I shake my head from side to side. “No way. The last time I wrestled you you sat on me for, like, ten minutes, laughing your ass off because I couldn’t get up.”
“First off, get your story straight. I was straddling you, not sitting on you,” he says. “And second off, I only stayed on you for that long because every time you tried to get away your body would rub against me and I was getting turned on.”
“We were, like, fifteen,” I contend. “You didn’t see me like that yet.”
“I was fifteen,” he retorts. “And you were a girl.”
I giggle at his goofy smile. “Alright, let’s wrestle, but I’m not holding back.”
Sucking on his lip ring, he backs off the bed, slips off his shirt, and tosses it onto the floor. “Neither am I.”
I drop my face into my hands, shaking my head, aware I’m about to walk into a mess, but Anna told me to be my own judge of situations. Right now, I’m having fun and don’t want it to end, so I get to my feet and stand up on the mattress.
“Just don’t break anything,” I warn, pointing at the glass lamps all around the room and the portraits on the wall. “And don’t break me.”
He smiles darkly. “Oh trust me, I’ve got big plans for you when I win.”
I start to head for the side of the bed, but he matches my move and blocks my path with his arms out to my side.
To throw him off, I skitter to the other side but then whirl and backtrack, shooting for the open gap as I leap onto the floor and hurry toward the sofa.
“This isn’t supposed to be a game of tag.” He winds around the couch toward me and I dash to the other side. “You have to at least try to pin me to the ground.”
I back toward the bathroom, debating whether or not to lock myself in there. “As soon as I’m within arm’s reach, I know I’ve lost.”
He stalks toward me, his lean arms flexing as he pops his knuckles. “Come on, challenge me. You know you want to. That is unless you’re too scared.”
He’s intentionally trying to get under my skin and it’s working. I search for a solution and smile when I find one. With trembling fingers, I grab the bottom of my shirt, raise it over my head, and shake my hair out.
He leisurely takes in my bare skin and black bra. “Nice move.”
I inch toward him and he matches my steps so we meet in the center of the room. I extend my hand for him, with no other plan than to graze my fingers along his stomach muscles, but he seizes my wrist and crashes our bodies together.
He lifts me up and my legs secure around his h*ps as his long legs stride toward the bed.
“This isn’t wrestling,” I say, throwing my head back, laughing.
His lips upturn to a conspiratorial grin as he brushes my hair out of my eyes. “I’m not going to throw you down on the floor to do this.”
“Do what?” I ask as he falls down on the bed, landing on top of me.
“This.” With a sinister look in his eyes, he gathers my wrists in one hand, rendering me captive, while putting a leg on either side of me.
My body writhes. “How do I tap out?”
He leans in closely and strands of his blond hair tickle my cheeks. “You don’t.” He grazes his finger along my rib cage and I jerk upward.
“Don’t you dare,” I advise, squirming to get away “I mean it. It’s not funny and this time I’ll get you back.”
His fingers move along my stomach, dithering, before he squeezes my side. My muscles tense as I squeal. “Micha, please don’t,” I beg, forcing back the laughter. “I’ll do anything you want, just don’t tickle me.”
He moves his hand away, looking pleased. “And that’s how you win wrestling.”
I stare up at him with anger in my eyes, but my body is ecstatic with being concealed beneath his. “That was a dirty move.”
“What can I say, I like to play dirty.” He pauses, with his eyes piercing into mine as his breathing speeds up. “Ella… I’m not sure how far to push you. I know you said you needed time to get better, but you’re lying under me and it feels so f**king good—all I want to do is touch you right now.”
My chest heaves as I imagine his hands all over me and my therapist’s words echo in my head: baby steps. “You can touch me if you want… But just take it slow.”
He waits for me to retract my statement, but I clench my lips shut with nervousness and anticipation. Purposely, his hand tracks up my side and toward my breast as he gazes into my eyes. When his hand arrives at the bottom of my bra, he stops to test my reaction. I lay motionless, craving for him to go further, and bow into him.
His aqua eyes blaze as his fingers slide underneath my bra while his mouth dips toward my neck. Sucking on my skin just below my ear, his hand massages my breast and his thumb brushes across my nipple. He doesn’t try to take my bra off and instead of his hand going into my pants, he keeps it on the outside as he rubs me between my legs.
He’s keeping a boundary, so he won’t take it too far. I love him so much there are no words to describe it. I’m extremely lucky to have him. I make a promise to myself that I will work on giving him what he wants and try to make him happy.
Seconds later, a blissful moan escapes my lips as he momentarily takes my anxiety away.
Chapter 13
Micha
The next day is the transplant thing and we meet up with my dad at the hospital. The room they put us in is small, with a curtain, a couple of chairs, and this odd-looking machine with a lot of wires. It smells like Lysol and the loudness of the hallway flows in from the open door.
