1961 // louis dimucci

Chapter 19

"Now, what's wrong?" Michael says, steering his car down the street.

"W-where are we going?" I sniffle. As soon as I got in the car, I couldn't hold the tears back any longer. It was like a tsunami. Michael didn't say anything, he just drove and placed his right hand on my knee, rubbing little circles with his thumb.

"Around the block," He says.

"I don't w-wanna waste your gas," I stutter. I stopped crying but I still can't breathe.

I can't believe Louis actually said that.

"Well... I guess we can stop at my place, if you'd like? My aunt and uncle won't be home till about eleven, so they won't be there to get mad that I'm taking a girl home," He suggests.

"Yeah," I mumble, "That sounds good."

He pulls up his driveway and I see a big, white house looming over me in the darkness.

"Wow..." I say, stunned, "It's huge!"

"Let's go inside," He says and I follow him into the mansion that he calls his house. I guess it isn't really a mansion, but still.

"Hey, isn't that Johnny's house?" I catch a glimpse of Johnny's house across the street.

"Yup," He says, popping the 'p'. He unlocks the door and holds it open for me.

"My room's up the stairs, first door on the left," He instructs me as he puts away his keys. I run up the giant staircase and open the first door I see.

I'm amazed at how nice his room is. I lie flat on the bed, taking in all the books surrounding his room, how nice and tidy it is, and I notice the lack of posters.

"It's not much, but I like it that way," He appears in the doorway, making me jump.

"Jesus," I say, sitting up quickly, "You scared me."

"Oops," He smiles, sitting down gently beside me, "So... do you wanna talk about it?"

"About what?" I say, and then it hits me, "Oh. That."

"Yes. That."

I tell him the whole story, how everyone's been inferring that we slept together and the stuff that resulted from that.

"So... I guess you could say it's his fault for taking you out in the first place?"

"I guess you could put it that way," I laugh. I don't know why I'm laughing, but it just seems strangely funny to me.

"You have a cute laugh," Michael compliments me.

"Oh, thanks?" I grin at him. No one's ever told me that before. I jump up, getting an idea, "Can I go through your closet?"

"What? Why?"

"Becaaaaause," I say, "I'm gonna look for something hot for you to wear for your big night."

"I don't think I have anything!" He exclaims, jumping up to follow me into his closet. He somehow manages to not look like a frog when he jumps up. He does it so gracefully. It's probably because he's British.

"Woah," I say, opening the closet door, "It's like a sea of sweaters!"

"Don't forget the pants," He jokes.

"How about you forget the pants and just go introduce yourself as a naked cool rider? That'd be sure to get their attention."

"I don't think I can do that without getting arrested," He winks at me.

I grab a sweater off the rack and slip it on over my head, putting on my manliest British voice, "Hello, I am Michael Carrington. You may not know it, but I am a hot boy underneath all these sweaters!" I pull his sweater off and stand with my arms up in the air, like it was a big finish.

"A hot boy, eh?" He says, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I bet under all that," I make a big circle, gesturing to his blue sweater, "There's a hot boy waiting to be unleashed!"

"Oh, I don't think so..."

"You're waaaay too modest, Michael!" I reach out and grab the bottom of his shirt pulling it up and over his head. He tries to keep his shirt down, but he gives up and lifts his arms up.

I take a step back to look at him and... holy shit.

I knew he was hot, but look at those abs! He's definitely got a six pack. Maybe even eight! And he has v-lines... and dirty blonde hair trailing from his belly button to... I look away, blushing. Was I really thinking about that?

"What?" He looks down, covering his stomach with his hands, "Do I look that bad?"

"No..." I grabs his hands and slowly move them away, not taking my eyes off of his abdomen.

He places his hand under my chin and lifts my face up, so now we're looking directly at each other. I look at his lips and back at his eyes, then back at his lips. I shouldn't do it... but I want to. I need to.

I lean in. Our lips touch and it's like fireworks are going off inside of my head. I feel his hands find their place on each side of my waist, and I snake my hands up around his neck. His fingers tangle in my hair.

I feel his hands leave my waist and make their way up my shirt. He groans and kisses me harder.