Be Careful What You Wish For. 3

Be Careful What You Wish For.

Still Grace's P.O.V.

After bathing I wrapped myself in a towel and tiptoed back into the bedroom. Peering over at Michael I noticed his position had changed but he still seemed like he was soundly sleeping. Quietly, I grabbed some black jeans and a grey T-shirt with some underwear and took them into the living room where I got dressed, so that I wouldn't disturb Michael.

In the kitchen I popped the kettle on and busied myself with making tea for myself and Mike. Once the tea had brewed I decided that I'd take it to Michael and gently wake him up. We were going back to Neverland today and I doubt he wanted to set off late.

I grabbed the two cups of tea and walked into the bedroom, putting mine on the dresser and keeping a hold of Mike's I went over and placed his mug on the bedside table. I touched his shoulder and nudged him slightly. I stroked his cheek and he disturbed a little, scrunching up his nose and exhaling deeply, he shifted a little and turned in my direction.

"Mike?" I whispered, half smiling at how adorable he was.

His eyes eventually flickered open and the pools of chocolate brown met me.

He immediately but sleepily smiled when he saw me, which made my heart go all fuzzy, to know that I was his reason to smile as soon as he awoke.

"Morning..." I whispered again as he began to stretch and lazily sit up in bed.

"Good morning, baby..." he answered, putting a hand to his head and slightly wincing as he leaned his head against the board of the bed.

I sneakily smiled to myself. That must be the hangover headache he was witnessing.

"How are you feeling?" I asked as I handed him his cup of tea.

He sniggered and looked at me through the corner of his eye, "Like I've been hit by a train...you?" He giggled.

I sat on the side of the bed with him, "Absolutely fine...you've got a hangover then?"

"From hell." He groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut, groaning.

I squeezed his hand as he took a sip of the tea, "Not used to all that alcohol are you?" I teased.

"I'm never doing that again." He moaned.

A wave of guilt washed over me and I looked away from him, staring at the floor, feeling awful that he felt ill this morning because I had made him drink last night.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked. His voice croaky, partly from his freshly awoken state and partly from the alcohol that went down his throat last night.

I glanced at him quickly, faking a smile, "Yeah...I'm gonna get my stuff packed up." I got up, avoiding his eye contact and went into the closet to retrieve my clothes. Feeling awful, not ill and hungover but stupid and guilty.

I could feel his eyes on me, watching me. Probably trying to figure out why I was acting the way I was.

"Grace?" He asked, suspiciously.

"Mmm?" I responded with my back turned to him.

"There's something the matter." He said sternly.

I turned to him quickly, "No there isn't..." I said matter of factly and turned around again.

There was a long pause whilst I put all my belongings in my suitcase.

He had gotten out of bed and gone to get a shower, I made the bed now that he was out of it but I still felt so angry and upset with myself.

He knew there was something wrong but I wasn't about to make an even bigger fool out of myself by telling him.

I sat in the living room waiting for him to get ready and pack. As much as I liked it here I was desperate to go back to Neverland and run away for a while.

Take myself off on a long and lonesome walk.

And maybe I should sleep in my own room tonight too.

"Ray is almost here to pick us up, you seem pretty eager to get out of here." He shyly smiled as he walked into the room, messing with the cuff of a shirt he was wearing.

"No...I just thought you wouldn't want to hang around..." I lied.

"Well...I was actually going to suggest another night here...but you're all packed now, and Ray is coming to get us, so it doesn't matter." He looked down at the floor and licked his lips.

Shit. Now I felt 100x times worse.

"We can stay...I can unpack." I stood up.

"No, umm. I should get back anyway...I have some...work to do." He stammered.

He hated me. He hated what I did to him and he hates me for how he felt right now. He hated me for ruining this potential romantic getaway and wanting to go home. He hated me so much he was going to work for the first time since I actually got here.
I'd ruined everything.
He didn't even want to look at me.