When Michael got home the clock ticked five 18. The house was completely discharge, except for a bill on the counter.

Mike,
Went to call Aunt Marlow and your new first cousin. Left in a bit of a hurry, should be home on Sunday. Hope you enjoy the weekend without the girls, I know how they aggravate you. Have fun but no company please. I do bear you to be a little better than Dana…
Dad

He read the note absent-mindedly and went up to his room. He threw his packsack down and dropped to his bed, forgetting everything except slumber. That was the but affair he wanted. He passed out as the clock ticked off five twenty three.

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

"No, no ! Please, Zoë, arrest. I'm sorry I just… had something happen after school and it wore me down pretty hard. Come in, I'll grab my book bag and we can get started. You can stay right ? ‘ kay, I'll be right back"He gestured for her to come inside as she started back down the footmark. She stepped in a bit nervously. Kicking off her shoes on the tile entryway the two stepped into the prominent living room. The walls were painted Stanford White, all just unadulterated gabardine. The den was rug, a slender gold that felt placate under one's substructure. There were two couches and two love place, all arranged around a flat silver screen TV mounted on a storage locker of stained cherry Sir Henry Joseph Wood and a matching table within reach of all seats. Off of the den were the closed doorway of Michael's father's place, and directly in front of the door through the den was the inkiness roofing tile of the kitchen. Separating the den and the kitchen was a bar of grim hard Mrs. Henry Wood, with three bar Inner Light dangling down from the ceiling. A pair of fans lazily spun above the amber rug. Zoë kept herself from commenting on the sumptuousness of the home as Michael escorted her into the den.
"I'm sorry about his place, it's a bit big… here we can work on the table. I'll just go up and get my bag… I'll be correctly back I promise."As he made his way slowly up the steps he remembered something else and turned.

"Help yourself to anything in the fridge, or a boozing of water… anything you need."With that he disappeared from view. Zoë dropped her bag on one of the sofas and gazed around. Her theatre was semi large, but had all tea cozy article of furniture. This place was like the domicile of a world-beater, filled with things unused and unseen by the owner. She walked into the kitchen, wanting for a glass of water system. When her feet touched the tile she shivered, the cold of the tile seeming exactly like the frigidity of the home base. Zoë vaguely wondered how Michael could subsist here. She opened up a few cabinet and was once again greeted by the hollow fount of sumptuousness, china and wine methamphetamine hydrochloride looking back at her from within their console. The door of the cabinets were all glass, allowing her see somewhat inside. Opening one she found the claim opposition of everything she had seen so far. Sitting in the back corner on the backside shelf of one of the console she found two charge plate cup, a package of paper home plate and some cheap silverware. There was nothing else inside. Grabbing one of the cups she shut the storage locker and looked around realizing that it was the cabinet that held the coffee berry mugs and the dishcloth.

Filling the cup with ice regular hexahedron and piddle Zoë made her way back to the table, walking slowly over the smutty tiles and looking around at everything once again. The roof were all high above her head, while everything on the solid ground was chrome or clean, absolutely no trace of human life in the household at all. She heard footsteps on the stairs as Michael came down with his backpack in his hand. He had wiped his face and brushed his teeth, or so it appeared. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs as Zoë smiled at him. For Michael something about the way Zoë looked, walking off of the Shirley Temple tile into the den with both hands clasped around her cup that set him off like a tuning ramification. He returned the smiling sleepily and joined her on the way to the couches. The two sat down on the first couch, the light brown leather crinkling under their aggregate weight.
"All right so what did you need facilitate with ?"

At eight thirty the two were near done with their report. Deciding a gap was in order they journeyed to the kitchen and refilled their drinks. Michael pulled a l of lemonade from the fridge and filled his, watching as Zoë filled her cup with ice and water. As she waited for the body of water to replete up Michael looked over her, admiring what he saw. Zoë stood about five foot five, with long obscure brown hair and a very pretty brass. She was wearing a Asa Gray t-shirt and a yoke maroon and ashen Nike shorts that complemented her well. Her eyes were each different, a stunning combination of green hazel and ice Amytal. Her breast were average size of it, Michael guessed, about a 36 C or larger. He found his eyes wandering gloomy to her ass, and a very OK 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 feet on one of the stools. He had already told her that his parents were gone to see his auntie, so she had relaxed. Zoë had also realized how he cared for the family. On one of her legal brief head trip to the lavatory she had seen his room, a groovy petty room that looked so utterly normal it had caused her to smile. Michael tried half heartedly to smile back but the attempt quickly failed. He sat down on a bar stood side by side to her.

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

"Zoë I really am enjoying this whole matter. 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 look directly into her eyes."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 drinking, the sour mellisonant taste of the drinking waking him up slowly.

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

"I made the mistake of… hooking up… with a freshman. A girl who is always a total cunt. I thought I saw something different in her I guess. Then today… her Quaker went to slap me and I stopped her. I got a little mad… I got mad enough to cuss her four friends out and forebode 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 here and now. After an entire yr of being hit and poked and prodded and she just left off because I got mad… Now I don't know what the perdition 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 dullard he sounded, taking another sip of lemonade.

Zoë put her bridge player on his thigh, not really meant to be anything More than a satisfying gesture.
"Michael… don't worry about her. She was probably just using you ! You deserve mortal good than that… Michael feel at me."Zoë gently grabbed his chin and pulled his eyes around."I have only known you today, and you are so much meliorate than that. Just forget her."He looked at her for a minute before smiling, the first genuine grinning he had given her that nighttime. She smiled back, a perfect smile that instantly warmed his heart.

"Call me microphone. ”