~*~
Chapter Four
~*~
"Mmmm..." Liz moaned into the secure feeling of slow lips, moving over hers. His hand tickled up her hip, as if teasing her into moaning again into his mouth. She complied, wringing her hands in the soft feel of his silk hair. It hung beautifully at the nape of his neck, mussed in their fervor.
She felt him pushing her on the couch, and he pulled back, tipping her head up with his hand, cupping her cheek. "Is this what you want?" Liz captured his lips, his question answered. He scraped her lip with his teeth, but Liz didn't care. Her thoughts were a mess, as she was sure she probably appeared to him.
She felt comfortable in the safety of his arms, as he softly trailed kisses over the soft curves of her body. She leaned into him, and he groaned in her mouth. "Michael..."
She opened her eyes then, and what she saw instead shocked her. She pulled away, breathless with the intensity of the kiss. But it wasn't intense anymore. The once amber eyes that set her off course and made her wild with anticipation were suddenly a muddier brown, and far more mischievous than anything. They were Max's.
"Oh!" Liz turned at the voice of surprise, her hand coming to her mouth as Maria walked in on them. She excused herself, though she saw her friend smiling coyly, and she left. Liz turned, her eyes accusatory.
"How could you do that?" Liz asked incredulously. He smirked, getting up from the worn down couch to adjust his clothes. Liz remembered her conversation with Max the night before, and knew full well this was Zan. He'd obviously heard of her and Max's relationship, and decided to use it to his advantage.
Liz couldn't help but wipe her mouth in embarrassment because she thought she'd whispered Michael's name while kissing this Max imposter. No, she had. She'd thought it was she and Michael, not her and Max. Liz fumed, realizing Zan was appearing to her as Michael. Something was up. Why would he do that? And why had she been so inviting to the possibility?
Liz shook her head, and Zan finally answered with a breathy chuckle. "You taste sweet. And don't forget it." His New York accent was very thick; Liz had confirmed her theory. It had been Zan, and for some reason he'd felt compelled to appear to her as Michael.
"Don't forget it?" Liz shook her head, getting up to fix her clothes. Her time passion spent was now crawling up her spine in agony. She thought of taking a shower to wash off his touch, first sweet when she'd thought it was Michael's but now disgusting in the truth that it was not. Why had she given into Michael? No. Zan. She was so confused. She pressed both of her hands against her temples, closing her eyes for a moment to calm down.
"Who you were thinking of while we kissed, honey," Zan mocked her, his breath on her back. She jumped, moving away.
"All you can think about is Michael." He supplied, and Liz turned to face him. His face was hard, as if challenging. "Wonder how Max would feel if he knew his girl was making not only with her ex, but his best friend. Tsk, tsk, Liz. An' I thought you were a good girl."
Before she could form a response, he left the room. Liz's first instinct was to panic. What if Zan told Max what he had found out? She shook her head, absently rubbing her lips with her fingertips to rid the feel of the boy's mouth. Zan wouldn't tell Max. If he did, he would also reveal that he'd kissed her. Max wouldn't be happy about that outcome either.
Liz felt the urge to cry, but held it in. What was wrong with her? She'd always been so good at keeping a situation in control, and one movement from a supposed Michael and she'd fell into his lap. What had happened? She'd never been attracted to Michael before. Her mouth dropped open in realization. She was attracted to Michael.
"You mind, Parker?" Michael barked. Liz's head whipped to the left, and Michael's form was leaning against the kitchen entrance. She realized it was open to view of the backroom, and that Michael had seen her kissing Zan. Well, Max, according to him.
"I'm sorry?" Liz asked, still flustered from the absurdity of the situation. He rolled his eyes, and she could tell that he was annoyed with her. Why?
"It's hard not to hear your moans, Parker," he growled out, almost in anger. Why was he taking it so personally? "We need you out in the café. Next time, take it in private."
He turned, as if leaving, and Liz put her head in her hands. "I thought it was you," she whispered, thinking he had returned to his previous spot in front of the grill.
"What?"
Liz again shot her head up, surprised. She blinked, looking at Michael as he stood once again in the entrance of the kitchen. Liz looked at his stance, which she noticed was in its usual defensive mode. He had his arms crossed against his chest, a scowl on his face. But Liz looked towards his eyes, and had the distinct feeling she saw fire there. Curiosity. Surprise. Definitely not disgust.
