Better Than You

You think I’m beneath you.

You think that I’ll with you because you’re above me, that I’ll stay with you because I can only do worse. You stay with me because you think you can take advantage of that fact.

But you know what, I can do better. I deserve someone who doesn’t turn me away after I’ve walked across campus in the rain to see them.

I need someone whose best friend isn’t that one who notices that I’m wet and shivering instead of you.

And you even deserve someone who wouldn’t rather let your best friend take care of them instead of you.

Someone who didn’t-

Maybe I should start at the beginning.

I stared at Max in disbelief. He had to be kidding me. I didn’t just walk across campus in the pouring rain to go out on a date with my boyfriend to be told that he wanted to study instead.

Yes, I realise Max is studious. Yes, I realise he thinks he’s better than me just because he has money and two parents, and that he thinks that all I should be is Maria Deluca, doting girlfriend of Max Evans. But come on, I’m human, I’m not below him just because I have less money than him, just because I’m not as smart as him. I don’t need to put up with this crap.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Sorry Maria,” he replies, closing the door in my face.

I glare at it for a few seconds before turning my back on it and heading back out into the torrential downpour. And to think I had been looking forward to getting out of the ran, because we would have been going out in Max’s car.

You’d think a caring boyfriend would drive you home so you wouldn’t have to trek across school in the wet. Well actually, you’d expect to be rung and told that he was cancelling, him knowing that you don’t have a car and would have to walk across campus in the rain.

God, and I don’t even have an umbrella.

I pause for a moment in the entrance way of a building, trying to figure out the best way to get home. Not that it matters, I’m already soaked to the skin.

“Maria!”

Over the sound of the rain I hear a familiar voice calling my name. Looking at the building opposite I see Max’s best friend calling to me from his apartment window. I wave a hand in acknowledgement.

“Come in here,” he yells through the rain.

I look at him, considering the offer. It sure beats running home in this. I race across the grass and into the building.

A few moments later I’m knocking on the door to his apartment.

Michael opens the door, taking in my bedraggled appearance. “God, you’re completely soaked. What are you doing out in this?”

“I was supposed to have a date with Max,” I mumble through clenched teeth.

His eyes flash for a moment and I briefly wonder why.

“Come in,” he says, walking into the apartment. I follow, shutting the door behind me. I look around, surprised. I’ve never been past the front door of his apartment before.

“Shower’s through there,” he says, pointing to the bedroom.

“I fine,” I reply, ignoring the fact that I’m shaking.

“Yeah right.” He snorts. “It you want to catch pneumonia.” He looked at me for a moment. “He stood you up?”

“He’s studying,” I reply, following Michael through his bedroom to the bathroom. He chucks a towel at me as I enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

Locking the door I quickly undress, shedding myself of my completely saturated clothes. Which isn’t an easy task seeing as the rain has plastered them to my body. Glancing at myself in the mirror I grimace at my reflection. God, no wonder Michael invited me in. I look terrible, he must have felt sorry for me.

Turning on the shower I wait a few moments, letting the water heat up before stepping into the warm spray. My shivering stops as the water warms me.

I tilt my face up towards the water, thinking about what Michael had said. He was right, Max had stood me up. He had let me walk across the whole entire campus in the pouring rain when he knew I didn’t have any way of making it across without getting completely soaked, only to tell me he had to study. Study! It was a Friday night for gods sake!

I’m sick of this. I’m sick of being in a relationship with a guy who thinks he can treat me like @#%$ and get away with it. So what if I’m not as well off as he is, so what if I only have a mother when he has two parents, so what if I’m only taking Music and Theatre when he’s taking Law. That doesn’t mean I’m any less of a person than he is. I don’t know why I’ve put up with him for this long.

I need someone who will actually care that I’m completely soaked just because I came to see him. I need someone who actually wants to be with me, not just because I’m some blonde chick who looks good that he can mold to be anything he wants. I need someone that I actually want to be with, a relationship that now, after eight months, I’m not just clinging to because I’ve been it for that long. I need someone that I long to kiss, to touch, to spend time with.

