Michael & Noelle

"Paparazzi"

“Noelle,” soft knocks erupts on my door, “Michael’s here.”

Oh s**t.

I spring up quickly from my bed, and look around my room. I hadn’t taken a shower, I haven’t even brushed my teeth. I know he said 9 on the dot, but I’m black. We don’t know how to tell time.

I pull open my door, and instead of seeing Aunt Cleo, I saw Michael.

“You don’t look very ready,” he hums.

“Heyy . . .” I drawl, leaning on the edge of my door, “no – I’m – I’m actually ready. I’ve BEEN ready since 8, I just crawled back into my pjs . . . and . . .  took a nap because . . .”

“Maybe you should just . .  . start getting ready then . . .  again.”

I sigh, rubbing my forehead before twisting around to reenter my room. He follows behind and it felt so weird having a man in my room.

“You can shower at my house,” he says, taking a seat on my bed.

“Uh – okay, sure.”

I grab a small PINK bag, and stuff some clothes into it.

It was a little awkward since I was in booty shorts and a tank top, but I pushed through it, even while I was turned away.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were putting on a show,” I shut my eyes quickly, embarrassment crawling up my spin.

I continue to stuff my bag with perfumes, and my necessities.

“Don’t be a p*****t, Mr. Kane,” I tease, tilting my hips and I hear him chuckle under his breath. The bed makes a small noise as he stands, and I freeze, hearing his slow but heavy footsteps approach.

His hands wrap around my waist as I leaned into his body.

“Good morning,” he smooths his hands over my belly.

“It is a good morning, isn’t it?”

He hums in content, laying gentle kisses on my neck.

“Do you look beautiful all the damn time?”

I look down at my dressing table, and he tenderly takes my chin, lifting it up to the mirror.

“Wow,” he breathes, as we stare at me, “look at you.”

“Look at your soft dark brown eyes, your curly eyelashes . . . look at how flawlessly your brown skin coats your face, jeez.”

I let out a small laugh knowing that he couldn’t comment on my hair because it was wrapped in a bonnet nevertheless, my eyes locked with the person in the mirror.

“Is this you?”

I nod, staring at the woman in the mirror.

“This is me.”

#

Michael decided to stop at McDonalds for breakfast. It was more for me since he didn’t eat fast food much, and I decided to remain in the car because I was still in my booty shorts and a t-shirts . . . with my bonnet.

As he stood in line, I noticed his wallet siting on his dashboard.

I took it, and carefully climbed inside, my intention being to drop it off, and run back ingot he vehicle. But before I could even pull McDonald's door open, I was ambushed by at least three people with a camera.

As they literally jumped out of the bush, I screamed, holding up my hands.

“Are you Michael Kane’s girlfriend?"

“How long have you two been together?”

“Can you tell us what Michael Kane is like?”

“Are you pregnant?”

I didn’t know what to say. They kept flashing their cameras and even in broad daylight those flashes were bright.

The next thing I know a hand is being wrapped around my waist, and dragging me away.

“Get the f**k away,” Michael roars as we speed walk to the car. Thankfully, they didn’t follow, but I was already traumatized.

“s**t, Noelle, are you alright?”

As Michael opens up the door for me to enter, I gulp.

When he climbs into the dryer side and sits to stare at me, I bursted into laughter. His eyebrows furrowed into confusion, but I throw my head back, full on having a fit.

“I just know . . . that those pictures are going to look so terrible.”

He visibly relaxes, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Really, that’s what's on your mind?”

“Michael, did you not see me,” I remain serious for about 10 seconds before guffawing all over again, “I looked like I had seen a ghost, and I have my bonnet on with a large stained t-shirt.”

“Oh boy,” he rubs his forehead, “I’ll have my team notified so that they can have it taken down as soon as it airs.”

“Wait, what?”

I immediately sober up, sitting straight in the chair.

“Airs?”

“yeah, Michael Kane may have a girlfriend? That’s big news for them, especially since they can’t get anything out of me.”

“You’re telling me, I’m going to be all over the internet??”

“I’m also telling you that my team will take them down, nothing to worry about.”

He says that, but I’m not sure Michael fully understands how brutal the internet is, and once my picture is up there, something like that will spread faster than a virus.

“Hey,” he takes my hand, “when I say don’t worry about something, believe me. I would never allow anyone to hurt you, Noelle.”

#

Michael's house wasn’t what I imagined, but it definitely suited him.

 It was a modern design, with glass almost everywhere. Luckily he didn’t live near civilization and there were probably only two or three houses in the area.

“Come on,” he took my bag from the back, and held my hand as we entered his house. It was cold.

Michael’s house felt empty. There wasn’t much to look at, except for his basic furniture, and the marble floors in the kitchen. Everything was stainless steel, and for some reason there was a 60inch TV hanging above his fridge. There were little flower pots in different spaces, and that was the only thing I saw that gave this place some fresh air. 

He leads me upstairs, into his room where he throws my bag on the bed.

His room was the emptiest. There could be so much life added to this room, so much potential. His bed was huge, and on the other side of it was a mini office. There was a door on the left that most likely led to the bathroom.

“You wanna shower now,” he asks, as he catches me staring at the door.

“I wouldn’t mind.” I shrug, and he nods, moving to his cabinet to grab a towel.

“Thanks.”

It was a bit awkward, I thanked s****l tension for it.

From the moment he left the house where he told me to look at myself, and held me in front of the mirror until I could call myself beautiful out loud, something clicked between us . . . and we weren’t sure how to approach it.

Its not that I didn’t think I was beautiful, because I knew I was, but its something about someone else actually nurturing that soft side of you . . . it . . . did things to me.

I clear my throat, rocking back on my heel.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he turns to leave, and I bite my lip, my mind all over the place.

“Michael?”