Liz shook her head, realizing she was prolonging an awkward and embarrassing moment. "Um, nothing." She got up, smoothing out her uniform and quickly picking up her order pad before making a dash to the door. "I need to get back out there."
She left the backroom, relieved when Michael wasn't in her view anymore. What had brought on that kiss? Liz touched her lips, trying to remember what had happened. She had been changing...Yes!
She had been getting ready for her shift when Michael had come in and started talking with her. It had all seemed so real. She saw something in him that was different—a predatory look that in some strange way was appealing. And all along, it had been Zan. Liz almost cursed herself, but remembered she was working and started walking to a table with new customers.
When had she developed an attraction to Michael? And better yet, had he heard her words? Liz feared he had, for she was certain that his eyes were following her long after she left the backroom.
~*~
"Does this mean you two are together?"
Liz pulled the metal chairs up on their tables, wiping her forehead in the process. They had closed fifteen minutes ago and Liz was regretting accepting Maria's invitation to stay after and help out. She should have just let her best friend go home, because while she loved her dearly, she sometimes just couldn't get a clue. But she had told her friend she could stay, because while she could live with the peace of closing up, she would feel Michael's presence in the back. Maria was her only distraction from that thought.
"Maria!" Liz's friend looked up, a little surprised by her friend's obvious discomfort. Liz knew she was acting strange. She even felt different. But saving the world did that to you. It defined you. It changed your being. Liz couldn't say it was for the better. Shaking her head, she tried to calm down. "I've told you. Max and I aren't getting together. You know we aren't meant—"
"You say that now," Maria protested as she carelessly flipped through a magazine. Liz put up the last chair and watched her friend flip through the magazine. "You've been saying that, Liz, but I know you. Max will eventually break the ice and you'll thaw."
Liz sighed, looking down to the green tiled floor. Her friend just didn't understand it. But why would she? Liz always told her friend the truth, and never lied to her. She realized that once they had gotten involved with the aliens' that part had changed. Little by little, she was keeping more and more secrets from her unsuspecting friend.
"There's nothing to thaw. We're over. He knows that now." Liz turned to get the broom and caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She heard Maria speaking, but the words didn't register in her head. She sucked in a breath, certain that it was Michael retreating from the backroom after cleaning the grill.
He stopped behind her, and she sighed when Maria started talking to him. Nice distraction. She'd just slip out of the diner area before he could say anything. "I need to talk to you."
Liz turned, unable to do anything else, and knew he had meant her. His eyes were on her, his stance perfected, as if to intimidate her. "About what?" Maria asked, oblivious to the tension between Liz and Michael. Michael shook his head at his former girlfriend, who was now standing with her hands on her hips.
"Not you. Liz," Michael set his eyes on Liz once again, and Liz gulped. Breathe. Just breathe. The thoughts formed, but her mind hadn't registered. She broke their gaze and opened her mouth for a breath. Maria looked between the two, and then shrugged. She hadn't detected anything suspicious.
She got up, bringing the magazine and her purse with her. "Call me later. We'll talk," Maria told Liz nonchalantly, though she knew Maria wanted the scoop on what Michael might possibly have to say to her. She finally heard the swish of the door, and knew her friend had left her all alone. With Michael.
"What—uh, what do you need to talk to me about?"
Michael quickly ran his hand through his hair, a sign of pause. "Not here. You mind coming over to my place?" Liz felt the need to breathe again, but she held it. He had heard her words—she knew it. Why else would he ask her over?
Liz felt the broom gripped in her hand, and remembered that she was closing the café down. Good. An excuse to escape talking to him about her slip of tongue. "I have to close the Crashdown, Michael."
He shook his head, taking the broom from her hands and placing it against the counter. "It can wait, Parker. This is important." Liz sighed, biting her lip in hesitation. She finally looked into his eyes, and saw impatience. But she also saw what she'd seen earlier in his eyes, like looking into a lion's eyes that was about to pounce. If she didn't go with him, he would just simply pursue her till they could talk.
"Ok," Liz finally agreed, and she walked begrudgingly with him to exit the café. She took her keys out of her pocket, locking the Crashdown up as she left. They headed over to his bike, and Liz paused. He got on, looking at her. As if realizing she'd never been on a bike before, his face softened.
