7 - Was It Good?

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

We're jumping forward almost an entire year, guys. Brace yourselves!

~

*Months Later; August 9th, 1979*                

I had been blissfully asleep... Until my phone rang. I let out a groan, not wanting to be up at god knows what time it is. I glance at the faint red glow of my alarm clock, it said it was 11:32 p.m.

"Ring, Ring, RING." My phone continued to go off. Whoever was on the other end of the line must have meant business, which meant I needed to pick it up. I reached a sluggish hand over and picked up the telephone, rolling over in the process. I kept my eyes closed as I answer my mysterious, midnight caller.

"Hello?" My voice sounded terrible, raspy. I heard a light chuckle from the other end.

"Hello. Sorry I'm calling so late." His voice was quiet, masculine, sweet. I recognized it, but my brain was still fuzzy from being woken up.

"Um, not to be rude but..." Before my sluggish brain could finish helping my mouth form a full sentence, the man answered me.

"It's Michael. I'm sorry, you're tired and it's the middle of the night... I should have known better than to call you this late, it's just-" I cut him off.

"No, no, no. Don't you dare hang up on me now. What's up, buttercup?" I heard him let out a laugh after a beat on the other end, it made a smile creep up on my own face.

"You called me 'buttercup'." He spoke. I knew he had to be grinning like a buffoon right now.

"I did." There was a pause on both our ends. The silence soon turned into quiet laughter. Once our melded sounds of glee died down I continued. "Seriously though, what's on your mind. You wouldn't have called this late if something wasn't bugging you." He let out a quiet sigh.

"You know me so well." His voice was low, deeper than normal. The change in his voice suddenly made my senses wake up, I became alert.

"Tell me, please." I spoke softly.

"I'm," He began, "You won't laugh, will you?" He asked.

"I won't. Scout's honor." He couldn't see me, but I lifted my hand into the dark air and made the Girl Scout Promise symbol with my free hand. Showing our honesty through multiple Girl and Boy Scout references had become a thing of ours, don't ask me how because it just happened naturally. I heard him suck in a breath.

"Ok then. I'm... I'm nervous about the record, Ash." That got my attention, so much so that it made me sit up straight in bed. I blinked and spoke softly into the phone.

"Really?" I asked him.

"Well, yeah. Yeah, I'm nervous that it won't do well." He replied. I let out a snort as his answer.

"Michael, Off the Wall is going to be a hit on the charts whether you care to admit it or not. Rock with You gives me all the feels! Come on, that opening drum beat? Quincy goes nuts over it everytime we played it. It makes me want to dance, sing along and...and...bask in your bloody voice." I whispered the last part hoping he wouldn't be able to make out what I'd said. I should have just shut my mouth after I said, 'sing along'.

"Wait. You..." He chuckled, "It makes you want to 'bask in my voice'? Now I know you're playing with me." Michael's laughter sounded through my phone and into my ear, making my face heat up like a stove top. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I didn't respond. How could I? After a while his laughter faded, and his voice became low again, more serious. "Ash, you there?"

"Yes."

"Oh, good. Cause I thought you might have gotten so embarrassed that you hung up on me like a fangirl or something..." He trailed off, and I knew him well enough to know he had to have been biting his bottom lip right now. My back leaned against the wooden headboard of my bed.

"You are cruising for a bruising, mister Jackson."

"I'm just teasing."

"Maybe. Tell me more, Michael." A satisfied smile played at the corners of my lips.

"Tell you more? What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about... Heh, I don't know. Tell me anything." I put a finger to my lip.

"Ok. Did you know... the sky is blue?" He whispered. I burst out laughing.

"Michael Joe, you butt!" I accused.

"Astoria René, you tease!" He countered.

"Tease? Excuse you?"

"Girl, you heard me." I scoffed at him, hearing his light, twinkling laughter. We'd gotten over our chronic shyness with time, thankfully. In that moment I felt increasingly bold with Michael's replies that made me giddy as hell. 

Take a chance, Ash...

