"We Are Just Friends"

"what doesn't kill me, makes me stronger."

*One Week Later*

**Jesika's Point Of View**

       "Gosh, ssss.. F-Fuck Jesika.. Ahh.." Greg moaned in my ears. I closed my eyes, and sighed while running  my fingers up and down his sweaty back. My mind went into another place. I just couldn't stay focused on the great sex my husband was giving me. Maybe, I'm tired. Maybe, there's more on my mind that I don't realize just yet. Or maybe, it's Michael. I had to make it clear for the millionth time, that him and I would never be again. He had pissed me off in front of my Mother, when he put on a "show" for her. He was speaking recklessly about my husband, like I wasn't even there. He tried to make Greg seem less than a man than he was. My crazy mother, entertained it all of course. She bashed him too. We all got into an heated argument, and I told her it was time that we left. When Michael and I drove from my mom's house I let him have it. I made it clear to him, that if me and Greg was to never work out. He would be the "last" man I'd go for. I told him I'd rather "fuck" an old ragged fool, before I'd go for him. I told him that I didn't know what I "saw" in him after all these years. I blamed him for being the cause of our breakup, because of his insecurities. He was afraid he wouldn't accomplish a career, if he had continued a relationship with me. That hurt him deeply, that he asked me to pull over and said he would walk home. Since then, we haven't talked and I haven't seen him "much". He's mainly in the room most of the times, or out in the pool taking a swim. I have to admit, I "miss" him being around. I didn't mean "most" of the things I said, I was just angry with him. Greg is enjoying our "distance" from one another, he sleeps with a smile on his face every night.

       He thinks the more "distant" we are, the more he has hope that Michael will leave or I would want him to leave. Truth is, I don't want him to. I'm sure if he had a "choice" he would've left after our "fight". I know Michael. I know his mind. I know his heart. I know his thoughts. I do want to apologize. But, how would I have the "courage" to even face him again. I'm sure he hates me. Greg's hips buckled, and his lower body shook upon mines as he came inside me. I bit my lower lip, and tried to cum too, but it didn't happen. I soon opened my eyes, to find him looking at me. His green eyes became dilated, as he breathed hardly into my face. His lips were moist, and his breath was warm. Specks of sweat from his forehead dripped between my breasts. I smiled, and rubbed his shoulders. He leaned down, and kissed me. He rested his head in the crook of my neck, and panted hardly. I closed my eyes, and sighed. Moments later, I set the table for breakfast for everyone to eat. The moment was so awkward, Greg had been humming while eating his breakfast, even chuckling underneath his breath too. I would give him the eye, or mouthed "stop" to him, but it was no use. He continued cackling. Meanwhile, Michael kept his eyes on his plate and nibbled the food softly. He looked like a sad song. It was entertaining to Greg. Michael rolled his eyes, and took a sip of his orange juice, and dug back in. Greg wiped the corner of his lips with the napkin, and excused himself so that he could leave for work. He came near me, and pecked my lips. "You were great this morning, you think you can give me more?" Anthony said, while smirking cornering his eyes at Michael.

       I sighed, and closed my eyes. "Greg, go." I said, shoving him in the chest. Michael lifted his eyes, and looked at me. I swallowed hard, breaking the stare looking back at Greg. "I love you." He said, while rubbing my cheeks with his thumbs. I smiled shortly. "I love you too." I said, feeling my cheeks burn from embarassment. He gave me a peck, and walked out while cackling. "Later loser." He yelled, before slamming the door. I jumped at the sound of the door, as I felt Michael's eyes on me. I lifted them, and they met his. I couldn't read his thoughts at all, nor his expression. He put his fork down, and removed himself from the table. "Michael wait." I yelled. He sighed, and threw his head up to the ceiling. "What do you want Jesika?" He asked with no intentions to speak to me. I folded my lips, and set my fork down. "I'm sorry." - "It's whatever. You said what you had to say, I'll live." - "Well, why don't you talk to me? Huh?" I asked him, while removing myself from the table. He sighed, and turned around. "What's there to talk about? You made it clear, that you wanted to be "friends". So what do you want from me?"  I sighed, and clasped my hands together, and shrugged while stepping closer to him. "Michael, look." I said, before tongue met my lips. "I just don't want you mad at me anymore." He smirked, and lifted a brow. "Who, said I was mad?" I stretched my lips, and folded my arms. "Michael, come on. Do you know who you're talking to? I've known you "almost" my whole life, I know when you're angry." - "You don't know me, like you used to know me Jesika. Truth be told, I'm glad you said half the things you said. Because, it made me understand myself more." I lifted a brow, and stood there like a lost puppy. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked cluelessly.