"Don't worry. Just put your arms around my waist and you'll be fine. I'll go slow." Liz gulped, but complied. She climbed onto the bike, taking a moment to adjust. She hesitated, looking at his strong and formidable back. He looked tense. Had she caused that? She finally slipped her small arms around his waist, and though she was probably being paranoid, she felt him relax at her touch.
He started the bike, and they were off.
~*~
Flecks of green could be seen in his amber hued eyes. His hair, a light chocolate brown, made him seem even more exotic to the eye. He walked with a purpose, a stride that no one could break or falter. Everyone had always said he was the bad boy of Roswell, but Liz knew better. He was the epitome of sex appeal. He was holder of everything erotic and everything that could make her bones literally weak.
Liz bit her lip, trying to clear her muddled thoughts by sipping the tea Michael had handed her only moments before. She vaguely remembered asking for it though it had been a surprise he even carried any in his apartment. Isabel must have given him some just in case.
She watched Michael pass by her once again to sit down across from her in a wooden stool, his shoulders held straight and his gaze firm. Though Liz found his confidence slightly appealing, she had the feeling this wasn't a mere conversation. It was an interrogation. Liz gulped the rest of her tea down and then set it precariously on the small table that was the obvious obstacle between Liz and Michael. Thank god for furniture.
"We both know why I invited you over," Michael's voice filled the room, for once calm and collected. His eyes, with that predatory look, didn't stop in its fervor. Liz took a breath, trying to regain her strength and composure.
She had made a mistake that morning in the break room. Well, two. She had—while under false impression—made out with Max and she had revealed something that even she hadn't begun to grapple. It was her strange and fast approaching attraction to Michael. When had it begun? Why now, of all times?
She was just getting over the ramifications of her break up with Max. She was trying to lead a normal life, though with all the alien pop-ups as of recently it was as impossible as it was for her to fly around the country and assume a new identity. And with all the suffocation of a life unknown, here she was stumbling in the dark yet again.
If things couldn't get worse, Liz had thought, they just did. She was a fumbling idiot around Michael—she couldn't think of anything to get her out of this mess much less form words. So she did the only thing that was possible at that point. She played dumb. "We do?"
Michael shook his head, a small but ever growing smirk lighting up his face. "Don't play games with me, Parker." He leaned forward, his palms resting under his chin as he waited for her response.
Liz opened her mouth and then closed it. Fury. At herself. Why couldn't she contain the situation? This was Michael, after all. Sure, he was a bad boy in a small town, but she knew his deepest and darkest secrets.
He was an alien, stuck on an odd planet with few friends and a low paying job. He barely scraped by in school, yet managed to pass by a smidge. He was Maria's boyfriend—no—ex boyfriend, which made him off limits in her mind.
It was Michael. So why did that make it even more of the impossible to simply forget her findings? Liz closed her eyes and then directed her anger towards her inability to cover her mistake at Michael. If he could play dirty and trap her into answering his questions and doubts, then so could she—by not giving in.
"I don't play games, Michael." Liz shot out, her voice firm with assurance. Michael snorted, rising from the chair. He stood before her, his smirk still placed smugly on his face, and Liz had to look away.
"Oh yes you do, Liz. This morning in the kitchen?" Michael proposed, scratching his eyebrow before beginning a thoroughly wary pace in his living room. Liz's eyes darted at his fast movements.
"I was making out with Max," Liz replied, "When has that ever affected you?" His smirk, though gone as he paced, left no trace as his expression on his face took a dive. She could tell she'd hit a nerve.
He turned, and Liz thought she could almost distinctly hear a growl rise from his throat as he tried to keep it hidden by keeping his mouth shut. "Normally I don't give a shit," his voice, once crisp and clean, was now angry and livid. "I was—after all—the one that let you traipse through my apartment to have a make out session with Max on my furniture."
Liz opened her mouth to defend her actions but he only continued. "Just when I had you placed, Parker. Just when I thought I'd figured you out you had to mess me up again." Liz's mouth almost dropped open.
"What do you mean?"
Michael sighed, quickly running his hand through his hair before dropping himself back into the stool. "I thought it was you." Michael paused as Liz gulped, and his confidence took hold once again at her deteriorating wall. "Weren't those your words?"