I’m standing here, naked in the shower of my boyfriend’s best friend’s apartment, warm water streaming over me, because it was Michael who actually cared that I was walking in the pelting rain. He cared, even though I didn’t show up at his door, completely soaked, expecting to go out on a date. He cared, even just seeing me out of his window across the grass.

I turned the water off, stepping out of the shower and grabbing the towel. It smells faintly of him, the whole place does actually, although why I know what he smells like I’m not sure.

I grab my underwear, the only thing that isn’t still wet, and pull it on, wrapping the towel snugly around my body. I don’t particularly want to be walking around his apartment wearing nothing but a towel, but I guess it will have to do, I think, cursing the fact that my clothes and bra are wet. Hopefully he’ll have some clothes I can wear.

Flicking the lock I open the door, stepping out into his bedroom. Through the open door I can hear him moving around out of sight. My toe gets caught in a piece of material, pulling it down from whatever it was resting on.

Clutching the towel at my front I turn to pull it back up. My breath catches in my throat when I see what was hidden under the sheet. Was it really...?

I crouch down to get a closer look. I can feel the towel slipping down my back, but pay no notice. And anyway, its still up at the front and that’s all that matters. My eyes roam the image I see in front of me. I think it is... Involuntarily I let out a gasp.

I hear footsteps behind me, and a movement beside me tells me that Michael has crouched down next to me. He takes the sheet out of my hand. “It’s you,” he tells me. I can feel his breath on the side of my face.

I stare at the painting in wonder. It’s amazing. I can’t believe he can paint so well. And me, why did he paint me?

I turn to look at him, his face is only inches from mine. “Why me?” I ask, my voice shaky.

He eyes search mine for a moment as his mouth opens and closes a few times. I can feel his breath on my lips now.

He stands up, clearing his throat. I look up at him and he shrugs his shoulders. “Because you’re beautiful.”

“Oh.” I look up at him for a few moments. He turned to go. “Wait,” I call to him. “Do you, um,” I look down at my towel clad body. “Do you have any clothes I could wear.”

His eyes roam my body for a moment. “Sure,” he replies, turning towards the dresser. I take advantage of the fact that his back is turned to me to stand up, adjusting the towel so it is fully covering my torso as I do so.

“Thanks. It’s just that my clothes are still wet,” I explain lamely. Of course he already knows that.

He turns to me, some clothes in his hand. “Yeah,” he replies. His gaze is intent as he nears me.

“Thanks,” I say, taking the clothes from him, ignoring the fact that my heart sped up at his gaze.

“No problem,” he replies, turning to leave the room, shutting the door behind him, to give me privacy to change.

I turn back to the paintings leaning against the wall. I’m curious at to what the others are of, already knowing that the first is of me. Once again I wonder why.

I carefully lean the front painting forward as my towel pools around at my waist. My mouth widens in shock as I see the second painting. It’s of me also.

I flick through the paintings sitting there, there must be about ten or something, and my mouth drops even more as I catch a glimpse of each one. They are all of me.

I stand up, turning towards the clothes that I dropped on the bed. I know I should get dressed before he gets suspicious.

I pull on the baggy trackpants and sweatshirt, rolling the cuffs up so that I won’t trip. The clothes are too big for me, but I don’t mind. They feel comfortable. The fact that I’m wearing Michael’s clothes doesn’t bother me. In fact it seems right.

My mind is still whirling from the paintings as I walk towards the door, opening it. I can’t believe it, why does he have so many paintings of me? Why are there no other paintings lying around? Why does he paint me?

He glances at me as I walk through the living room into the kitchen where he is. He hands me a mug. “Hot chocolate,” he explains. I nod. “I thought you might want it to warm you up. I don’t really have much to eat but-”

“I’m not hungry,” I reply, truthfully. The events of tonight have left me without any appetite for food right now. Not so much the whole ‘being stood up’ part, but everything it caused, the realisations.. “Thanks.”

“Your welcome,” he replies, averting his eyes from mine. Taking my drink I sit down at the table. He follows me, sitting down opposite me.

I take a few sips of the hot chocolate, feeling his eyes on me.

“So what happened?” he asks.

