Chapter 14 – Day 3 - Wednesday

I woke up, to my delight and surprise, in Michel's arms. The sun had barely risen, and the grey light of early dawn filtered through the blinds and spread across the room like mist. In the hazy light I could almost pretend I was still dreaming. That when I turned around Michel would be awake, and kiss me softly, our lips fitting together perfectly, while his hands ran all over me, whispering sweet love-words to me as he quickly divested me of my singlet and shorts. And then I'd finally get to run my fingers down his soft soft legs, just lightly over the scattering of hair on his thighs, then back up, up his chest, around his face, through his hair…

My dream was shattered by reality when he woke suddenly, stretched, and rolled over, nearly squishing me beneath his body in a way that was not the least bit romantic. All fantasises of tangling, sweaty bodies and smooth skin on skin vanished in an instant.

"Ouphhh!" I yelled into the pillow, where my face was suddenly flattened. "Geroff me!"

"Ria!" Michel gasped, sitting up suddenly and rolling me over, "Oh my god I'm so sorry!"

His eyes stared down into mine, filled with concern and tired befuddlement. I glared at him and sat up, forcing him back, annoyed that my fantasy had been ruined in such an undignified manner.

"I guess I'm just not used to sharing a bed with anyone." He flopped back onto his side, putting his arms over his eyes and, I thought angrily, showing off his arms and chest off to great advantage. There was something terribly disturbing about sharing a bed with an attractive male. Especially when both of you were half-naked. Without even thinking my eyes moved down over his chest, tracing the tiny line of hair that disappeared into his boxers…I groaned and moved away. What the hell was wrong with me? It was like I was a hormonal teenager all over again. I felt like freaking sex on legs.

Goddamit! How could he not understand the effect he had on me? It was my anger talking when I replied scathingly, "Then where do all those women sleep when you have them over? On the ground?"

Slowly, Michel lowered his arms and stared at me. His eyes furrowed slightly in confusion. "All what women?"

"Don't play with me Michel; I know you're far from celibate."

What the hell was wrong with me? I was acting like a jealous lover. It was like all the horniness in my blood had suddenly turned to raging jealous fury. He sat up slowly, facing me, which put his face disturbingly close to my own, and stared deep into my eyes.

"What's the matter Ria?" he asked quietly, his face grave.

As quickly as it had come, the anger drained out of me and I suddenly felt weak with its loss.

"I don't know" I replied uncomfortably, averting my gaze. The grey, hazy light of my dream had melted in the sunlight and the room was suddenly starker, more bare with it.

His hand came out, very slowly, and touched my cheek gently. It was unusual for him, all this touching, but right now he was the one who was at ease, relaxed. I could tell by the set of his shoulders, lazy, unaffected, like a dormant panther.

"Is it Bethany?"

No. "A bit," I answered, still trying to keep my gaze away.

"Peter?"

"No. He's nice enough."

"Veronica?"

I shrugged. What was he getting at? Right now all these little problems were so distant to this room, this bed, I had almost forgotten about them.

"Callum then?"

Wasn't it always? Everything came back to Callum. I was so damn sick of it. But it wasn't Callum causing my raging pulse, the strange difficulty I was having breathing. It wasn't Callum who I had to run out of the room when I saw him. I turned and looked into Michel's deep, unwavering grey eyes.

"No," I answered with absolute honesty. Right now, I wanted to say to him, nothing matters but you.

I thought about what Anthony said last night. He's practically panting with lust for you darling. But whatever Anthony was seeing in Michel's eyes I wasn't. All I saw was Michel; his cool gaze, always deep with amusement was like the cloudy sky above the sea.

"Is it," he asked, his voice lowering even more, becoming husky, "me?"

Such a simple question. With no sort of simple answer. I wondered what to say. Yes, it's you. Its you sitting there, your skin bare, your hands on my face, staring into my eyes. It's the way you look when you smile, really smile, how your head moved when you toss your hair back, away from your eyes. It's everything about you, I wanted to say. It's just everything.

But I didn't say it. How could I say it? This was all new. Far too knew for that. And Michel was just sitting there, so unaffected, so calm. How could I blurt all this out? I imagined his reaction, "Damn Ria, we're just pretending. This is all just a game. How could you think otherwise?"

Anthony's words were getting to my head, I decided. It wasn't really me that was feeling all of this. Just the situation I was in. I was emotional, and I wanted comfort. That was all it was.

All it would ever be.

I saw him lean closer, just a little, but it was enough to bring me to my sense.

"No." I fibbed, suddenly panicking, "No it's not you at all."

I jumped off the bed, away from him, and grabbed my clothes. I tried to ignore the glimpse of disappointment and hurt I saw in his face just before I closed the bathroom door behind me. And I tried to ignore that he still sat in the same position he had been in, as if frozen, waiting for me to return.

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I dawdled in the bathroom, taking my time with my hair, my make-up, my clothes, anything to put off the time when I'd have to open the bathroom door again and face Michel. I dressed carefully, knowing that mum had planned a big family lunch today. All the family, no exceptions. It was downright awful. I wondered how Michel was feeling, knowing he'd be facing the real family. Never mind the Dragon ladies, it was the Aunties he had to watch out for now.

For the lunch I chose a red dress. It was loose, floaty, careless around my cleavage but not inappropriately so, and fell to my knees in wispy folds. It was the kind of material that was both causal and elegant, saved from being sickish by a thick black belt at the waist. I left my hair out to fall around my shoulders and down my back liking the way the darkness of my hair looked with the red. I felt pretty, I decided. I felt good enough to face them all today. Even Veronica and Callum, if they showed.

I fooled around for almost half an hour, and then hesitated for what felt like hours before I turned the door knob and opened the bathroom door. To find the room empty. Bare, stark. Uninhabited.

Where the hell was Michel?

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