"No." Liz whispered, looking down at her hands as they were clasped tightly in her lap. She heard Michael shuffle from his spot and when she looked up she almost gasped; his face was inches from hers. He was crouching before her, studying her demeanor. What he would find was what Liz was afraid of.
"Oh, really?" he pressed, taking in her withering defiance. Liz bit her lip, trying to assess what she should do now. She'd tried to get out of the situation, hadn't she? The only thing she'd done was intact herself closer into his web. She tried to mentally kick herself, but she was finding herself lost in his intense eyes.
Lips that were curved into a smirk danced across hers in a breathtakingly painful moment. She could feel his breath tickling on her pursing lips, and his eyes quirked on hers. His hands—rough but silk to her skin—touched her chin as it made the hair on her neck prickle with anticipation.
Her breath was caught somewhere in her throat as she let her lids slide shut, as if trying to prolong the moment and make it progress in one movement. He was so close she felt his eyelashes brush against her eyelids. Yet his lips still were mere inches from hers, as if waiting for permission or some sort of confirmation.
Though she feared what her actions might do, she yearned to feel that utmost emotion that sprang from her heart and somehow fluttered throughout her body as if it had wings. He was invoking that feeling. Liz tilted her head forward, and their lips brushed against one another.
His hand, which was still parked on her chin, dropped from her face. Her eyes opened in a shudder, and his eyes were still looking into hers. She tried to read his eyes, but he seemed to overtake all thoughts and movements. His lips weren't against hers anymore, but they were close enough so she could feel every word that slipped from his lips.
"Did you think it was me, Liz?"
Liz finally blinked, the trance broken. She pulled away, recoiling, and grabbing her bag that lie beside her. She'd let her façade break down, and she was paying the price with his taunting. Liz brushed against his knees as she got up from the couch, and she took a quick breath as she finally managed to get past him.
He got up, his gaze following as she made it to his door. She placed her hand on the doorknob, gripping it. "Liz?"
Liz turned, her hand still placed on the doorknob, and she could see the question still lingering in his eyes.
"No."
~*~
Chapter Four
~*~
"Mmmm..." Liz moaned into the secure feeling of slow lips, moving over hers. His hand tickled up her hip, as if teasing her into moaning again into his mouth. She complied, wringing her hands in the soft feel of his silk hair. It hung beautifully at the nape of his neck, mussed in their fervor.
She felt him pushing her on the couch, and he pulled back, tipping her head up with his hand, cupping her cheek. "Is this what you want?" Liz captured his lips, his question answered. He scraped her lip with his teeth, but Liz didn't care. Her thoughts were a mess, as she was sure she probably appeared to him.
She felt comfortable in the safety of his arms, as he softly trailed kisses over the soft curves of her body. She leaned into him, and he groaned in her mouth. "Michael..."
She opened her eyes then, and what she saw instead shocked her. She pulled away, breathless with the intensity of the kiss. But it wasn't intense anymore. The once amber eyes that set her off course and made her wild with anticipation were suddenly a muddier brown, and far more mischievous than anything. They were Max's.
"Oh!" Liz turned at the voice of surprise, her hand coming to her mouth as Maria walked in on them. She excused herself, though she saw her friend smiling coyly, and she left. Liz turned, her eyes accusatory.
"How could you do that?" Liz asked incredulously. He smirked, getting up from the worn down couch to adjust his clothes. Liz remembered her conversation with Max the night before, and knew full well this was Zan. He'd obviously heard of her and Max's relationship, and decided to use it to his advantage.
Liz couldn't help but wipe her mouth in embarrassment because she thought she'd whispered Michael's name while kissing this Max imposter. No, she had. She'd thought it was she and Michael, not her and Max. Liz fumed, realizing Zan was appearing to her as Michael. Something was up. Why would he do that? And why had she been so inviting to the possibility?
Liz shook her head, and Zan finally answered with a breathy chuckle. "You taste sweet. And don't forget it." His New York accent was very thick; Liz had confirmed her theory. It had been Zan, and for some reason he'd felt compelled to appear to her as Michael.
