When Michael got home the clock ticked five eighteen. The house was completely empty, except for a note on the counter.

mike,
Went to visit Aunt Marlow and your new cousin. Left in a bit of a rush, should be home on Sun. Hope you enjoy the weekend without the daughter, I know how they aggravate you. Have fun but no parties please. I do carry you to be a little best than Dana…
Dad

He read the note absent-mindedly and went up to his elbow room. He threw his backpack down and dropped to his bed, forgetting everything except sleep. That was the only affair he wanted. He passed out as the clock ticked off five XX three.

The sound of the bell awoke a Michael gently cursing his self and whoever was at the door. Once he opened the door he groaned and scratched his eyes, desperately trying to waken up. Zoë something stood smiling sheepishly on the footmark, her rucksack over one shoulder joint and her math notebook clasped in one hand. She smiled when he opened the threshold though it quickly was replaced with a face of concern.
"Michael… sorry did I wake you up ? ? You didn't show up, so I looked you up online and saw that write up about… I'll go. I'm sorry for bothering you !"

"No, no ! Please, Zoë, stoppage. I'm sorry I just… had something happen after shoal and it wore me down pretty knockout. seed in, I'll grab my rule book bag and we can get started. You can stay right ? ‘ kay, I'll be aright back"He gestured for her to issue forth inside as she started back down the tone. She stepped in a bit nervously. Kicking off her shoes on the tile entryway the two stepped into the large bread and butter room. The wall were painted white, all just virtuous ashen. The den was carpet, a melt off gold that felt gentle under one's metrical foot. There were two couches and two love seats, all arranged around a flat riddle TV mounted on a cabinet of tarnish cherry red Sir Henry Joseph Wood and a matching table within grasp of all seats. Off of the den were the close up doors of Michael's father's office, and directly in front of the door through the den was the black tile of the kitchen. Separating the den and the kitchen was a bar of nighttime gruelling wood, with three bar lights dangling down from the ceiling. A pair of devotee lazily spun above the gold carpet. Zoë kept herself from commenting on the sumptuousness of the home base as Michael escorted her into the den.
"I'm sorry about his place, it's a bit big… here we can figure out on the table. I'll just go up and get my bag… I'll be veracious back I promise."As he made his way slowly up the steps he remembered something else and turned.

"helper yourself to anything in the fridge, or a drink of water… anything you need."With that he disappeared from view. Zoë dropped her bag on one of the lounge and gazed around. Her house was rig large, but had all cozy furniture. This place was like the nursing home of a business leader, filled with things unused and spiritual world by the owner. She walked into the kitchen, wanting for a chalk of water. When her feet touched the tile she shivered, the coldness of the tile seeming exactly like the coldness of the home. Zoë vaguely wondered how Michael could live here. She opened up a few cabinets and was once again greeted by the empty face of sumptuosity, china and wine looking glass looking back at her from within their cabinets. The room access of the console were all drinking glass, allowing her see somewhat inside. Opening one she found the claim opposite of everything she had seen so far. Sitting in the back corner on the undersurface shelf of one of the cabinet she found two plastic cups, a package of newspaper publisher plates and some garish silverware. There was nothing else inside. Grabbing one of the cupful she shut the cabinet and looked around realizing that it was the cabinet that held the coffee tree mugs and the dishcloth.

Filling the cup with ice block and water Zoë made her way back to the table, walking slowly over the melanize tiles and looking around at everything once again. The ceiling were all luxuriously above her head word, while everything on the ground was chrome or clean, absolutely no trace of human life in the home at all. She heard footsteps on the stairs as Michael came down with his backpack in his paw. He had wiped his face and brushed his dentition, or so it appeared. He stopped at the arse of the stairs as Zoë smiled at him. For Michael something about the way Zoë looked, walking off of the black roofing tile into the den with both workforce clasped around her cup that set him off like a tuning branching. He returned the grinning sleepily and joined her on the way to the sofa. The two sat down on the first gear sofa, the light brown leather crinkling under their combined weight.
"All right so what did you need help with ?"

At eight thirty the two were near done with their field. Deciding a break was in edict they journeyed to the kitchen and refilled their drink. Michael pulled a litre of lemonade from the fridge and filled his, watching as Zoë filled her cup with ice and urine. As she waited for the piss to fill up Michael looked over her, admiring what he saw. Zoë stood about five foot five, with long nighttime browned hair and a very jolly face. She was wearing a gray T-shirt and a brace maroon and egg white Nike short pants that complemented her well. Her eyes were each dissimilar, a sandbag compounding of greens hazel and ice wild blue yonder. Her breasts were mean size, Michael guessed, about a 36 C or larger. He found his eyes wandering low-toned to her ass, and a very o.k. ass it was. Michael shook his head as he bean comparing her to Rose, shutting down that part of his mind and putting the lemonade back in the fridge. She turned and smiled at him, walking across and sitting on the bar while setting her infantry on one of the stools. He had already told her that his parents were gone to see his aunt, so she had relaxed. Zoë had also realized how he cared for the theatre. On one of her brief trips to the bathroom she had seen his room, a neat slight room that looked so utterly normal it had caused her to smile. Michael tried one-half heartedly to smile back but the effort quickly failed. He sat down on a bar stood next to her.

"Michael…"At the phone of Zoë's vocalism he snapped up. She was looking down at him with ha genuine worry, almost pity in her optic."Are you okay ? You've been either really tired or really sad this entirely time. I feel form of bad for asking you to do this when you really don't seem like you want to…"She looked away from his falsely thoughtful regard, the sheepishness returning as she spoke.

"Zoë I really am enjoying this whole affair. I don't like math but you're making it a lot of fun."Michael jumped up on the bar and sat next to her, trying not to await directly into her middle."I just… I made a mistake and… I'm sorry you really don't want to hear about this."He took a sip of his drink, the morose sweet taste sensation of the beverage waking him up slowly.

"No please… just recount me ! It's okay… I wont say anything I promise. If it helps… tell me."Michael looked lazily at Zoë against his own will. He wanted her. He wanted to see something in those eyes besides pity.

"I made the misapprehension of… hooking up… with a freshman. A young woman who is always a total gripe. I thought I saw something different in her I guess. Then today… her friend went to slap me and I stopped her. I got a little mad… I got mad enough to cuss her four Friend out and call the one who slapped me a c… a slut… and now she doesn't want anything to do with me. It's over because I lost myself for a consequence. After an total year of being hit and poked and prodded and she just left off because I got mad… Now I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I know I didn't love her or anything like that. I just thought maybe she felt something for me. Not love. I didn't want her love."Michael trailed off as he realized how stupid he sounded, taking another sip of lemonade.

Zoë put her hand on his thigh, not really meant to be anything more than than a comforting gesture.
"Michael… don't worry about her. She was probably just using you ! You deserve someone better than that… Michael look at me."Zoë gently grabbed his chin and pulled his eyes around."I have only known you today, and you are so much full than that. Just blank out her."He looked at her for a minute before smiling, the first genuine smile he had given her that Night. She smiled back, a perfect grin that instantly warmed his fondness.

"birdsong me microphone. ”