A/N: I thought it fun if I wrote a chapter on their game of 20 questions I mentioned last chapter. I also wanted you guys to wait a little longer for the little cliffhanger I left. This will have 2 parts and then I will fill you guys in on the little cliffhanger. Pay close attention, it'll all make sense soon. Don't fret. x Lilo.
+
+
-3RD PERSON-
He had just gotten home from practice, tired and overwhelmed. They had another game soon and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't worried.
He couldn't find her. She wasn't in the office, though a few days ago, he turned it into her room. Nor was she in his. He had checked the kitchen, washroom and living room. The stop being the rather spacious hall closet. He went to open the door.
"You found me!" She giggled.
"And you're a bit drunk, aren't you?" Her cheeks turned that firetruck crimson he had grown so fond of.
"Don't you want your reward?" She asked from her spot on the floor, a couple empty beer bottles by her side.
He offered his hand, which she gladly took, and helped her stand, letting go to find she couldn't. She nearly fell when he swiftly grabbed her by her shoulders. She pouted, he sighed.
"Fine, what's my prize?" Her glossy eyes lit up.
"Reward," she corrected, pointing a finger in his direction. He nodded, gesturing for her to continue.
"Close your eyes, Mathew," He did as asked.
"This," she whispered.
Nothing happened for a few moments and he considered opening his eyes, almost doing so, but then she wiggled her way out of his hold. She stumbled and nearly tumbled and he blindly wrapped his arms around her, just below her waist.
"You caught me! Now you get two rewards!" She giggled, his eyes still firmly shut closed and leaned into him putting her hands onto his chest. He knew what was coming and frankly, he wanted it to.
When it came, he didn't expect it. Not in the way it happened.
Mere seconds after the longing ache he had felt had been relieved, it was over. And then it wasn't, and her lips were back on his. More unexpected.
She jumped, wrapping her legs around his torso. Luckily he had, again, caught her.
His hands moved down to hold her and her hands flew to his hair, tugging, ever so slightly. All the while their mouths still moved, molding perfectly together.
But then it was over. Her hands were no longer in his hair and his hands by his sides. Her feet now flat on the floor, them no longer close enough to become one. The longing ache even more so present throughout both of them.
There they were, inside his hall closet, chests rising, hearts pounding as if the were playing 7 minutes in heaven at some high school party.
They make their way out of the closet and into the growing silence. Then both, side by side, headed down the hall. She turned right, towards the living room. He turned left, towards the kitchen. If they didn't now better, some would say their little incident seemed forgotten.
For him, though, it was all but. He has still replaying what had transpired only minutes again and again. like a silent film without pause, and then it hit him.
For her, she was trapped in her drunken thoughts. The most truest of them. She didn't regret what happened, nor did she not regret what she did. She liked what had happened and truth was, She wished it had happened more often. Tomorrow, if he brought it up, she would say she didn't remember. But she knew she would.
She was interrupted when he came in, popcorn and beers in hand.
"I'm more of a screwdriver girl myself," she jokes. Kind of. (A/N screwdriver = vodka and orange juice)
"You sure sober up quickly," he comments.
You make me sober. "Always have, I didn't have much anyways."
A few seconds of silence and he's back in the kitchen and then he's in front of her, with all the ingredients to make her, her precious screwdriver.
"I was only joking, you didn't have to go and get that." She says, almost shocked.
"I know, I wanted to," He smiled, sitting and facing her, crisscross on his sofa.
They sit, face to face, crisscross "apple sauce", again in that damned silence.
"damn it, Micah," He chuckles, his hand flying to his hair. Something she noticed he did when nervous and/or frustrated.
"I feel like I barely know you. I mean your name is Micah, you're 18 and for some damn reason your favourite drink is a screwdriver. I know small things, but who are you?"
"I want to know you, love. So here's what I propose: You, me, this couch, and a slightly limited supply of drinks. What do you say?"
TO BE CONTINUED
++
+++
Word Count: 799
Total Word Count: 9805
Date published: 05.06.2018
YOU ARE READING
Hockey Ruined Me 《Mathew Barzal》
Romance"You are the first and last thing on my mind each day, Micah. That's why I-" He screams at me. Stopping himself. "That's why you what!" tear are streaming down my face, my bag in hand. "That's why I love you." He says, just above a whisper. . 18 yea...