"Don't forget it?" Liz shook her head, getting up to fix her clothes. Her time passion spent was now crawling up her spine in agony. She thought of taking a shower to wash off his touch, first sweet when she'd thought it was Michael's but now disgusting in the truth that it was not. Why had she given into Michael? No. Zan. She was so confused. She pressed both of her hands against her temples, closing her eyes for a moment to calm down.
"Who you were thinking of while we kissed, honey," Zan mocked her, his breath on her back. She jumped, moving away.
"All you can think about is Michael." He supplied, and Liz turned to face him. His face was hard, as if challenging. "Wonder how Max would feel if he knew his girl was making not only with her ex, but his best friend. Tsk, tsk, Liz. An' I thought you were a good girl."
Before she could form a response, he left the room. Liz's first instinct was to panic. What if Zan told Max what he had found out? She shook her head, absently rubbing her lips with her fingertips to rid the feel of the boy's mouth. Zan wouldn't tell Max. If he did, he would also reveal that he'd kissed her. Max wouldn't be happy about that outcome either.
Liz felt the urge to cry, but held it in. What was wrong with her? She'd always been so good at keeping a situation in control, and one movement from a supposed Michael and she'd fell into his lap. What had happened? She'd never been attracted to Michael before. Her mouth dropped open in realization. She was attracted to Michael.
"You mind, Parker?" Michael barked. Liz's head whipped to the left, and Michael's form was leaning against the kitchen entrance. She realized it was open to view of the backroom, and that Michael had seen her kissing Zan. Well, Max, according to him.
"I'm sorry?" Liz asked, still flustered from the absurdity of the situation. He rolled his eyes, and she could tell that he was annoyed with her. Why?
"It's hard not to hear your moans, Parker," he growled out, almost in anger. Why was he taking it so personally? "We need you out in the café. Next time, take it in private."
He turned, as if leaving, and Liz put her head in her hands. "I thought it was you," she whispered, thinking he had returned to his previous spot in front of the grill.
"What?"
Liz again shot her head up, surprised. She blinked, looking at Michael as he stood once again in the entrance of the kitchen. Liz looked at his stance, which she noticed was in its usual defensive mode. He had his arms crossed against his chest, a scowl on his face. But Liz looked towards his eyes, and had the distinct feeling she saw fire there. Curiosity. Surprise. Definitely not disgust.
Liz shook her head, realizing she was prolonging an awkward and embarrassing moment. "Um, nothing." She got up, smoothing out her uniform and quickly picking up her order pad before making a dash to the door. "I need to get back out there."
She left the backroom, relieved when Michael wasn't in her view anymore. What had brought on that kiss? Liz touched her lips, trying to remember what had happened. She had been changing...Yes!
She had been getting ready for her shift when Michael had come in and started talking with her. It had all seemed so real. She saw something in him that was different—a predatory look that in some strange way was appealing. And all along, it had been Zan. Liz almost cursed herself, but remembered she was working and started walking to a table with new customers.
When had she developed an attraction to Michael? And better yet, had he heard her words? Liz feared he had, for she was certain that his eyes were following her long after she left the backroom.
~*~
"Does this mean you two are together?"
Liz pulled the metal chairs up on their tables, wiping her forehead in the process. They had closed fifteen minutes ago and Liz was regretting accepting Maria's invitation to stay after and help out. She should have just let her best friend go home, because while she loved her dearly, she sometimes just couldn't get a clue. But she had told her friend she could stay, because while she could live with the peace of closing up, she would feel Michael's presence in the back. Maria was her only distraction from that thought.
"Maria!" Liz's friend looked up, a little surprised by her friend's obvious discomfort. Liz knew she was acting strange. She even felt different. But saving the world did that to you. It defined you. It changed your being. Liz couldn't say it was for the better. Shaking her head, she tried to calm down. "I've told you. Max and I aren't getting together. You know we aren't meant—"
"You say that now," Maria protested as she carelessly flipped through a magazine. Liz put up the last chair and watched her friend flip through the magazine. "You've been saying that, Liz, but I know you. Max will eventually break the ice and you'll thaw."
Liz sighed, looking down to the green tiled floor. Her friend just didn't understand it. But why would she? Liz always told her friend the truth, and never lied to her. She realized that once they had gotten involved with the aliens' that part had changed. Little by little, she was keeping more and more secrets from her unsuspecting friend.