I read up on the procedure before I came out to New York and it’s not too complicated. The doctor will put a needle in my arm and run some of my blood through a machine before it returns to my veins.
My dad is doing something on his phone as the three of us sit there in silence. Ella is scrapping her fingernail polish off, and I can’t stop tapping my foot against the floor. Ella’s got a hickey on her neck from where I sucked on her skin last night. She tried to cover it up with makeup, but it’s still visible and I love that it is.
“Micha, could you knock that off?” my dad asks rudely as he eyes my foot. “I have a headache.”
I stop jiggling my leg and Ella slides me a sidelong glance before staring coldly at my father.
“Would you mind getting off your phone?” she asks him, pulling at the ends of her sleeves “It’s kind of rude since he’s here to help you.”
God, I love when she gets this way. Even though it’s rare, her spitfire attitude is beautiful. At least to me, but probably not so much for the people she’s directing it at.
My dad scowls at her harshly as he pushes a button on his phone. “Excuse me?”
“Yes, excuse you,” she counters. “Instead of doing that, you should be sitting here thanking him, don’t you think?”
I cover my mouth with my hand to hold back a smile and place my other hand over hers, sketching my finger along her wrist, thinking about what it felt like to touch her last night.
My father looks at me, hoping I’ll intervene, but I shrug. “You’re on your own.”
The nurse enters before anyone can say anything else. She has a clipboard in her hand and her eyes skim the papers. Her hair is the same shade as Ella’s but she is at least ten years older, with brown eyes and freckles. “Alright, is it Micha?”
I flash her a charismatic smile. “Yeah, you even pronounced it right, which doesn’t happen very often.”
She smiles at me, a little frazzled as she sets the clipboard down on the counter. “It’s probably better if you two wait outside. It’ll take a little while.”
Ella looks at me and I nod my head while my dad hurries out of the room like it’s on fire.
Before she leaves, Ella kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
She’s been acting weird since last night, more affectionate, which I don’t mind, but it’s puzzling.
Once the room is cleared out, the nurse prepares the machine and puts a needle in my arm. I barely notice the sting. My thoughts are with Ella and what she’s saying to my dad.
Ella
As soon as I lay eyes on Micha’s dad, it’s clear he’s an arrogant a**hole. He’s wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, like he needs to prove he has somewhere important to be. Micha hasn’t really talked to me much about what goes on between them, but it’s obvious that it’s been bad.
After the nurse asks us to leave, I sit in the waiting area and Micha’s dad seats himself across from me. It’s loud, with screaming children and people coughing.
“You’re that little girl who lived next door, aren’t you?” Micha’s dad asks with a disdainful tone. He looks like Micha, with aqua eyes and attractive facial features, only older. “The one who had the family with all the problems.”
He hits me in my weak spot and it takes a lot of mental preparation before I retaliate. “Aren’t you the a**hole who walked out on his family?”
The old lady beside me turns her head in our direction, shunning me with a look for my foul language.
Micha’s dad leans forward in his seat, buttoning up the cuff of one of his sleeves. “I’d like to know why you think you can talk to me this way. You don’t know me.”
“But I do know you.” I cross my legs and rest my arms on my lap. “You’re the man who walked out on the greatest person you’ll never know. And you know what, I’m kind of glad you did, otherwise Micha might have turned into a dick like you.”
Micha’s dad looks at me like he wants to slap me and the old lady narrows her eyes at me, about to say something, but I leave the room before she gets an opportunity.
I wander around the hospital halls and pass the nurse’s desk, deciding to steal a lollipop from out of the bin to give to Micha as a joke. The hospital is a sad place, full of crying and screaming people and beeping machines. It’s like everyone is waiting around for someone to die and it puts an unnerving feeling in the air. It brings me back to the day my mother died and we went to the hospital with her, even though she was pronounced dead on arrival. I didn’t cry, but my dad and Dean did, hugging each other while I stood near the end of the hall, watching the nurses and doctors walk by.
I felt out of place, like I shouldn’t have been there. Finally I ended up leaving and walked all the way home, curled up in my bed, and stared at the ceiling until the sun rose, knowing my life would never be the same.
When I reach the psychiatry services area, it feels like an invisible hand winds around my neck and strangles me. I back away from it quickly, bumping into a nurse wearing blue scrubs.
“What are you doing?” She glances over my shoulder at the shut door. “You shouldn’t be back here.”
I inch away from her. “Nothing. I was just looking for the restroom.”
I collect my thoughts about how I might end up in a place like this and I return to the front desk area. Micha is waiting for me in one of the chairs, flipping through a magazine. His skin is pale and his blond hair sticks to his forehead. He has on a Rise Against T-shirt and black jeans and the leather bands that were on his wrist are replaced by a bandage.