Caught in a Storm

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I shuffled in my sleep but to no avail, because for some reason I couldn't move, it was as if something were holding me back. I was way too exhausted to open my eyes to check so I just stayed put in my spot and let sleep take over once again.

I didn't know how long I slept thereafter but I was once again interrupted when I felt a little chill – or even a breeze. I grabbed the duvet to cover myself, I didn't know how but I was hardly covered, my legs and tummy were bare, and I could feel goosebumps on my exposed skin as the chilly breeze hit me.

"What the hell?" I sleepily murmured when I used a lot more force to pull the duvet, but it refused to move. I sighed and struggled to open one eye and if I weren't so cold, I wouldn't have even woken up. My eyes were sticky, and I had to blink a few times until my vision was clear. Once open the first thing that came to sight was a curtain, flowing in the wind, and behind that curtain was an open glass door.

'Where am I? I don't recall opening a balcony door or having a balcony at all.' I asked myself, my mind was so fuzzy, and the sleep deprivation didn't help either.

I looked around the room and it dawned on me I was in a hotel room – which wasn't odd because that's where I've been waking up for the last five mornings. I frowned when I looked down and noticed I was still wearing the previous night's dress; half my body was covered, and the other half wasn't. My dress had lifted really high, sitting up in a bunch at my waist and sat terrible askew.

I tried to turn to my side but there was something firm and heavy preventing me from doing so. I could turn my neck, so I pushed at it and that's when I heard a soft groan and with that, I felt a wind of breath fan against my neck.

I froze and ignored the pace my heart was racing at; I needed to think and focus so I could recall the events of the previous night. I calmed myself down by taking in a deep breath and lifted my neck to noticed a hand – a rather hairy hand, wrapped around my midriff. To make matters worse, I could feel one leg wrapped between mine.

I exhaled, "Okay, think Mila, think." I whispered under my breath.

My mind rushed through the events which happened just when we reached Denver, thereafter it slowed down and played back to the events after the rooftop bar and even though it was a haze, I recalled every little thing Mitchell and I got up to. From licking salt off each other's bodies to singing karaoke together. I remembered dancing on his balcony to the happy birthday song and then we lay on his bed and talked until we fell asleep.

"Oh my God." I sighed, falling back onto the pillow.

I couldn't remember when last I had such a wild night, I drank so much, and to make matters worse, I opened up to Mitchell about things that not even Faith knew. I would've been less mortified if I hooked up him.

The word hook-up caught my attention. I looked back down at Mitchell's arm firmly wrapped around me, his body was so close to me that I could feel his chest rise and drop as he breathed.

I was fully awake, my mind was going crazy thinking if we did do something the previous night, I generally always recalled most of my drunk shenanigans and I did not recall doing anything with Mitchell. But then why was he spooning me? I clearly remember falling off to sleep on top of the covers and now I was beneath them. I wasn't one hundred percent sure, but Mitchell felt very shirtless from behind me.

I needed to calm down and not start to panic, even though I was very close to doing just that. I mean if we did hook-up would it be that bad? We did almost do it once. I shook my head, no if we did do anything I'd know, there would be more evidence than just a shirtless Mitchell spooning me. Besides, I was still wearing my dress, so I was clearly overthinking. 

I, however, wanted him to move away from me because I hated anyone in my space, let alone cuddling me.

"Mitchell." I called, my voice was croaky, so I cleared my throat.

"Mitchell, wake up." I called more loudly.

He didn't wake, all I got in return was a groan and to my horror, his arm wrapped more tightly around me.

My eyes widened, wondering why the hell he would do that. We hated each other and here he was cuddling me as if I were his favorite teddy bear.

"Mitc-" I began but trailed off when I spotted something sitting on the table directly opposite to me.

I looked at the white and grey bird sitting on the table, it wasn't doing anything. It was just sitting there, and its little beady eyes were moving from left to right. I loved all the flora and fauna, but I preferred it if they remained away from me. Birds could fly which meant that little pigeon could easily fly over and poke my eye.

"Mitchell!" I called his name much louder.