I shrug a shoulder, smiling weakly. “Pretty much what I told you. We had a date, I showed up, completely soaked I might add, and he takes one look at me, tells me he’s busy studying, then shuts the door in my face.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

The intense gaze is back, I look down at my drink. “I don’t know why I’m with him,” I admit softly.

I raise my eyes to look at his warily. He’s staring at me, his eyes a mix of emotions, none of which I can read. Its strange, I barely know Michael, despite hanging out with him sometimes with Max, yet I feel more comfortable here, safer, than I do with Max.

He shakes his head, standing up, moving over to sit on the couch. I stare at him a moment, wondering why, before following him. I sit down on the couch next to him, taking a drink of the hot chocolate before placing it down on the low table in front of the couch.

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye before turning my body to face him, folding one leg over the other. He turns his head to look at me as I gather up my courage.

“So, do you paint a lot?” I ask. Its been one of the questions that have been plaguing me ever since I saw the paintings. The paintings of me. Only me.

“A bit,” he replies, his eyes avoiding mine.

“So, its a hobby kind of thing?”

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Okay.” I pause. “Do you have others?”

He’s facing me now, his attention focused on me. “Others?”

“Other paintings.”

“Of you?”

“Well, any other paintings.”

He looks relieved. “Yeah.”

“Of me?” I ask the question quietly, holding my breath as I wait for an answer.

“You looked at the other paintings sitting there didn’t you?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I answer, unashamed. Its obvious he already thought I had. I bite my lip for a moment before asking the question again. “Are there any others of me?”

He blinks before averting his gaze from mine. I know I have my answer. There are more of me but he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Why me?” I ask, my voice soft.

“I already told you,” he replies, his voice also soft.

I lean closer to him, conflicting emotions swirling through me. I don’t think the only reason he paints me is because he thinks I’m beautiful. I think there’s another reason. In fact I’m hoping there’s another reason, and that what I’m thinking is right. “Did you?”

He stares at me, his gaze unwavering as he refuses to answer the question. His breathing has shallowed as my face nears his, waiting for an answer. And I have a feeling my breathing has too. My heart is racing and I know this is wrong, but I also know that it’s right.

His eyes remained locked on mine as I inch even closer. I can feel his warm breath on my face now.

I close my eyes as I move closer, my heart jolting as my lips touch his. I kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he kisses me back.

I feel his mouth opening against mine, his tongue against my lips, demanding entrance to my mouth. I feel as though I am on fire as I open my mouth to him.

His tongue enters my mouth as mine follows suit, exploring his. His hands have pressed themselves at my back, his fingers moving slightly. I remove one hand from his neck and move it upwards, into his hair.

Wow. That’s the only word to describe it. Better than Max, better than anyone ever before. Never has a kiss felt like this before. So right. So much passion.

I moan into his mouth as his hands pull me closer to him. I can’t help it. I want to be closer to him.

He pulls away. I blink in shock as he pushes me back to my side of the couch. He runs his hands through his hair. “No,” he says.

No? Did he not feel that? Did I read him wrong? Does he not want this as much as I do? “What?” I ask softly, my voice shaking slightly.

“No. This is wrong. You don’t want this, you don’t want me. You want someone else.”

I stare back at him, shaking my head. His gaze is still intense, if not also regretful. Now I understand, he thinks that I don’t want this, don’t want him. That I still want Max. “I want you,” I tell him honestly. And I do. I think I always have, I just never realised it.

I reach for him, but he pulls away. “No,” he tells me. “You want Max.” His voice is steady but his face is pained.

“No I don’t,” I reply, staring him in the eye, my eyes pleading with his. “I don’t want Max. I don’t know why I’m with him. All I know is that I’ve never had a kiss like that before.”

He shakes his head and I feel like I’m about to cry. Why am I with Max? Why am I with Max when I could be with this wonderful guy who paints me and actually notices that I’m wet and shivering across the grass in the semi-darkness, when my own boyfriend doesn’t even notice.

“You were right,” I tell him. “Max doesn’t deserve me. And Max doesn’t have me, he’s never had me. All I am to him is someone to call if he feels like having a girlfriend. I’m nothing to him, and when I think about it now, I don’t feel anything for him, nothing real. Its over between us.”