"There's nothing to thaw. We're over. He knows that now." Liz turned to get the broom and caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She heard Maria speaking, but the words didn't register in her head. She sucked in a breath, certain that it was Michael retreating from the backroom after cleaning the grill.
He stopped behind her, and she sighed when Maria started talking to him. Nice distraction. She'd just slip out of the diner area before he could say anything. "I need to talk to you."
Liz turned, unable to do anything else, and knew he had meant her. His eyes were on her, his stance perfected, as if to intimidate her. "About what?" Maria asked, oblivious to the tension between Liz and Michael. Michael shook his head at his former girlfriend, who was now standing with her hands on her hips.
"Not you. Liz," Michael set his eyes on Liz once again, and Liz gulped. Breathe. Just breathe. The thoughts formed, but her mind hadn't registered. She broke their gaze and opened her mouth for a breath. Maria looked between the two, and then shrugged. She hadn't detected anything suspicious.
She got up, bringing the magazine and her purse with her. "Call me later. We'll talk," Maria told Liz nonchalantly, though she knew Maria wanted the scoop on what Michael might possibly have to say to her. She finally heard the swish of the door, and knew her friend had left her all alone. With Michael.
"What—uh, what do you need to talk to me about?"
Michael quickly ran his hand through his hair, a sign of pause. "Not here. You mind coming over to my place?" Liz felt the need to breathe again, but she held it. He had heard her words—she knew it. Why else would he ask her over?
Liz felt the broom gripped in her hand, and remembered that she was closing the café down. Good. An excuse to escape talking to him about her slip of tongue. "I have to close the Crashdown, Michael."
He shook his head, taking the broom from her hands and placing it against the counter. "It can wait, Parker. This is important." Liz sighed, biting her lip in hesitation. She finally looked into his eyes, and saw impatience. But she also saw what she'd seen earlier in his eyes, like looking into a lion's eyes that was about to pounce. If she didn't go with him, he would just simply pursue her till they could talk.
"Ok," Liz finally agreed, and she walked begrudgingly with him to exit the café. She took her keys out of her pocket, locking the Crashdown up as she left. They headed over to his bike, and Liz paused. He got on, looking at her. As if realizing she'd never been on a bike before, his face softened.
"Don't worry. Just put your arms around my waist and you'll be fine. I'll go slow." Liz gulped, but complied. She climbed onto the bike, taking a moment to adjust. She hesitated, looking at his strong and formidable back. He looked tense. Had she caused that? She finally slipped her small arms around his waist, and though she was probably being paranoid, she felt him relax at her touch.
He started the bike, and they were off.
~*~
Flecks of green could be seen in his amber hued eyes. His hair, a light chocolate brown, made him seem even more exotic to the eye. He walked with a purpose, a stride that no one could break or falter. Everyone had always said he was the bad boy of Roswell, but Liz knew better. He was the epitome of sex appeal. He was holder of everything erotic and everything that could make her bones literally weak.
Liz bit her lip, trying to clear her muddled thoughts by sipping the tea Michael had handed her only moments before. She vaguely remembered asking for it though it had been a surprise he even carried any in his apartment. Isabel must have given him some just in case.
She watched Michael pass by her once again to sit down across from her in a wooden stool, his shoulders held straight and his gaze firm. Though Liz found his confidence slightly appealing, she had the feeling this wasn't a mere conversation. It was an interrogation. Liz gulped the rest of her tea down and then set it precariously on the small table that was the obvious obstacle between Liz and Michael. Thank god for furniture.
"We both know why I invited you over," Michael's voice filled the room, for once calm and collected. His eyes, with that predatory look, didn't stop in its fervor. Liz took a breath, trying to regain her strength and composure.
She had made a mistake that morning in the break room. Well, two. She had—while under false impression—made out with Max and she had revealed something that even she hadn't begun to grapple. It was her strange and fast approaching attraction to Michael. When had it begun? Why now, of all times?
She was just getting over the ramifications of her break up with Max. She was trying to lead a normal life, though with all the alien pop-ups as of recently it was as impossible as it was for her to fly around the country and assume a new identity. And with all the suffocation of a life unknown, here she was stumbling in the dark yet again.
