I woke up with a heavy feeling in my chest. I stared up at the ceiling for a couple of seconds before realizing I was not alone. My heart thumped in my chest rapidly, painfully. I didn’t……….do anything, did I? I turned my head over to my right, to the sight of the beautiful Mike Fuentes asleep in my bed. Fully clothed with yesterday’s outfit. I looked down at myself, and noticed the same. I sighed in relief.
But then I remembered. I’d told him, everything. Even what happened with Kevin, and he was still here. He was still with me. I remember the nightmare I had last night, and how he soothed me back to sleep. Tears—happy tears—threatened my eyesight. I snuggled closer to him, burying my face in his chest and curling my legs against my body between him and me. He groaned softly and automatically wrapped an arm around me, still asleep.
I stayed there, snuggled up close to him and breathed deeply. He smelled so good.
My nightmare flashed behind my eyelids in bright colors, and I gasped. Shit. I was going to have one of those days. My gasp apparently was too loud, because Mike stirred. No no no, I didn’t want to wake him up. I tried unwrapping myself from him so I could let him sleep in peace, but as I wiggled from under his arms, his grip on me tightened and he pulled me back against his chest.
“You’re not going anywhere.” He murmured with a heavy, raspy voice. He looked down at me with half-closed, groggy eyes. I smiled up at him, and planted a kiss on his chin.
“I’m sorry I woke you.” I whisper, wrapping an arm around his torso and snuggling closer.
He grunted a little. “Don’t worry. It’s okay.” He grunted a little more. God, he was slow waking up.
I rolled away from him reluctantly and went into the bathroom. I stripped from my jeans and put on an old camisole with leggings. I didn’t plan on going anywhere today, not in the mood. I came out to find a very sleepy Mike sitting on the edge of the bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
I headed over and stood in front of him. Placing my hands on either side of his face, I leaned down and kissed him on the lips. I didn’t care about morning breath, I cared about the fact that he knew about my deepest, darkest secret and he still wanted me.
The kiss certainly shook him awake, because his eyes flew open. “Morning sleepy head.” I said, a big smile on my face. I felt so lighthearted when I was around him. Last night I had been all worries and fears and tears. Right now, in front of him, I was happy.
“Morning.” He replied back, and stood up. He easily towered over me, the top of my head barely reaching the tip of his nose. He seemed to notice this now because he said. “Damn you’re tiny.”
I was not tiny. I was short. I shoved him playfully in the chest and he chuckled. I walked around him and exited the room.
Making Mike Fuentes breakfast. Me. Who would’ve imagined? The problem is, I don’t cook. Anything. Well, maybe something………….and he was Mexican……….
I took everything I needed from the fridge and started to work. It was going pretty well, since I hadn’t set anything on fire. Yet. Mike was still in my room, probably fell asleep again.
Apparently, I was wrong. I heard Mike shout from my bedroom. “SAM! CAN I TAKE A SHOWER?”
“YES, PLEASE DO! YOU SMELL!” I yelled back.
“HA-HA. YOU COULD USE ONE YOURSELF MISSY!” he countered and I smiled at myself. I heard a weird shizzling sound, and gasped. Darn it. I burnt one.
I hadn’t really expected anything else, but still, disappointment stirred inside me. Why couldn’t I do anything right? I sighed, and continued doing what I did worst in the world. This was for Mike, I had to do it right.
Eventually I finished. I held a plate in my hands with a stack of ham and cheese quesadillas. Sincronizadas, that’s what my mom used to call them. I placed them on the table, and set it for Mike and me. Sophie must’ve already left for her Saturday morning jogs. I quickly fixed up some orange juice, and set it on the table too.
Just as I finished, Mike emerged from my bedroom in his yesterday slept-in clothes, but with wet, freshly cleaned hair. He looked hot.
“Hey Sam, your shower’s water pressure is terrible. You should fix that.” He said, as he dried his hair with a towel roughly. When he finished and looked up, his eyes grew wide. “YOU’RE FEEDING ME?” his voice was filled with wonder and excitement.
I shrugged. “Well, kinda. I don’t really do much, but I can actually do this so—“ I motioned to the table with my chin, wrapping my arms around myself in a nervous way. “Yeah. That.”
Mike strode over to me quickly and swept me off my feet. I giggled, flailing wildly and punching him in the back, begging for release. “YOU MADE ME BREAKFAST YOU’RE OFFICIALLY MINE!” He exclaimed and spun around, making me beyond dizzy.
He finally put me down, and held my face in place, my eyes disoriented and my face a goofy smile. “Whadaya mean by yours?” I said, blinking several times until his face went into focus again.