"Mmm." He groggily moaned.

My eyes widened when the bird lifted one wing and turned on the table, directly facing me. I took in a calming breath and cursed the idiot laying beside me, he forgot to close the door the previous night and now we had an unwanted visitor in the room. To make matters worse, the rooster refused to wake up this morning.

The bird moved again and that was when I decided I couldn't play nice anymore. Mitchell blatantly ignored me calling his name, so I had to step up my game. I glanced at his hand which was firmly wrapped around my waist before I brought my free hand up and pinched his arm as hard as I could.

"Ah!" Mitchell hissed.

"What the hell?" He breathed.

I could tell that he was finally awake because his arm loosened, and he stretched his legs. My concentration was still on the bird and I wasn't sure if it was in my mind, but it looked as if it was looking at me.

"Mitchell." I began in a whisper, thinking the bird would hear me if I shouted.

"Mila?" His voice sounded confused.

"What..." He trailed off and I was guessing he was thinking the same thing I was when I just woke up.

The bird flapped its wings and I let out a small whimper.

"You can reminisce about last night later," I said in one breath and then pointed in the direction of the bird, "For now, get rid of that bird before it chews on my eyeball for breakfast."

"What are you talking about?" Mitchell asked in a very groggy voice.

The bird flapped its wings and hopped down from the table to the chair in front.

"Ah!" I instinctively shrieked and moved backward, molding my entire back against Mitchell's body.

"There's a freaking bird in the room because you forgot to close the door last night." I told Mitchell.

The bird was walking around the chair and I kept on moving backward, even though there was nowhere to move, I still pushed myself further back.

"Mitchell!" I yelled his name when he didn't do anything but just sat there, "Get rid of it!"

The bird flew off the chair and moved onto the couch on the opposite direction.

"Oh my God!" I shrieked while I covered my face and moved so backward that almost half my body was on Mitchell's.

Mitchell let out a soft groan under his breath before he moved his hands from my waist and placed it over my belly. He held me firmly, in an attempt to stop me from wriggling.

I felt his breath at the side of my beck when he said, "Mila... Stop moving against me."

I couldn't believe this guy; he was complaining about me moving about instead of doing something about it. I told him I wanted the bird out of the room – I could've just left but I was afraid if I made one step, it would fly in my direction and assault my face. But in true stubborn Mitchell fashion, he refused to tackle the problem at hand and make something else out of it.

"I would but there is a bird in the-" I began to protest but he pressed his hand further down on my stomach, trying his best to stop me from moving.

"Stop Mila." He said more firmly.

It came to my attention what he meant and not only that, I just realized that almost the entire back of my body was pretty much molded onto the front of his. I could feel the heat from his body radiate onto every little inch of my skin, through my dress and on to the parts of my body which were exposed.

His leg was still tangled between mine, his hand firmly on my belly and his face a mere centimeter or so away from mine; I could feel his breath at the back of my neck.

"How can you be hard when I'm freaking out over a bird that could mutate my brains?" I snapped at him.

"I'm not..." He trailed off and seemed to be gathering his thoughts before he continued, "I am not turned on by your fear, I just need you to stop grinding your ass against me."

"So, you admit that you're turned on?" I blurted.

He took in a deep breath and said coolly, "I'm a guy and its morning, it has nothing to do with being turned on, so don't flatter yourself."

'Ew, he really is all excited down there. Talk about awkward.' I mentally said to myself, scrunching my nose. I knew if I moved closer to him, I'd most likely feel it and I did not want that.

I immediately stopped moving and sat still. He gently removed his hand from my stomach before he untangled his leg and then removed all contact from me. The warmth his body offered was gone and was replaced with the chill of the slight breeze coming into the room from the open door.

He stood up and mumbled something incoherent under his breath as he walked around the bed to where the bird was sitting. When he was in my view, I noticed how unruly his hair was and noticed he was wearing nothing by boxers, which were hanging dangerously low on his waist.

Mitchell bent down slowly, I watched as the very lean muscles on his back flexed when he reached down for the bird with both his hands.