"Well, if we're being bold right now, I dare you to come over since you can't sleep." There was silence.

"Be there in ten." The dial tone sounded after his words.

Did I just-. Fuck, I think I did just ask him over in the middle of the night. What the hell was I thinking?! Shit! Get your ass up off the bed, NOW.

I quickly jumped out of my bed and ran into the adjoining bathroom, flipping on the lights. My hair looked as though it had grown a mind of its own in the short four hours that I'd been asleep. Only a hot shower could fix this mess, but a wet hairbrush would have to suffice for now. Hair brushed, I rubbed the sleep out of eyes and checked my breath. Brush your damn teeth. No sooner did I finish rinsing my mouth of toothpaste did I hear a knock on my front door.

I didn't check the peephole in my door like I normally would have. It was 12:44 a.m. and it could only be one person: Michael. My hand twisted the door handle and opened the door to reveal a tall, skinny 20-year-old with an afro that could rival those that belonged to the couple from the Afro Sheen commercial on T.V. He was wearing straight cut Levi's that fit him in all the right places, a light materialled jacket, and I could see his fly-collared shirt peeking up around his neck. He smirked at me.

"You gonna let me in, Ash?" I let my teeth graze over my bottom lip at his words and stepped aside to let him come inside. I shut the door behind us and turned around to face my spontaneous, midnight guest. His eyes looked me up and down slowly.

"See something you like?" I was kidding, trying to break the late-night tension that had somehow filled the air around us. He almost looked like he choked at my words.

"Um, well I feel like I've been allowed to see a bit more than I should if I'm being honest..." Michael reached an arm around the back of his neck, looking away. There were no lights on where we were at inside the house, but I could have sworn he was blushing. I raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" I put my hands on my hips. He cleared his throat and his eyes gestured downward to me. Looking down at myself, I realized that Michael was in fact blushing. My body was simply covered in a large, white t-shirt and you could just make out my pale blue undies underneath. They had a little matching bow on the top front of them and even though I knew Michael couldn't see that particular detail, a part of me wished he did in this moment. I shook myself out of my thoughts but shaking my head a little.

"Um, I'm gonna go put on some pants really quick." I began to walk away towards my bedroom for some pajama bottoms, but I felt his large, warm hand envelop one of my own. Turning my head around to face his I bit my bottom lip. Michael's eyes looked darker than his normal rich, chocolate brown. I'd never seen this expression on his face before, but here it was in all its intensity. His focus was on me.

"Where should I put my jacket, Ash?" He asked me, his voice low and full of hidden meaning to me. Our eyes were locked on each other.

"Um, anywhere is fine." I whispered.

"Ok." He let go of my hand and took off his jacket, but I was rooted to my current spot. Bare feet stuck to carpet. Without breaking eye contact he tossed his jacket onto my short, green couch up against the wall. "Now what?" He almost whispered to me, taking a tentative step closer. I forcibly swallowed the nothing that was in my mouth.

"Your shoes..." He kicked them off and lost a solid two inches of height, not that he wasn't tall without them.

"Check." He grabbed my hand again, this time my one in both of his. I briefly placed a hand on his chest, trying to diffuse some of the building tension, but it didn't work. Shit, what's this feeling? One of his hands let go of me as I began to lead him to my bedroom.

The only light on in the entire house was a dim lamp next to my bed and it glowed just enough to see where we were walking. It needed a new bulb, but after tonight I wasn't sure that I wanted to change it anytime soon. I sat down on the edge of my messy bed and he stood in front of me. We gazed at each other as he slowly unbuttoned his fly-collared shirt, revealing a white t-shirt beneath it. I leaned back on the bed with both of my arms. Michael unbuttoned his cuffs and that's when his shirt fell to the carpeted floor. My breathing was slow, but my heart was pounding in my ears.

"Come here." I beckoned, crawling backwards on my bed to make room for him as he crawled towards me, still wearing those tight Levi's. Michael's lithe body hovered over mine.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked. I couldn't speak. I was in such a trance that all I could do was nod as I placed both my hands on his cheeks and brought him home to my lips. His were soft and warm as they lightly touched mine. Our lips met two more times before he moved to lay down next to me. We'd never kissed before, but then again we weren't dating either.

