Hurricane

Mikey loved me in my lace underwear, smirking at me, bearing his teeth slightly while I lay on his bed. He crawled on top of me, his hands weren't shy, and easily played with the hem and snapped the lace back. He kissed me, heatedly, but stopped when I grew bold and grabbed at his belt.

He had given me a stern glare when I did so. I felt as if I had done something wrong, and I held my breath. Mikey's features softened, he licked his lips, "I'm sorry, but I don't want to have sex with you."

Now, as any person, who gets this said to them, I felt more than embarrassed. I felt insecure and I didn't know how to respond. I wondered, a mile a minute, if it were because of my looks or because I was a virgin.

Mikey had picked up on this, "It's not because I don't want you, because..." he looked down at my breast, "I want you so damn bad, Rooney."

"Then what is it?" I asked softly.

Mikey sat back on his heels, "Sex complicates things, Roo. I really like you..." he trailed softly, "I don't fuck girls I like."

"Oh..." I murmured.

"There's nothing wrong with you, I want you," He took my hand and placed it on his bare chest, "My heart beats fast when I'm with you."

I smiled, "I do that to you?"

He nodded, "Yeah. I don't want to fuck our relationship up. One day, we'll...have sex, but we'll be in love."

My heart seemed to jump up in my throat and I blushed like crazy. It was the first time he'd mention us with the word love. And, he wanted to make love to me; that was an ego boost, but I didn't act on it being such. 

"You understand me, Rooney?" his voice had grown lower and softer.

"Yes."

He smiled, "We can kiss and touch, still." He let his hands pry my thighs open, "I hate torturing myself...but you're worth it."

Again, Mikey made me feel wanted in a world that made me feel like I was just another person in it. I was it for Mikey, and he was it for me; we had been made for each other...as we thought.

For the rest of those weekend hours, we kissed and lay with each other. It was pure heaven, and the only thing that mattered was Mikey and I were growing more and more fond of each other. We talked about any and everything; hopes and dreams, fears and regrets. 

"I want to write." I had told him, "I want to be an author."

Mikey was lying on his side, his hand landed on my hip, drumming his long fingers on the exposed skin, "I never really have any thought about what I'd want to do. You have your shit figured out, Roo." He didn't keep his eyes on mine, they were adverted to my chest, though he wasn't concentrated in my breast.

"What do you like to do?" I asked him softly.

He looked up at me, "Hang out with you."

I giggled, "Besides that."

"My comics...you know I love reading my comics. But, what kind of job would I get if all I do is read?" Mikey shook his head absentmindedly, "Besides, I'm not good at anything. I'm a fuck up."

This was the first I had heard about Mikey's feelings towards himself. He was letting a wall down, letting me see his true side. It was self loathing and had a lot of anger.

"You aren't a fuck up." I smiled at him, and he reluctantly returned it.

"Thanks Rooney." I knew there was some other words tied into that thanks, but nothing followed.

I wish I would have pushed him, but I didn't. Maybe I would have gotten him some help. I could have been the one to save them.


As the week past, and school started again, my dad was on me about my talking on the phone. Since Mikey and I had been forbidden from seeing each other, talking on the phone was the next best thing. You would think my dad wouldn't mind, but since it was Mikey, my dad minded a whole lot.

Mikey had been feeling down a lot then, and he just wanted to talk. I let him speak and I offered my friendly girlfriend advice and then he'd tell me something funny and we'd hang up. It was all it was, but my dad grew angry with me whenever the phone rang.

"I told you, you were forbidden to see that boy!" He had yelled when he caught me on the phone in the dining room.

"Dad, it's a phone call!" I had never yelled at my dad before.

He glared at me, "Hang up the phone, Ladonna!"

I swallowed thickly, hearing Mikey's heaving breathing on the receiver, "I have to go."

"Fuck him, Rooney." Was all Mikey said before I hung up the phone.

My dad was angrier than I had ever seen him and it made me uneasy. It made my nerves unravel and sink into my feet. How could I have disobeyed him? -I had thought. Because: Mikey had become the center of my universe.

