumbled.

"I was going to go overprotective dad on you?"

"Okay, I'm sorry Michael. But sometimes you're extreme. I know you have my best interests at heart. And I know most of the time you're right. But please, just let me live a bit. Please?"

Michael looked at Melissa for a bit of time, wondering how clueless she could be to his feelings. But he didn't say anything about that. Just motioned for her to come over to him.

"Never feel like you have to hide something from me because you feel I'd go extreme on you. I love you. And I want to you to be happy," he said earnestly, looking at her wavering eyes.

"I love you too Michael. And I know that. I'm sorry I'm a b***h sometimes," Melissa said then rested her head in his chest.

Michael kissed Melissa's forehead then added teasingly, "You mean all the time though?"

"Shut up," Melissa said and both laughed, basking in the warmth of their friendship.

***

Melissa woke up a while later in her bed. There was a sticky note on the headboard. She was no longer in the tight dress she had been wearing, but now in a big t-shirt that once belonged to Michael.

She had no qualms about Michael changing her because she knew he would never take advantage of her. And he was the closet thing to a brother she had ever had.

Melissa took the note and read it out loud.

"There's breakfast in the microwave and coffee in the machine. See you tomorrow. I f*****g love you Michael Grant," Melissa said then hurried to the bathroom.

She brushed her teeth and took a a quick shower, the hunger gnawing away at the walls of her stomach telling her to hurry the f**k up.

After getting done in the bathroom, Melissa too her phone, which had been charging (thank you Michael!) to the breakfast bar.

She took out the breakfast which was luckily still warm and pouted herself a cup of coffee. As she was about to take the first sip of her coffee, her phone started ringing.

Melissa sighed. The ringtone already told her who it was. It was Anne Marie's Psycho. And it told her it was her mom. Veronica.

Melissa left the phone to ring for a while then picked up. "Hey mama"

"Melissa. Why didn't you answer on the first ring?" Melissa rolled her eyes. Her mother loved when she picked up her calls quick. She was a busy woman as she always put it.

"I was in the bathroom mom," Melissa lied a little. After all, she had been in the bathroom.

"Hope you washed your hands," Veronica said and Melissa almost choked. Really? What was she? Seven?

"I did mama. Is there any problem?" Melissa asked, then slapped herself mentally for saying that. Now she was going to receive a whole lecture.

"So I have to call you when there a problem?"

"No mom. But you don't usually call me on Saturdays," Melissa replied, grasping at straws.

Veronica harrumphed, then said, "I was calling you to inform you of the bake sale on Sunday next week. Don't be late. And bring one of your chocolate pies. You know the ladies at the church love it."

"Mom–"

"No buts. I'll call you later dear," was all Veronica said then she hung up.

The nerve of her! Melissa thought. She looked down at the food in front her with a lost appetite. She wasn't interested in finishing it after that call. She finished the cup of coffee then put the pancakes back in the microwave.

Her mother was the bane of her existence. Melissa knew without her she wouldn't exist, but sometimes, she almost wished the woman was absent from her life.

Melissa sighed and jumped on the couch, pouting sadly. It was always the church women did this, the church women did that with Veronica. Since Melissa was ten. And it hadn't stopped since.

Melissa wondered how the church women would react to know that daughter of the oh so pious Veronica had had protected and premarital s*x the previous night. They were probably all going to have aneurysms, including Veronica.

The though brought a smile to Melissa's face and her mood was okay once again. She walked to the kitchen then brought out the pancakes, happily and hungrily devouring them.

Yes. Her mom could make her mood bad but food made it all better. And s*x too. But that was not something she had at her disposition at the moment so she was going to have to settle.

After eating, Melissa headed to her bed again. She was praying no one bothered her. No Veronica, no Betty, no work related issues and no Michael even. All she wanted was to sleep and maybe dream about the s*x god who had given her the dicking down of her life. Sounded like a plan.