Little Darling

Taking a deep breath, I forced my eyes from the floor and tried to fake composure as I smiled at Michael’s agent who I had met previously.

“Would anyone like tea?” I spluttered out, conscious of a certain pair of icy blue eyes focused on my face.

Glancing around the room, I noticed all of Michael’s entourage refused except the photographer who graciously accepted a mug before returning to his camera to get ready. Turning to face the man himself, I noticed a tired smirk on his face as he held his hand out.

“I would love a cuppa!” He smiled at me as I blushed and nervously handed him the mug of boiling hot tea. Just as I was about to turn and walk away, I heard a masculine cough.

“Got any sugar, darlin’?”

Michael had a sour face on, like he had just tasted something bitter and that’s when I realised I wasn’t doing my job right.

“Oh I’m so sorry Michael! Two seconds!” I scrambled back to the kitchen, reappearing with more packets of sugar than I knew he would need. In my panic, I didn’t care.

I was making a fool of myself, I knew it. I came here for one reason: to assist him and I couldn’t even do that properly.

After basically chucking the sugar into his lap, I sank into the seat next to him that was facing the long mirror and tried to smooth my hair in an effort to calm myself down. That was, until I heard chuckling next to me.

Turning to face him, I noticed the amusement twinkling in his eyes as he poured two sugars in his tea.

“Don’t laugh, please. It’ll only make me feel more pathetic” I admitted, letting a giggle slip past my lips.

Hearing my laugh he turned to face me more, ignoring the frustrated glance directed at him from his hairdresser.

“Do you want to know something? I never picked you for a giggler.” He smiled, making eye contact with me.

Blushing, I stared into his eyes. What the hell?, I thought. Who can resist those eyes?.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I questioned, confused. As I looked at Michael, I couldn’t help but to be in awe of his beauty. I think the reason I was so attracted to him was because he was just so… masculine. All the other guys I had dated were tall, skinny guys with long hair. I’m not saying that I wasn’t attracted to them at the time because I was. I really was! But now that I had seen Michael, that all changed. I realised that my type from now on would always be tall, muscly, blue eyes, irish accent… Suddenly my brain seemed to click into place. Why was I so worried about Michael and his motives? Why not go with the flow and see what happens? The thing I hated most about myself was that I never just let go. I was always worrying about something and not just trusting my instincts. And in this instant, my instincts… even my dreams were telling me to get close to him. At this thought I awoke from my reverie and realised that I had missed all that Michael had said, making my pink cheeks turn to a tomato red.

“You weren’t listening to me, were you?” he chuckled, turning to face the mirror as his make-up artist got to work applying a little foundation to cover his tiredness.

“Sorry, it is early you know!” I replied indignantly.

“Feisty!” He winked at me through the mirror, causing my heart rate to speed up. Surely that wasn’t a healthy reaction…

“Oh sssh” I laughed, loosening up. Standing from my seat, I went to the rail of clothes to see if the assistant needed any help. As we got into a conversation over what Michael should wear, I felt a presence right behind. Turning, I noticed Michael hovering over my shoulder.

“Oh I was just thinking that for the shoot, I should wear this” He said, reaching over for a shirt that was hanging on the rail right next to my arm. As he reached, his chest touched my back which sent shivers around my whole body and raised the hairs on my arms.

His breath hit the back of my neck as he laughed, obviously noticing my shiver. Glancing up at him, I confidently looked into his eyes and smirked.

If he was going to play dirty, so was I.

Taking the shirt from his hands, I placed it against his chest and placed the sleeves at his arms making sure to run my fingers from his bicep down to his wrist. Pretending to scrutinise the shirt, I avoided eye contact with him as I knew he was staring at me. “Hmmm, I don’t think this is your type”, I said and started to move the shirt to place it back on the rail before his hand clasped around mine.

“I think it is exactly my type” He said seriously, looking intensely into my eyes.

The intimacy of the situation drew the breath from my lungs in what could only be described as a mix between a sigh and a moan. His eyes were on my lips as our faces moved closer together. It was almost as if there was a gravitational pull between us.

A clearing of a throat tore us both apart as Michael let go of my hand and we took a step away from each other. Taking deep breaths, I stared at the floor before looking up at the confused expression on the assistants face.

“Well, if you feel so strongly about the shirt Michael then you can wear it” She said, staring at the both of us before taking the shirt out of my hands and going to piece together the rest of the outfit.

An awkward silence seemed to evolve between us as I stared in the direction that the assistant just left. I couldn’t see his face but honestly, I was terrified to look. I didn’t know if I would see horror at what almost happened, and if I did, I think I would have thrown up right then and there.

“You never phoned me” he muttered, breaking the silence.

Turning to face him, I noticed the sincerity in his expression. There was no amusement, flirtiness, or anything. Just pure emotion.

“I…uh… didn’t have any questions” I said lamely, shuffling a piece of paper with my feet that I had spied on the floor. A piece of paper almost identical to the one he had handed me which was now situated in the drawer in my living room, crumpled.

“I knew you didn’t have any more questions” He said. My eyes whipped up to his face in that moment. He was still looking at me with such sincerity, I felt my knees go weak. Cheeky Michael was sexy, beautiful, stunning… but this emotion… this was something else on a completely other level.

“I…uh…” I stuttered, staring straight into his eyes.

For a minute, there was nothing. I felt like I wasn’t breathing; My brain was frozen on absolutely nothing. I didn’t have a reply.

Seeing the disappointment crawl into Michael’s eyes was a wake-up call.

“Michael! I’ve got your clothes here and we’re ready to start the shoot!” The photographer shouted.

As Michael turned to go get ready, I panicked and grabbed his arm noticing how muscular it was under my feeble grip. If he wanted he could have easily kept on walking but he didn’t which gave me hope.

“Want to… go for some coffee after this?” I questioned, looking from his eyes to the floor and that same piece of paper from before. There was silence, and then the photographer shouted for Michael again, and yet there was still silence afterwards as he stayed rooted to the spot.

Finally I got the courage to look up at his face. He was smiling down at me. Butterflies exploded in my stomach as he licked his lips.

“I would love to” he replied, giving me a quick kiss to the cheek before running to get changed for the photo-shoot to begin.

Feeling my heart thud, a smile sprung to my lips as I mentally applauded my courage.

Despite knowing that Michael would be the death of me – what with all the heart palpitations and the like; I knew that he also stood a chance of being possibly the only person to bring me out of my shell. And I couldn’t wait.