"I do not want you speaking to this boy, do you understand me?" My dad had pointed his finger in my face, making sure I got the hint.

"Yes." I mumbled.

"If I hear his voice, see his face or that death trap of a vehicle of his, it's over Ladonna, and I mean it!" My dad stepped closer to me, "I won't hesitate to send you to that boarding school in Camden!"

Camden, it was in the UK. I had been twice, but never recalled it's location. I remembered visiting a relative who sent her daughter, my second cousin, I think, to a boarding school there. My cousin had said she wanted to kill herself due to the rules and regulations. Surely, my dad wouldn't send me there just because of a couple of phone calls.

He never did.

I got away with more than he could have handled, and it scared me at times. I often wondered if my dad, of given the chance at the time, would have sent me away. I believe so...at times, I wish he had.


With phone calls gone, Mikey and I spent all our time together at school. It was the only time we were able to be alone, even though we weren't. He would hold my hand, kiss my cheek and walk to me to class. He was a real boyfriend. I loved that.

He was a real boyfriend during the week, but, during the weekends, he was a completely different Mikey.

Shortly after his 17th birthday, Mikey had become more...wild. He didn't really talk to me on the weekends, and what hurt the most was that he was partying with other girls. He kissed other girls, made out with them, and had sex with them.

A blow to my ego had been taken. I should've dumped his ass, but I never sought to. I was in love with him; head over heels.

"He's such a pig." Kendra had commented when we had coffee together on a Saturday afternoon, "He was all over Frida last night, it was sickening! I wanted to slap him."

Having my friends point this out never helped either. 

"You don't need a guy like him, Ladonna," Leah had patted my back a few hours later, "He doesn't know what he's missing!"

"What do you see in him? I mean, I support whatever you do, but, c'mon. Michael Way is a man-whore to the full extent of the word." Stefani had added.

Of course, I listened, but never took it to heart. Mikey had needs that he didn't want me to fulfill. At times, I had wondered if it were because I wasn't pretty enough, or mature enough, or didn't wear the right clothes.

The girls he went after were girls with tight skirts and cleavage bursting at the seams of their tops. Girls with lots of make up, and wore heels.

I hadn't ever looked like that before.

I tried, but failed.

Mikey had caught me dressing that way in the middle of October. I was hoping my birthday would be the big day, but I wasn't sure. And, I wasn't sure why I had wanted Mikey to sleep with me so badly.

I think it was the insecurity, and the reassurance I would get if we had. If we had, had sex, and he liked it, he wouldn't roam and find other girls.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" He had climbed through my window, shivering from the October night.

I was in a tight fitting, red dress and I was trying to stand up in black pumps without falling. My hair had been down just right and my make up had been piled on. I thought I looked fake, I didn't look like my true self; just like the girls he liked.

"I'm wearing a dress." I told him dumbly.

"No fucking shit," he growled, "take it off."

I turned around, giving him a confused look, "Why?"

"I don't want you wearing shit like that!" He snapped at me, "You look like a whore."

He had hurt my feelings, truly. All I had tried to do was make him want me, and I failed. Once again, I felt embarrassed for my teenage hormonal attitude and thinking.

So, I turned away from him, taking the stupid dress off, kicking the shoes away from my feet, planting myself at my natural height, and began to pull my hair into a clip. I tried my best not to cry, I could hear Mikey cursing to himself, and he stepped over to me, behind me in the vanity.

"I'm sorry, Roo," he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, "I love the way you dress, just not like that." He grimaced at the dress on the floor.

"I did it for you." I mumbled.

"For me? Why?"

I turned around, "I thought...maybe if I dressed like those girls you like, then you'd like me a little bit more."

He sighed, "Roo, I like you for who you are. Those girls are just...chicks I can let my lame frustration on."

"Sometimes, I don't feel like I'm enough for you." I confessed, and it made him smile.

"Believe me, you're more than enough."

I never brought up the cheating again. I never dressed up like that again...until later on. I was so blind and in love that I really didn't give a damn what he did. I was just happy Mikey was mine.