“Not yet,” he tells me. “You’re still with him.”

“Technically maybe,” I tell him, moving closer. I breath out a sigh of relief when he doesn’t back away. “But it was over between us a long time ago. Come on, he ditched me to study.” I move even closer, standing up for a moment before sitting back down in Michael’s lap. He looks at me surprised.

“I don’t feel anything for him,” I tell him, staring into his eyes. The intense look is back. “Unlike you. But if you don’t feel it then...”

His lips crush against mine, his arms wrapping around my waist. I sigh as I wrap my arms around his neck, having gotten my answer. So he does feel something for me. And I have to admit I do feel something for him. Something real. Something beyond anything Max and I could ever have.

I shift my legs slightly so I am straddling him, pressing myself tight against his body. He moans and pulls me even closer.

Once again my body feels like its on fire with the intense feeling of Michael’s lips against mine, his fingers against my skin. I moan as his fingers make their way under the sweatshirt of his I am wearing, stroking my bare back.

I disentangle my arms from around his neck, my fingers trailing across his shirt as they make their way to his front. I pull back slightly so my hands can slip between us, playing with the buttons on his shirt. I want to feel his skin against mine so badly.

His lips leave mine and begin to kiss a trail down my neck. He stops there, gently sucking on the sensitive flesh of my neck. My fingers quickly undo the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. He shrugs it completely off his arms and my hands return to him, running over his shoulders and abs.

His hands are making their way up my front under the sweatshirt as his lips return to mine. His tongue once again explores my mouth as his hands explore my body. His hands reach my breasts, his fingers running lightly over them. I moan with pleasure. How does he know what I like? Max doesn’t know what I like.

The phone rings and we pull apart slightly. Michael’s face is only inches from mine as we stare at each other as the phone rings. A few more rings and I reluctantly get up from my position on his lap. He looks at me for a moment before walking over to the phone sitting on the bench and picks it up.

“What?”

I can’t hear the person on the other end, but his eyes darken at whatever the person says. Meanwhile all I can do is stare at him. He looks so gorgeous, standing there shirtless, his hair all mussed from my hands. I wish he would just drop the damn phone so I can attack him. God, I am so turned on. And I know he is too, I can see the bulge in his pants.

“I’m busy.” The sound of Michael’s voice surprises me. “Have your study break with someone else. What about Maria? Weren’t you supposed to have a date with her tonight?”

His eyes meet mine and I know it’s Max. I can’t tell what Michael’s feeling though.

“What? You’d rather study than be with your girlfriend?” He asks the painful question. I wonder what Max’s answer is, and know it can’t be good when I see the look Michael gives me. Not that I care. I’m beyond caring what Max thinks. Besides, I’ve felt more here tonight with Michael than I’ve felt with Max in eight months.

“Yeah, bye.” Michael hangs up the phone.

“Max?” I ask, knowing the answer.

He nods. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Look, if you-”

I spring up from my position on the couch, attacking his lips with mine. “Don’t be sorry,” I reply when we pull apart for air.

He looks down at me. “You don’t care that he cancelled a date with you to study and then rang me, not you, for a study break?”

I shrug, planting kisses on his chest. I feel his hands on my shoulders, pushing me back slightly.

“Maria?”

I look up at him, slightly annoyed. I want to kiss him again. “I want you,” I tell him, a finger tracing patterns on his chest. “I don’t want him.”

I press myself back against him, my lips reattaching themselves to his chest. After a few moments I feel his hands on me, pulling me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as our lips meet again.

I want to feel my skin against his. I pull back slightly, dropping my legs to the floor. Michael looks at me confused for a moment. I just grin, withdrawing my arms from around his neck and pulling the sweatshirt off.

I can feel Michael’s heated gaze on my bare chest. I jump up, once again wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. I press my chest into his, enjoying the feeling of his bare skin against mine.

“Maybe we should sit down,” I murmur, my lips trailing across his shoulders. I want to run my hands all over his body, but I can’t do that while I’m holding on to his neck.

I feel him nod, and he begins to move in the direction of the couch. “Stop,” I say quietly.

He looks at me. “I thought..”

“You’re walking in the wrong direction,” I tell him, tilting my head in the direction of the bedroom.