The bird fluttered its wings, I couldn't risk it coming anywhere near me, so I grabbed the white duvet which Mitchell hogged to himself and covered my face with it.

I heard the door shut after a short while, so thinking it was safe I removed the duvet and peeked up at a grumpy looking Mitchell making his way to the bed.

"Scared of a freaking pigeon." He murmured under his breath.

"Only because my eyes are too pretty to be poked." I retorted.

"The pigeon had a massage, it said to tell you to get out of my bed and go to your own damn room." He bitterly told me.

"If you can't handle being in one bed with me, don't go blaming the bird." I retorted.

"Or maybe you just enjoy sleeping with me more than you're letting on." He fired back with a smug look on his face.

"I wasn't the one who woke up with hard evidence of your excitement." I shot back.

He clenched his jaw, "I told you it wasn't you but mor-"

I dismissively waved him off, "Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that."

Unbothered by him, I stretched and rolled over to sleep on my belly. I placed one hand underneath the pillow and got comfortable – it was way too early to be bickering with Mitchell.

"Are you seriously going to still sleep here?" He questioned.

"I don't care if you sleep here or on the balcony, just as long as you keep your hands and boner far away from me." I answered.

He didn't say anything but just glared at me while he walked around the bed to his side. He pulled open the covers harshly and left me exposed. I watched as his annoyed eyes changed to a different kind of gaze that I couldn't quite decipher. His eyes moved from my face to my legs where it stayed longer than usual.

'Tell me he did not just remove the duvet off me just as soon as I got comfortable and ready to sleep again.' I thought with annoyance starting to build up in me. I hated it when someone did that, it made me mad and he knew that because just a few days ago he did the same to wake me.

"Puta mierda!" I cursed him as I sat up, grabbed the duvet, and covered myself again.

The bed dipped when Mitchell got in and I glowered bitterly at him. He didn't look affected, he looked smug and that just made me grow angrier at him. But sleep was more on my mind, so I decided to do the civil thing and be quiet instead of arguing with him.

Just as soon as my eyes closed, Mitchell's annoying voice forced them to open again.

"Cute panties." He teased.

I grinned humourlessly at him, "I'll get you the exact kind for your birthday."

He rested his hand under the pillow and turned on his side to face me. His lips twitched at the sides when he smirked.

"Or," He began and looked downwards before his gaze met mine again, holding a mischief spark, "You could take yours off right now and gift them to me for your birthday."

I was now convinced he still had alcohol in his system. There was no way a sober Mitchell would be that bold with me.

"Are you still drunk?" I asked.

He chuckled, "It's six-thirty am and we only slept after three this morning, so yeah I'm still a little buzzed."

'I knew it, in fact now looking at him up close I can see it in his eyes. There is no way a sober Mitchell will flirt with me like this, in fact, I'm still not over his behavior from yesterday.' I thought to myself.

Mitchell might've needed alcohol to flirt with me, but I didn't need it. By now he should've known that I wasn't like other girls who got annoyed or flustered, I fought back with interest.

"Okay," I drawled, "I'll remove mine if you remove your boxers first." I smirked.

He shot his eyebrows up in amusement, "Are you seriously up for that?"

I lowered my gaze down before I looked up at him, "Forget me, I know for a fact that you're up for it."

He extended his hand and lightly brushed the back of my arm with his knuckles.

"Tempting Mils," He said softly, "But we have a long drive ahead of us today and I need my rest, so raincheck?"

My mind was fuzzy, but I recalled me turning him down in a familiar way the previous night, I was taken aback that his memory was still so good despite being intoxicated by alcohol.

He removed his arm and the expression he wore told me that my thoughts were correct, he was playing the tit-for-tat game. I was impressed, to say the least, at least he wasn't broody and was still being a little fun. He turned to the other side and pulled the covers up, covering him from his torso downwards.

"Well played Clarke." I complimented him before I turned to the other side too and allowed myself to sleep for another couple of hours.

**

I woke up around ten-am to an empty bed, Mitchell once again was up before me and in the shower. I got up and headed to the room I was supposed to sleep in and made my way to the bathroom to shower and get ready.