That night at the diner all those months ago, along with a handful of stolen glances and a bunch of handholding... Well, that's all we ever did. We never did talk about what we were to each other and we probably should have done so too. Now especially because Off The Wall is done. Finished. Finete. We had no reason to spend our days with each other anymore, and that was a bit scary now that the prospect was running through my head. Thanks brain.

If—traditionally speaking—you lay on a bed vertically, then that meant we were horizontal. Laying next to each other in silence I felt his hand find mine again. Warmth in the darkness. I stared up at the ceiling for longer than I could keep track of mentally before Michael spoke again.

"You really think it'll be a hit?" He asked. I turned my head to find him already looking at me.

"I know so." He smiled at my response. I watched his eyes study my face, and in turn I did the same.

"You're wonderful, did you know that?" I cracked a grin at him.

"You're just saying that because we kissed." I told him. He shrugged.

"I've been kissed before. So, no, that's not the sole reason I think you're wonderful Astoria." That comment surprised me.

"Diana Ross doesn't count, Michael. She kisses many individuals, especially if it gets her publicity." He made a face.

"She's my friend, you know. That was mean." He frowned. I shook my head.

"No, I've overheard—accidentally, mind you—her publicist tell her things of that nature. It just comes with the business, I guess." He let out a sigh, no longer smiling.

"Well, either way I wasn't talking about Diana." I raised an eyebrow.

"Who were you talking about then?" I asked him.

"I've said too much." Michael began to turn away from me and I reached out a hand to pull him back.

"Hey. Wait. I'll tell you about mine, if you tell me about yours." My hand rested on his shoulder. He thought about it.

"Ok." I smiled.

"Alright, it's not romantic. So, don't get your hopes up." He snickered, and I continued, "I was seventeen and it was of course outside of the local 7-11."

"Wait. Outside a 7-11? Are you serious?" His grin expanded across his face.

"Sadly, I'm deathly serious."

"Oh jeez, some guy he must have been..."

"You could say that. Anyway, I had just bought a cherry slurpee and I was walking out of the store when this guy from my biology class says 'Hello' to me and plants one right on my lips. Then he just walked inside like nothing happened in the first place."

"That's it?" His brow raised.

"I told you it wasn't romantic. You got your hopes up, didn't you?" I gave him a small smile and poked him on the chest, removing my hand from his shoulder.

"I just, I guess I had hoped it had been a bit more meaningful than that for you. First kisses should be more meaningful."

"Such an idealist." I whispered.

"I'm a dreamer, I'll have you know." He smirked.

"Ok, your turn Mr. Dreamer."

"My first kiss was when I was fourteen."

"Fourteen?" He nodded.

"Mm-hm. It was at a pool party where a ton of greats were just hanging out, grilling, chilling by the pool."

"By 'greats' you mean...?" I asked.

"Famous people, actors, musicians, producers, singers and the like. Stop interrupting." I gave him a smile and shut my mouth as he continued, "My brothers and I hadn't been allowed to swim in pool and we didn't even bring out swimsuits in the first place, but I had rolled up my pants, took my shoes and socks off, and dipped my feet in. There was a girl in the pool—a daughter or niece of someone who was at the party—we got to talking, and while she was swimming around she had decided to swim up between my legs and give me a smooch while I was looking at my feet in the water."

"I have many questions, but I won't barrage you right now. Maybe some other time, but I will ask: Was it good?" I bit my lip waiting for his answer.

"Well, I was more surprised than anything. Now if you want to talk about good kisses, that's an entirely different conversation."

"What about our kiss?" He stopped what he was doing and the strange haze that had blanketed us earlier was coving us again. I saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"It was nice." I frowned at his words.

"It was nice." I copied.

"I enjoyed it."

"You enjoyed it."

"I did."