He gazes down at me. “Are you sure?”

I nod. “Yes,” I reply, kissing him fiercely.

He returns the kiss, beginning to move in the direction of the bedroom. He pulls his lips away from mine to navigate the way.

When we reach the bedroom he sits me down on the bed. I pull him down next to me, once again resuming my position in his lap.

Our lips fuse together, tongues dancing in each others mouths. His hands slip into my trackpants, his fingers playing with the waistband of my underwear. My hands trail their way down his front, tracing patterns as they do so, before reaching his pants. Pulling back slightly I quickly undo his pants.

“Are you sure you want to?” he asks, his eyes probing mine.

“More than anything,” I reply, pushing his pants down his legs. I glance at the paintings still stacked up next to the bed, and decide it’s time to ask another of those burning questions I’d had ever since seeing them. “How long have you wanted me?” I ask softly.

His hands are still moving under my trackpants as he stares at me. “Maria...”

“Michael...” I reply. I want an answer.

He sighed, withdrawing his hands and placing them on my shoulders. I loop my arms around his waist. “Well?” I asked.

“Not the whole time I’ve known you,” he answered. “I mean, I thought you were beautiful the first time I met you, but you were Max’s girlfriend so...” he trailed off.

“Yeah?” I said, wanting him to continue.

He ran a hand through his hair before placing it back on my shoulder. “Well, the more time I spent with you the more I got to know you. And I knew he didn’t deserve you, didn’t treat you how he should.” He glanced down for a moment, before returning his gaze to me. “How I would,” he said quietly. “And then, one day I painted you, and, well, then I realised.”

I stared at him, amazed. All that time and I’d never known. Not that we ever spent much time together when Max wasn’t around, but still, I would have thought I might have noticed something. Then again, I didn’t realise until tonight that I had feelings for Michael.

I leant forward, kissing him hard, pushing him back against the bed as I did so. I slid out of his trackpants, so now the only thing that was separating us was our underwear. Soon mine were gone, and then so were his boxers.

He rolled us over so that he was above me, using his hands to support himself. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his lips to mine.

He pulled his face back for a moment, staring intently into my eyes. I smiled at him, and then in one fluid movement he entered me, our lips rejoining as he did.

It was amazing. Better than Max, better than anyone I’d ever been with. Michael was hands down the best guy I’d been with. I don’t know why it was so good, maybe because he was so passionate, maybe because I wanted it so much, maybe because I was falling-

Afterwards we lay there, legs intertwined, my head resting on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, and feel his chest move up and down as he breathed.

I shifted slightly in his arms, turning my head to look up at him. “I can stay here, right?” I asked softly.

He nodded. “I want you to,” he replied.

I smiled, snuggling into his chest. “Michael, I-” I paused for a moment, gathering my courage. “I love you.”

I felt him moving, he planted a kiss on my forehead before staring into my eyes for a long moment. “I love you too, Maria,” he replied, catching my lips in a kiss.

You don’t love me like he does. I don’t love you like I love him.

I stare at your door, gathering up my courage. I raise my hand to knock, my knuckles hitting against the wood of your door.

It’s only been a day since I was last here, knocking on your door, soaked to the skin from the rain. But so much has happened since then.

You open the door, looking surprised to see me.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask, moving back to let me in.

“No, it’s okay, I just need to say something,” I reply.

You look at me, confused. I know you’ll be surprised, but honestly, you shouldn’t be. This day was always going to come. I don’t think I’m beneath you. I know I can find someone better than you. I have.

“Look, Max, um,” I pause for a moment. “It’s over.”

You just stare at me for a moment. “What?”

“It’s not working, and it hasn’t for a while,” I explain. “You can’t give me what I want.”

“Is this because of last night?”

I shake my head. “No, last night just made me realise,” I tell you. “It’s over, and it has been for a while.”

You look upset, but you must have known deep down that this was coming, that you couldn’t keep treating me like you did.

“Goodbye Max,” I say, turning my back on you.

We’re over, forever. And now I can be with Michael, who I know will never treat me the way you did. Who I know loves me more than you ever could.

Who I love more than I ever thought possible.

The End