If things couldn't get worse, Liz had thought, they just did. She was a fumbling idiot around Michael—she couldn't think of anything to get her out of this mess much less form words. So she did the only thing that was possible at that point. She played dumb. "We do?"
Michael shook his head, a small but ever growing smirk lighting up his face. "Don't play games with me, Parker." He leaned forward, his palms resting under his chin as he waited for her response.
Liz opened her mouth and then closed it. Fury. At herself. Why couldn't she contain the situation? This was Michael, after all. Sure, he was a bad boy in a small town, but she knew his deepest and darkest secrets.
He was an alien, stuck on an odd planet with few friends and a low paying job. He barely scraped by in school, yet managed to pass by a smidge. He was Maria's boyfriend—no—ex boyfriend, which made him off limits in her mind.
It was Michael. So why did that make it even more of the impossible to simply forget her findings? Liz closed her eyes and then directed her anger towards her inability to cover her mistake at Michael. If he could play dirty and trap her into answering his questions and doubts, then so could she—by not giving in.
"I don't play games, Michael." Liz shot out, her voice firm with assurance. Michael snorted, rising from the chair. He stood before her, his smirk still placed smugly on his face, and Liz had to look away.
"Oh yes you do, Liz. This morning in the kitchen?" Michael proposed, scratching his eyebrow before beginning a thoroughly wary pace in his living room. Liz's eyes darted at his fast movements.
"I was making out with Max," Liz replied, "When has that ever affected you?" His smirk, though gone as he paced, left no trace as his expression on his face took a dive. She could tell she'd hit a nerve.
He turned, and Liz thought she could almost distinctly hear a growl rise from his throat as he tried to keep it hidden by keeping his mouth shut. "Normally I don't give a shit," his voice, once crisp and clean, was now angry and livid. "I was—after all—the one that let you traipse through my apartment to have a make out session with Max on my furniture."
Liz opened her mouth to defend her actions but he only continued. "Just when I had you placed, Parker. Just when I thought I'd figured you out you had to mess me up again." Liz's mouth almost dropped open.
"What do you mean?"
Michael sighed, quickly running his hand through his hair before dropping himself back into the stool. "I thought it was you." Michael paused as Liz gulped, and his confidence took hold once again at her deteriorating wall. "Weren't those your words?"
"No." Liz whispered, looking down at her hands as they were clasped tightly in her lap. She heard Michael shuffle from his spot and when she looked up she almost gasped; his face was inches from hers. He was crouching before her, studying her demeanor. What he would find was what Liz was afraid of.
"Oh, really?" he pressed, taking in her withering defiance. Liz bit her lip, trying to assess what she should do now. She'd tried to get out of the situation, hadn't she? The only thing she'd done was intact herself closer into his web. She tried to mentally kick herself, but she was finding herself lost in his intense eyes.
Lips that were curved into a smirk danced across hers in a breathtakingly painful moment. She could feel his breath tickling on her pursing lips, and his eyes quirked on hers. His hands—rough but silk to her skin—touched her chin as it made the hair on her neck prickle with anticipation.
Her breath was caught somewhere in her throat as she let her lids slide shut, as if trying to prolong the moment and make it progress in one movement. He was so close she felt his eyelashes brush against her eyelids. Yet his lips still were mere inches from hers, as if waiting for permission or some sort of confirmation.
Though she feared what her actions might do, she yearned to feel that utmost emotion that sprang from her heart and somehow fluttered throughout her body as if it had wings. He was invoking that feeling. Liz tilted her head forward, and their lips brushed against one another.
His hand, which was still parked on her chin, dropped from her face. Her eyes opened in a shudder, and his eyes were still looking into hers. She tried to read his eyes, but he seemed to overtake all thoughts and movements. His lips weren't against hers anymore, but they were close enough so she could feel every word that slipped from his lips.
"Did you think it was me, Liz?"
Liz finally blinked, the trance broken. She pulled away, recoiling, and grabbing her bag that lie beside her. She'd let her façade break down, and she was paying the price with his taunting. Liz brushed against his knees as she got up from the couch, and she took a quick breath as she finally managed to get past him.
He got up, his gaze following as she made it to his door. She placed her hand on the doorknob, gripping it. "Liz?"
Liz turned, her hand still placed on the doorknob, and she could see the question still lingering in his eyes.
"No."
~*~