The Secret of Ella and Micha(53)

"What song is this?" Lila is lying on her stomach in my bed, flipping through the pages of a magazine.

"'Black Sun' by Jo Mango," I say, sharpening one of my charcoal pencils over the garbage in my bedroom.

"It's sad." She frowns, resting her chin in her hand. "It makes me want to cry."

"It's a good song to draw to." I return to my drawing on the floor. The dark lines of it form pieces of a shattered mirror and I start sketching a picture of a guitar inside one of them. When I'm done, each piece will hold something about my life, but it might take me a while to finish it.

Lila raises her head away from her hand and glances at the window. "Did you hear that?"

There's shouting coming from outside, loud enough to be heard over the music.

I shade one of the corners with my pinky. "It's probably just the neighbors."

The yelling gets louder and Lila sits up nervously and draws back the curtain. "Ella, there's a man and a woman fighting out in front of the driveway."

I set my pencil down on the floor and go over to the window. There's a short, fat man and a tall, slender woman yelling at each other just outside the boundaries of my front yard.

"That's the Anderson's," I explain. "They always do that."

"We should stop it," she says worriedly. "He might hurt her."

"I'll take care of it," I tell her. "You stay here."

I pad down the stairs, barefoot and in my boxer shorts and tank top, and poke my head out the door, but the Anderson's have vanished from the street.

The lyrics and music of "Behind Blue Eyes" by The Who is blasting from the stereo in Micha's room next door. It's his sad mood song, the one he lets play over and over again when he's depressed.

The lights aren't on in the house, but the one in the garage shines brightly into the night. Sticking out of the open door is the back end of his Chevelle. There's a large dent in the bumper that wasn't there when he left and a scratch on the corner of the fender.

Walking down the steps the concrete is ice-cold against my bare feet. I spot him through the window of the garage, searching the shelf for something with a cigarette in his mouth. I watch him move, my pulse instantly speeding up, and I have to work to keep breathing.

As he pulls away from the shelf with a box in his hand, he turns his head toward the window, like he senses me out here. Our eyes lock and collide. He sets the box down and disappears out of my view.

A few seconds later he walks out of the garage. His jeans ride low on his hips and the porch light hits his chest, highlighting his well-defined muscles and the cursive font of the tattoo on his rib.

"When did you start smoking again?" I inquire from my driveway.

He takes the cigarette out of his mouth with his eyes on me. "I slipped up a few days ago... There's just too much going on, I guess."

I take a few small steps across the driveway and my heart thuds in my chest. "Is it because of your dad?"

Micha reaches the grass, just before the fence divides our houses. "How do you know about that?"

I stop just short of the fence and wrap my arms around myself to keep warm. "Ethan told me."

He shakes his head, annoyed. "He's worse than a girl."

"Hey." I feign offense, attempting to lighten his mood. "Not all girls are bad. I've always been an excellent secret keeper. You know that."

He places his hands on the fence and clutches at the links. "I don't know if that's true anymore." He gestures his hand at me. "Maybe this was who you always were. Maybe this place was just getting in the way of you."

He's upset and I need to get to the bottom of why. "You could have told me about your dad."

"Could I of?" The front of his thighs push against the fence. "I don't think you can handle it right now - you can barely handle your own problems."

I reduce the small gap left between the fence and myself. "Try me."

His eyes examine my face, looking for something deep within me. Then his head falls down, defeated, and he lets out a slow breath. "It was almost as painful as that day you ran off. I mean, he has a whole other f*cking family...." His voice cracks and he clears his throat. "Like we weren't good enough or something."

The ache in his voice nearly kills me. I close my eyes and tell myself I can do this - that I'm the strong one at the moment. My eyes open and I put my finger under his chin, forcing him to look at me. His eyes are glassy, like he's about to cry, and he tries to look away. I place an unsteady hand on his cheek and maintain his gaze.

"I know it hurts right now," I say, grappling my voice even. "But it will get better. It'll just take some time and I'll be here for you this time. I promise."

He looks unconvinced. Not knowing what else to say, I stand on my tiptoes, lean over the fence, and lightly graze my lips across his. Heat caresses my mouth and skin.

"I need you right now," Micha murmurs against my lips with so much desire in his eyes that my knees buckle. "I need this right now."

His hand cups around the back of my neck, much gentler than the intensity in his voice, and he crashes my body against his. He tempts me with a soft brush of his lips and every ounce of sexual tension between us explodes. I can't help myself - I fall into him.