After I was done with my morning routine, I was sitting downstairs crossed-legged on the couch, dressed in a powder blue, cold shoulder romper and my hair was sitting damp in natural waves. I was currently listening to my Abuela talk about the day I was born and how excited she and my grandfather were to have finally become grandparents. She always called me on my birthday first thing and told me the exact same story.

I adored her and my grandfather, but I wanted to cut the call short because my head felt like a busy construction site. The alcohol had left my system completely and I was terribly hungover, I had a pounding headache and just before I got in the shower, I threw up about everything I consumed the previous day.

My stomach was empty, and I felt a little malaise, but the mere thought of food made me want to throw up again. My grandmother's loud voice over the phone was not helping at all.

"Mi pequeña princesa." My Abuela said and I could imagine the way her eyes wrinkled at the corners when she smiled.

"You were the best thing your mama ever gave us, always remember that cariño." She added.

"Si Abuela, lo se." I attempted a smile, but I was feeling too much like crap to engage in a long conversation.

"So, how are you going to celebrate turning twenty-two?" She asked me.

I rubbed my temples, "Um, you know I haven't celebrated my birthday in a long time. So, it'll just be another day for me. Besides I'm most likely reaching Vegas to meet Faith today."

I heard her sigh sadly before she said, "I think you should change that hija, you're young only once and since you are going to be in Vegas, make memories there."

Not in the mood to argue I agreed with her, "Alright, I'll make the best of it."

"Buena," I could practically hear the smile on her face, "Speak to your Papa. te quiero hija."

"Feliz cumpleaños mi amor." My grandfather's voice cheered.

I couldn't stop the smile on my face when I heard his voice. He preferred speaking Spanish because he felt that English was taking over the world. The smile never left my face as he spoke, he was a man of very few words but when he did speak, it could brighten anyone's day.

"Te extraño mucho Mila, vuelve pronto a casa." He said and I nodded even though he couldn't see me.

"Si, pronto Papa." I assured him that I would be home soon.

"Te quiero, hija." He said and I knew he was ready to hang up.

"Un beso." I replied and hung up.

I missed my grandparents so much, but I also didn't know if I would be seeing them when I got back to New York. My mom was in Queens and I needed to be around her more than anything. But maybe I could've convinced them to come over and visit, it would be easier for everyone that way.

"Do your grandparents not understand English?" I was startled by Mitchell's voice.

I looked up from my phone screen to see him standing a few feet from me. He had a disgusting looking green drink in his hand that just by looking at it made me want to gag. I wondered how long he was standing there and listening in on my conversation, knowing him he was there for a long time eavesdropping because he was that nosey.

"Nosey much?" I snapped at him.

"Curious much." He stated, making his way to me.

"How's the head?" He asked with a tint of humor in his tone.

"Ugh," I groaned and threw my neck backward, "Don't even ask."

"That bad eh?" He replied.

I looked back at him and I just noticed how fresh and rejuvenated he looked – one would never say the man was drunk out of his mind the previous night. I wondered what his superpower was because I sure as hell needed some of that with the way I was feeling.

"Why aren't you feeling as if you were run over by a truck?" I asked him.

He handed me the tall glass with the thick, green liquid, "Because of this."

I looked at that drink in disgust and shook my head, "No thanks, I'd rather die than drink forest puke."

He gave me a look and insisted I take the drink, "It's an old Clarke remedy, it was created by the original Mitchell Clarke – my great grandfather. Believe me, it is worth every disgusting minute you take to drink it."

I gulped and looked at the glass, it looked as if a couple of trees puked into the glass. I sighed and took it; I was desperate to get rid of my damn hangover.

I twisted my face in absolute disgust when I brought my nose to the top of the glass and smelt the liquid. It smelt like a garden, but a garden that was put in a juicer.

"I can't." I choked.

"Mila, I do not have time for your tantrums. Drink it so we can leave, we're already late as it is." Mitchell scolded me as if I were a child refusing to eat her broccoli.

"But it looks

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