The Prelude of Ella and Micha (The Secret 0.5)(11)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

“Okay.” I follow her up the stairs anyway, just to make sure she gets there. Then I help her get into bed and pull the covers over her.

“I’m pretty sure I can fly, Ella May,” she whispers right before she passes out.

After I tuck her in, I pick up the dirty dishes and food wrappers on the dresser, cleaning up. By the time I walk out of her room, she’s fast asleep.

Relief washes over me as I shut the door behind me. I feel a pang of guilt over being glad she fell asleep, but deep down, I know it’s a good thing because I’m tired, and eventually, I would have snapped at her and made the situation worse.

I wander downstairs to put the garbage in the kitchen trash can and clean off the plates. Then I pick up the collection of alcohol bottles and put them in the trash bin. I sort through the bills, making a past due pile and a ‘can be put on hold for a little while’ pile before dragging my ass to my room and collapsing onto my bed. The house is quiet. Still. And I feel completely alone. I always do whenever I’m home.

As my eyelids drift shut, I think of another place, another world, another life where my only concern is school, myself, and what I’m going to do on Saturday night.

Stretching my arms out, I reach beneath my pillow and let my fingers brush against the envelope I hid there a couple of months ago, right before graduation. It’s the one piece of mail I was actually happy to receive—my admissions letter to the University of Las Vegas. Quite honestly, I was surprised when I got accepted. Although, the financial aid I received wasn’t that big of a shock. Still, the money doesn’t cover the cost of everything. But I have some saved up from a few part time jobs I’ve had here and there. Once I get down there, I’ll get a job and work my ass off to survive. I want to—want that ticket out of here. I’m still not sure if I can do it, though. Bail out on my mom. Leave her behind with only my alcoholic father to take care of her. And then, of course, there’s Micha.

Micha and our pact to leave this town together.

I haven’t worked up the courage to tell him that I even applied to colleges, let alone that I got into one that’s over twelve hours away.

What the hell am I going to do? How am I going to tell everyone? How can I just leave all of my responsibilities behind?

Sighing heavily, I bury my face in my pillow and briefly consider not coming up for air again. Maybe I’ll just stop breathing. Giving up would be simpler. Letting go. Saying an eternal good-bye instead of facing the tough choices ahead of me, whether I stay here or decide to go to Vegas.

Ultimately, when my face becomes too hot and my lungs ache from lack of oxygen, I flip over to my side and suck in a deep inhale. Then I glance at the alarm clock on my nightstand. Six thirty-seven. Shit! I was supposed to meet Micha at six. Hopefully he hasn’t left, because I was really looking forward to getting out of the house today.

I start to push up from my bed, but a second later, my window creaks open and sunlight filters through the room.

“What are you, like seventy?” Micha jokes as his boots thud against the floor.

“What are you, a creepy pervert?” I retort, rolling over and pressing my cheek against the mattress, while fighting back a smile. “Creeping into my room like a weirdo.”

“Yep. And damn proud of it,” he says cockily. Moments later, the mattress concaves as he climbs onto my bed and nuzzles up against me, aligning his chest and hips to my back and butt. “What are you doing in bed?”

“Sleeping,” I murmur, snuggling into his body heat. “Can’t you tell?”

“And sleep talking apparently.” He chuckles as his fingers slide up the back of my bare thigh and pinch my ass cheek that’s peeking out of my denim shorts.

“What the hell, Micha!” I squeal, flipping over to my side to glare at him.

He’s sporting a black T-shirt with a green logo on it, dark jeans secured with a studded belt, and boots with the laces untied. The look is topped off with his classic I’m so charming grin.

“That’s for calling me a creepy pervert,” he says. “If you’re going to call me one, then I’m going to act like one.”

“But you’re a pervert all the time,” I point out. It’s the truth, too. He only gets away with it because he’s cute and charming.

His aqua eyes darken as his fingers curl around the curve of my hip. “Call me that again, and I’m going to show you just how perverted I am.”

Ignoring the stupid flutter in my stomach, I roll my eyes and pinch his arm. His eyes crinkle around the corners as he laughs.

As his laughter silences, he rakes his sandy blonde hair out of his eyes and stares down at me. “So, I know we were supposed to go to the party tonight, but I was thinking maybe we could go racing instead?” He traces a line down my cheekbone with his finger while nibbling on the silver ring ornamenting his bottom lip.

The stupid flutter in my stomach emerges again and panic soars through me. Like always, I’m not even sure what to make of the damn sensation. It’s been manifesting a lot lately, especially when Micha touches me or sucks on that lip ring of his. I find the flutter a bit revolting. Unwelcomed. Exciting. Terrifying. Confusing. Too many things, honestly.

Micha arches a brow at me. “What’s wrong?”

I realize how profusely I’m breathing while staring at his lips like a creeper myself.

Blinking out of my daze and composing my erratic breathing, I roll over onto my back to put some space between us. “I’m not sure I feel up for racing tonight.” I stare up at my ceiling, trying not to pout. As much as I love racing, I am eager to let loose at the party and dance and drink until my body and mind are numb.

“Pretty please?” he begs, lowering his tone to a soft purr, using the voice on me. The damn flutters drive me crazy again. “It will be my first time racing since the accident, and I want you to be there with me to hold my hand.”

I snort a laugh as I turn my head to look at him. “What are we, in kindergarten again?”

His pout deepens. “Please?”

“Micha, you don’t need me. I promise, you’ll be okay by yourself.”

His mouth plummets to a frown. “I always need you.”

I sigh, feeling even guiltier about the letter hiding under the pillow right beneath my head. “I thought your car wasn’t ready to race yet.”

He absentmindedly reaches across me and twists a lock of my auburn hair around his finger. “No, Ethan and I got all the shit that was broken taken care of, so I’m good to go.” He springs up and grabs my hands, tugging on my arms until I sit up. “Now get your ass out of bed and come with me. You know I can’t win without you.”