Michael & Noelle

"I Love That For You"

"No, it isn't," I told him, and it was hilarious the way his face contorted into one of confusion.

"Well then," he shoves his hand in his pockets, rocking back on his heels, "I suppose that's fair."

Rolling my eyes, I place a hand on my hip, "I'm kidding."

Michael's face goes flat, his lips forming a thin line.

"Just text me with the time and place," I blow him a kiss, using his silence as an opportunity to climb into my vehicle, and drive home.

Aunt Clementine sat at her desk in the living room, pushing her glasses up from her nose.

We wave at each other since her headset was on, and she points at the kitchen. I shake my head indicating that I wasn't hungry.

Now in the comfort of my room, I turned on the A/C and dived under the comfort of my sheets. There wasn't much to do during the day, so when curiosity called, I gladly answered.

Michael Kane.

Google results popped up 0.71seconds later, and unsurprisingly, there wasn't very much about him. I mean there were lots of speculating articles, lots of pictures, but there was nothing personal.

This was expected, Michael seemed like a very private person, and not only that but he doesn't speak very much.

Michael Kane refuses to interview with FAME Magazine.

Billionaire Michael Kane, says NO to CNN interview

Michael Kane has NO WORDS on the growing success of his fragrance line.

The titles were all pretty much the same, and so I didn't look into them very much. The pictures of him were all taken by reporters and it usually seemed like he had no idea his pictures were being taken.

Knowing that there wouldn't be any social media accounts for him, I didn't even bother looking.

"Elle," Cleo calls from the door.

"Come in," I yell, sitting up in bed, and the door slowly creeks open, "are you on lunch?"

"Yeah, it's a bit late but we had a bunch of work to get done today," she places her hands on her hips, "did you eat out?"

"I did actually . . . with a friend."

"Oh," she lets out a little laugh that resembled one of a French chef, and looked at me side-eyed, "you're gonna sit with me at lunch, and we're going to talk about this friend."

"What if it was a girl?"

"Thank you for telling me that it's not," she winks, turning to leave, "I'm waiting!"

I couldn't help but laugh. I got up though, padding into the living room and lifting myself up onto the kitchen counter as she warmed up her food.

"So who's this lucky man?"

"Aunt Cleo, I said I had lunch with the man, not that I married him."

"Nevertheless, anyone who's in the presence of my niece is extremely lucky."

Aunt Cleo leaned against the counter as the microwave hummed and I hid my smile looking down at my swinging feet.

"His name is Michael . . . Michael Kane," I tell her.

"Michael Kane," she repeats, her eyes locked onto the ceiling. She folded an arm, a finger on her chin.

"He sounds very familiar."

"He owns the fragrance and candle store, Sincerely."

"Oh wow," she lets out a breath, nodding, "that's very impressive."

"Right?" I fangirl.

"What is he like? Do you like him?"

I hesitate on telling her that I had a date with him coming up, but I give in anyway because this was Aunt Cleo. The woman who's raised me since I was sixteen years old, and made me feel nothing but loved, accepted, and appreciated since then. We shared everything.

"He's . . . quiet," I state, biting the inside of my cheek, "but he's very respectful. There are no red flags, he tells me what it is, and then we go from there. He's a great listener, and . . . we laugh . . . a lot. We . . . also plan to go on a date."

"I love that for you," she gushes earnestly, placing a firm hand on my arm, "you better go ahead and seek that type of happiness."

"And when will you do the same?"

Clementine rolls her eyes, a small smile on her face. She turns towards her food, passing a fork through it.

"You know damn well there's a connection between the two of you, that man adores you."

"That man is also my boss," she emphasizes.

"Yet he sends you designer items, gives you extra benefits, and don't forget he paid off the house."

"Because I'm a great assistant."

"You're in denial," I tilt my head at her as she walks around me and grabs her unsweetened grapefruit juice from the fridge.

Aunt Cleo sighs, "Even if I did, Ella, he lives an entire flight away."

"I'm sure that the two of you can come up with some type of arrangement, you're making excuses."

"Alright, young lady," she shakes her head, "we're here to talk about your love life, not mine."

"I wouldn't call it a love life just yet."

I stepped down from the counter, as Aunt Cleo makes herself comfortable in the living room.

"I'm gonna sort some outfits for tonight."

"Okay sweetheart, I can't wait to see how you look."

Before I went back to my room, I just stood and stared at her. I didn't mean to be creepy, but I've been a burlesque dancer for three years now, I work almost 6 nights a week, every month, and each time Clementine wants to see how I look.

If she could, she would add any jewels she had hanging around in her room, or she would recommend another stocking or top, and then she would call me perfect.

My parents were great, but Aunt Cleo was wonderful.

She didn't ask for me as a responsibility, but she stepped up and she did a damn good job. I loved her so much, I just hoped she knew that she was amazing. I hoped she knew that I could take care of myself now, and it's time for her to go ahead and seek her happiness.

#

A few minutes before I left for work, my phone lit up with a call.

My heart raced in my chest as Michael's name displays across the screen. I take a deep breath, tapping accept and raising the phone to my ear.

"H-hey," I stammered, swallowing hard.

"Hey." Michael's voice was husky, and a bit harsh. He was seemingly breathless.

"Are you alright?" I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"Oh yeah," he chuckles, "just got done with a workout, I thought I'd give you a call about our date."

"Oh – uh – yeah, totally, what's up?"

"I know you work at night, so I was wondering if breakfast would be okay for you?"

"Yes, that's perfectly fine."

"I usually have my breakfast at six, but I'll make an exception for you tomorrow."

"Why, thank you, kind sir," I tease, idly walking in circles.

"Most welcome, I'll pick you up at nine."

"It's a date."

"It is."

We hang up and although our conversation was short, and to the point, I could stop smiling. I could almost see what he looked like shirtless, and sweating, lips parted as he breathed. The man was just so hot.

Not only that but just hearing his voice made me go all tingly inside. I wanted to melt.

To say that I was excited about tomorrow was an understatement, and it was a relief that our date would be in the morning, so I wouldn't have to wait too long.

Felling this way even before the first day had to be illegal, and if I wasn't careful, I would end up falling on my ass.