The House Always Wins - 32. Chapter 32

CHAPTER 32

I still didn't remember a single thing the next morning, as far as what happened downstairs in the bar. I remembered going there, even remembered Michael coming in, but that was about it. Nothing came to me that explained Michael's behavior that night, or from then on.

My brain still felt too heavy when I came into the kitchen, where Michael was already present, and I only had eyes for the coffeemaker, mumbling some sort of reply to his greeting.

"How's your head?" he asked, hiding a smile.
I just sent him a glare but there was that warm look again and yep, it was still confusing.

He set his empty cup down and came over to where I stood, as I skimmed the morning paper. He pushed it aside, and lifted my face with a finger underneath my chin, and planted a kiss full on my lips.

"Good morning."

"Morning," I replied, resuming my coffee.

"Ah, an actual word; he's getting there," he said. "Did you sleep well?"
I nodded, finishing the coffee and reached for the pot, for a refill. He caught my hand and took the mug from the other.

"Try water."

"No, I need coffee," I replied, trying to get the mug, "and if you wanna live out this day, you'll give me that mug or..."

"Water," he said, shaking his head, "or you'll be hyper by noon. I'm not spending my day with you high on caffeine."

"Fine. Water then and keep it coming."
He took that small victory with a smirk and went over to the sink, rinsing the mug and filling it, then handed it over and I couldn't help but toy with the idea of throwing it.

"Try it and you'll regret it," he grinned, guessing my intent. "Please try..."
I frowned and opted against it.

"Pity."
Was he flirting with me?

"So...what are we doing today?" He asked, the moment gone.
We?

"Errr... I dunno."
I pulled back a chair and sat down.

"Well, what did you do when my mother was here?"

"Shop, talk, watch TV... but talk, mostly."

"Great, so we'll talk."
He sat down opposite from me, an expectant look on his face. What...now?

"Do we have to start doing that right now, or do I get a few hours to fully join the world?" I asked, annoyed. What was with him today?

"Right now. I'd prefer to get to know the real you. If I give you a few hours, you'll just conjure up crap."
Hmmm, so he wasn't stupid.

"Alright... I'll start; hi, I‘m Michael Bartholomew Black."
He offered me his hand, reaching over the table, and taking mine, shaking it.

"Now you."

"I don't underst..."

"Humor me."
Ooookay...

"Jason Jake Carter..." I said, slowly, eying him suspiciously.
What was going on here?

"Nice to finally meet you, Jason. Where were you born?"

"Uranus...? None of your fu..."

"Don't," he interrupted. "Just... don't, please? Answer the question."

"Lebanon, PA, January 4th, 1986," I sighed, shaking my head. "And still none of your business."
He ignored that last and let go of my hand.

"London, Holland Park, July 21st, 1971," he replied, stating his own origin. "Tell me about your parents."

"Mom alive, Dad dead as a doornail. Mom remarried, a total jerk, and we moved to LA. What's with the 20 questions?"

"What kind of work did your father do before he died; when did he die and how?"
I sat back, crossing my arms in front of me, refusing to answer.

"Answer, Jason."

"You have no right asking me these questions," I said, leaning forward for emphasis.

"Actually, I do. You gave me that right last night."

"I did?"
I couldn't remember. How do you give someone that right, anyway?

"Fine. My dad was a construction worker. He died seven years ago; heart attack."

"And your mother?"

"She didn't," I said, being a smart ass.
Michael rolled his eyes but granted me that one, nodding.

"Why is everything such a battle with you?" he asked, softly.

"Why do you want to know everything about my private life?" I retorted, getting up. "I'm going to take a shower. We're done."