"Well if that's how you really feel, then maybe we should try again until we get the results we're looking for." I suggested.

"Like an experiment?" Michael asked.

"Sure. Why not? We're both attractive, young individuals. Plus, it's one in the morning and you're in my bed."

"You make a fair argument."

"A reasonable argument."

"A logical argument." We both laughed. "You're not going to make me ask again, are you?"

"No. I give you full consent to touch me." He inhaled sharply.

"You should be careful of what you say, Astoria." I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Why should I do that, Michael?" I asked him innocently.

"Because..." I could tell he was trying (and failing) to search for the correct words.

"Because...?" I encouraged him.

"Because I'm a young man. I'm not bold enough to tell you what I'm thinking right now, it's still... mildly embarrassing." He confessed.

"Do you know how you get over that?" I asked him, inching a little closer to him.

"How?" He let out a groan. I was about two inches away from him now, looking into his eyes as his were locked on mine.

"You say what you're thinking." My eyes glanced down at his parted lips and I placed the hand I wasn't leaning my head on, on his chest.

"You're older than me..." Michael whispered.

"I am. By a year and three months if you want to be exact."

"We work together..." He added. I felt one of his hands creep onto my waist, slowly closing the gap between us.

"We did work together. The album is done, and it drops in a matter of mere hours."

"Don't remind me." He growled. I closed my hand around a fist full of his t-shirt.

"What else are you thinking? Any other excuses rattling around in that brain of yours?"

"I–" He stopped and gave me a look of defeat, "I'm not ready for what you want to do. Not that I don't want to, it's just–" I put a finger to his mouth briefly.

"Michael, I hope you realize that just being around you is enough for me." I moved my hand to cup his cheek, "We don't have to do anything either one of us isn't ready for." He nodded, eyes closed as he leaned into my hand briefly.

Don't ruin the moment.

"Thank you." He whispered. His breath hit my face and it was obvious he'd brushed his teeth before coming over; he'd done the same thing I'd done. He made me smile. Our foreheads touched as we breathed in and out together in synchronicity. But I just had to ruin it...

"Sex would be nice though..." I said innocently. He let out a guffaw, making me laugh in turn at my brazenness. After moments longer, Michael spoke again.

 "Have you lined anything up now that we're done with Off the Wall?"

The question neither one of us wanted to ask each other. We didn't want to part from each other, but it made no sense to pursue whatever this was we just found between each other at the same time. It wasn't the right time. My career was beginning to take off, while Michael was becoming an established solo artist. Off the Wall would only solidify his position in the music world, of this I was certain as I opened my eyes and looked up at his deep, earthy, brown orbs.

I felt uncertain. He makes me feel lit up from the inside out, like a sun, but he is far brighter than I am—brighter than I would ever become—like a supernova suspended in time now at the peak of its explosion. I don't know how to handle him, or if I should be handling him at all in the first place. My uncertainty will surely be my downfall...

"I've had a few producers give me a call, nothing major." Lies. Why lie to him, Ash? What the hell? Truth is, the Eagles' producer had called me a week ago and wanted to set up a consult for their next album. I didn't turn them down either. The money was good. Working with people like this, man, their checks never bounce. I'm 21, almost 22 I need something solid under my feet. Money creates opportunity, opportunity creates a reputation, and reputation creates a legacy. I want to be able to say that I created a fucking legacy, one that lasts.

"Oh?" Michael asked bringing me out of my musings again. "Who called you?" He knows. He's wondering if you'll tell him the truth while you're wrapped in each other's arms... IN YOUR FLIPPEN BED. TELL. HIM. THE. TRUTH.

My conscious got the best of me.

"The Eagles' producer, Bill Szymczyk, called and wanted to see if I'd be interested in touching up a couple of their songs on their new album. It's supposed to drop soon. They're calling it The Long Run." I confessed.

This is good. You were honest with him.

"The Eagles? Dang, Astoria. That's great, isn't it?" He gave me a small smile, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Um," I swallowed, "Yeah, yeah it's a great thing. The money's good, but it's also another

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net