“I mean, I want you to be mine, and only mine.” He looked me in the eyes, his expression serious. He wanted to be something with me. He wanted me to be his. I wanted to be his. I still couldn’t believe that even after last night, here he was, claiming he wanted me.
My bottom lip quivered, and I buried my face in his chest. “Oh Mike, I already was yours.”
I felt him kiss the top of my hair and stroke my back. “Baby?” he said, after a couple of seconds.
“Yeah?” I looked up at him.
“I’m really hungry. Can we eat now?” he asked with a wide, innocent, goofy smile. I pushed him away, chuckling.
“Yes Mike, we can eat.” I rolled my eyes at him, and he rushed over to the table. He dug into his quesadilla, chewing eagerly.
He stopped though. “Wait. It has ham. Why?” He looked at me curiously.
“My mom used to do them like that. A lot of people in Mexico do.” I shrugged, and dug into my own quesadillas.
He frowned at his food. “That’s weird. But it’s good.” He bit off another big piece. “Really good.”
I smiled brightly, pleased to have pleased my man. Oh God, Mike Fuentes was my man.
We continued eating silently, occasionally commenting one thing or the other.
Down when Mike was on his fourth quesadilla, he asked. “So, if you’re so Mexican, I suppose you have some hot sauce here huh?” He asked me hopefully.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, dummy. I do.” I stood up and looked in the kitchen cabinets. I took some of my favorite hot sauce bottles and placed them in front of him.
He regarded them curiously, tasting each one, and eventually ate a quesadilla with every one of them. He’d eaten 8 quesadillas. I’d eaten 2.
I gaped at him. “How are you so damn skinny?!”
He shrugged, rubbing his nonexistent belly. “I dunno. God likes me.” He smiled at me and I stuck my tongue out to him.
“Shame he doesn’t like me.” I muttered. Picking up my plate, I reached over and took Mike’s too. I placed both of our cups, and the serving dish for the food on top of them. Washing them by hand, I observed as Mike kept putting hot sauce on his fingers and licked them. Silly boy.
Once I finished, I came over and snatched the bottles out of his hands, chuckling at his sad puppy expression and storing them away where they belonged.
When I came back, he wasn’t sitting in his chair. He was on the couch, motioning for me to join him. I strode over, and started sitting down beside him, when I felt hands grab my hips and place me on his lap. His arms went around me and he hugged me close.
“You look pretty today.” He said. I blushed, and he kissed me on the lips quickly. “You’re cute when your skin goes all tomate.”
I punched him playfully in the arm and he chuckled. I looked down at my intertwined fingers nervously, and spoke in a small, low voice. “Mike, are you sure about this?”
His eyes narrowed, and his mouth twitched downward. “What do you mean?”
I took a deep breath. “I mean, are you sure you want to be with the psychologically damaged and emotional wreck girl? You could seriously have any girl you want.” My played with a strand of my hair absently, careful to not look at his face for his reaction to my words.
I felt it, though. His arms tensed around me. “Sam.” He spoke. “Look at me.” I kept my eyes down, afraid. “Sam.” He said once more, a little more forcefully, but not rudely. I sighed, and looked up at him, like he asked. “I don’t see you as that kind of girl. Yes, I understand you’re not completely………like any other. But that doesn’t change the person I know you are inside. The artist, the goof, the cute fangirl.” He smiled at this, making me blush. “The amazing, funny, sweet, shy, and polite girl I like so much.” He took my hand and kissed it. “I know you think I could have any girl I want, but what’s the point of that if I only want you?”
My eyes went wide, and I hid my face in my hair. My heard thumped loudly in my chest, threatening to burst it open. He really wanted me.
Mike brushed away the hair from my face. “I’m serious Sam. Don’t ever think like that.” He kissed my cheek, my forehead, my lips. “I know you have some troubles, but I’ll help you get past them. I promise.”
I nodded weakly, and pulled his face over to me, engulfing him in a long, deep, kiss. I wanted to express to him how grateful I was, that he accepted me for who I am. I wanted him to know how much it meant to me that he was staying, and that he wanted to help me.
I wanted to express these strong feelings I had for him, and that I felt like he was already a part of me.
I poured myself into the kiss, stroking his face, his arms, and his chest, while he knotted his fingers in my hair, pulling me closer.
My heart, I was sure, was no longer broken or as shattered as before. My heart now belonged to him. To Michael Christopher Fuentes.

Notes

Sorry it took so long! SCHOOL AND STUFF.
I hates it.
YES, I'm Mexican. Excuse my horrible grammar please!!

I hope you like this cheeeeeeeeeeeeeesy chapter!!

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