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

microphone,
Went to visit auntie Marlow and your new cousin. Left in a bit of a hurry, should be home on William Ashley Sunday. Hope you enjoy the weekend without the fille, I know how they aggravate you. Have fun but no political party please. I do expect you to be a niggling better than Dana…
Dad

He read the eminence absent-mindedly and went up to his room. He threw his haversack down and dropped to his bed, forgetting everything except sleep. That was the merely thing he wanted. He passed out as the clock ticked off five twenty three.

The strait of the doorbell awoke a Michael gently cursing his ego and whoever was at the door. Once he opened the threshold he groaned and scratched his eyes, desperately trying to wake up. Zoë something stood smiling sheepishly on the whole tone, her knapsack over one articulatio humeri and her maths notebook clasped in one script. She smiled when he opened the door 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 story about… I'll go. I'm sorry for bothering you !"

"No, no ! Please, Zoë, halt. I'm sorry I just… had something happen after schoolhouse and it wore me down pretty intemperately. Come in, I'll grab my book bag and we can get started. You can stay right ? ‘ kay, I'll be good back"He gestured for her to come in inside as she started back down the steps. She stepped in a bit nervously. Kicking off her horseshoe on the tile entryway the two stepped into the large support room. The bulwark were painted Elwyn Brooks White, all just arrant blank. The den was carpet, a cut gold that felt gentle under one's ft. There were two couches and two love seats, all arranged around a monotone screenland TV mounted on a cabinet of stained cherry Mrs. Henry Wood and a matching mesa within scope of all seats. Off of the den were the unopen threshold of Michael's father's billet, and directly in straw man of the door through the den was the black tile of the kitchen. Separating the den and the kitchen was a bar of coloured hard Grant Wood, with three bar lights dangling down from the cap. A twosome of fans lazily spun above the atomic number 79 rug. Zoë kept herself from commenting on the luxury 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 flop back I promise."As he made his way slowly up the steps he remembered something else and turned.

"Help yourself to anything in the electric refrigerator, or a drinkable of water… anything you need."With that he disappeared from perspective. Zoë dropped her bag on one of the sofas and gazed around. Her planetary house was semi large, but had all snug article of furniture. This office was like the home of a king, filled with things unused and unseen by the owner. She walked into the kitchen, wanting for a glass of body of water. When her feet touched the roofing tile she shivered, the frigidness of the tile seeming exactly like the cold of the home. Zoë vaguely wondered how Michael could endure here. She opened up a few cabinets and was once again greeted by the hollow brass of luxury, china and wine ice looking back at her from within their console. The doors of the cabinets were all glass, allowing her see somewhat inside. Opening one she found the demand opponent of everything she had seen so far. Sitting in the binding corner on the bottom shelf of one of the cabinets she found two charge plate cups, a bundle of paper shell and some trashy 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 mugs and the dishrags.

Filling the cup with ice cubes and water Zoë made her way back to the table, walking slowly over the grim tiles and looking around at everything once again. The ceilings were all senior high above her head, while everything on the ground was chrome or white, absolutely no trace of human being lifetime in the home at all. She heard step on the stair 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 steps as Zoë smiled at him. For Michael something about the way Zoë looked, walking off of the black tile into the den with both hands clasped around her cup that set him off like a tuning forking. He returned the smiling sleepily and joined her on the way to the couches. The two sat down on the first sofa, the abstemious brown leather crinkling under their flux weighting.
"All right so what did you need help with ?"

At eight thirty the two were near done with their studies. Deciding a respite was in Holy Order they journeyed to the kitchen and refilled their drinks. Michael pulled a liter of lemonade from the electric refrigerator and filled his, watching as Zoë filled her cup with ice and water. As she waited for the water to fill up Michael looked over her, admiring what he saw. Zoë stood about five understructure five, with long nighttime brown hair and a very pretty human face. She was wearing a grey-headed jersey and a brace maroon and blanched Nike shorts that complemented her well. Her eye were each different, a stunning compounding of green hazel and ice blue. Her knocker were average sizing, Michael guessed, about a 36 C or gravid. He found his eyes wandering lowly to her ass, and a very fine ass it was. Michael shook his brain as he bean comparing her to Rose, shutting down that component part of his creative thinker and putting the lemonade back in the fridge. She turned and smiled at him, walking across and sitting on the bar while setting her invertebrate foot on one of the throne. 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 house. On one of her brief trip-up to the bathroom she had seen his room, a clean little elbow room that looked so utterly formula it had caused her to smile. Michael tried half heartedly to smile back but the try quickly failed. He sat down on a bar stood next to her.

"Michael…"At the sound of Zoë's interpreter he snapped up. She was looking down at him with ha genuine care, almost pity in her eyes."Are you okay ? You've been either really tired or really sad this whole meter. I feel kind 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 sheepishness returning as she spoke.

"Zoë I really am enjoying this completely thing. 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 fault and… I'm sorry you really don't want to hear about this."He took a sip of his drink, the acetify sweet taste of the drink waking him up slowly.

"No please… just tell 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 eyes besides pity.

"I made the misapprehension of… hooking up… with a freshman. A girl who is always a tote up bitch. I thought I saw something different in her I shot. 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 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 present moment. After an entire twelvemonth 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 hump. I didn't want her love."Michael trailed off as he realized how stupid he sounded, taking another sip of lemonade.

Zoë put her hired man on his thigh, not really meant to be anything Thomas More than a comforting gesture.
"Michael… don't trouble about her. She was probably just using you ! You deserve someone bettor 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 intimately than that. Just forget her."He looked at her for a instant before smiling, the first of all genuine smile he had given her that night. She smiled back, a perfective tense smile that instantly warmed his heart.

"Call me microphone. ”