The Secret of Ella and Micha (The Secret 1)

Ethan shoves up the sleeves of his shirt, crosses his arms on the table, and directs Micha with their secret-code look I have never been able to crack. I revolve my body to look at Micha, but instantly regret it. His eyes are too intense and I'm thrown out of my element for a second.

"You stopped playing?" I ask him. "Why would you do that? Isn't it your dream still?"

He shrugs, snaking his arms around my waist. "It's not the same without you here watching me."

"There were times I didn't watch you play." I put my hands on his shoulders. "Even when I lived here."

He shakes his head and wisps of his blonde hair fall across his forehead. "That's not true. You never missed one."

I think back, knowing he's right. "I don't want you to stop living your life because I'm not here anymore."

"And I don't want you to be anywhere but here." He squeezes my hip and I instinctively jump at the tingling heat that spirals down between my legs.

"What can I get you?" The waitress interrupts us. We all read off what we want, and the waitress gets particularly giggly when she writes down Micha's order, even though I'm sitting on his lap.

Her name is Kenzie and I've never liked her. She used to help Stacy Harris torment this girl we went to school with, who was in a wheelchair. I casually lean back against Micha's chest, as if I'm doing it by accident. No one seems to notice except for the waitress. And Micha. His heart beat speeds up as if the nearness of my body is driving him mad.

She frowns and tucks the order book into her apron. "I'll be right back with your drinks."

I wait for Micha to call me out, but he stays quiet and keeps his hands on the tops of my bare thighs. I know it's wrong and that he's not mine. I made that clear the day I bailed, but I can't seem to help myself. Ever since we were kids, I always felt the need to keep him away from girls who aren't good enough for him.

Old habits die hard.

Micha

Ethan is looking at me like I'm an idiot. Probably because I'm smiling like an idiot, but I can't help myself. Ella got territorial with the waitress. She's never done that before, not even before she left.

"This band's interesting," Lila hollers over the banjo band playing up on stage. "Is this the kind of music you play?"

Ethan, Renee, and I burst out laughing. Even Ella covers her mouth, trying really hard not to laugh.

"No sweetie, this isn't what I play." I gulp my coffee. "Mines more..."

"Hot and sexy," Ella says and I stare at her. She ignores my gaze and adds, "Think more along the lines of Spill Canvas."

Lila brushes some crumbs off the table. "That band you're always listening to when you're studying?"

Ella nods, but shifts awkwardly. "That's the one."

It makes me feel better that she still listens to the same music. At least that hasn't changed. I keep one hand on her leg, afraid if I release her completely, she'll run off again. I steal another scone from the basket and pop it into my mouth. Lila starts chatting with Ethan and Renee gets on her cellphone.

I sweep Ella's hair to the side and put my lips to her ear. "So you think I'm hot and sexy, huh?"

She bites back a smile, pretending to be deeply immersed in the banjo song. "No, I said your music is hot and sexy."

"It's all the same." I dare a kiss against her shoulder, relishing the softness of her skin, wanting her so God damn bad I'm getting a hard on just thinking about it.

Ella notices it too and squirms around in my lap, making it worse. "Down boy," she jokes with a nervous laugh, then presses her lips together and starts to stand up.

I trap her down by the hips and conform her backside onto my lap. We fit together so perfectly it's mind blowing and all those feelings I felt for her before she left come rushing back to me. I need more of her. Now. Oblivious to everyone around us, my hands gradually slide up her thighs.

"Micha." She protests with a quiver in her voice. "Don't. There are people..."

I silence her as my fingers brush the edges of her skirt. I can't stop - I've been carrying this sexual tension for ages. I started having these feelings for her when we were about sixteen. I ignored them for as long as possible, because I knew she'd freak if she found out. There were a few stolen kisses that I played off, but the night on the bridge, when I finally put it out there, changed everything. She freaked out just like I thought.

Right after she left, I slept around, trying to get rid of the hunger inside of me, but after a while, I realized there was no point. Ella had taken something from me and there was no getting it back, unless I had her.

So I let my hands sneak up the edge of her skirt and her fingers knead into my thighs. I wonder how far I should take this, since we're sitting in a booth in a crowded room, and I almost pull back, but one of her legs falls to the side, and I view it as an open invitation.

"Alright, it's time for open mic." The waitress that undressed me with her eyes speaks into the microphone on the stage. "If you already haven't signed up, you can sign up with Phil over there." She points her finger at the owner, a middle-aged man sitting in the corner next to the speakers.

"I think that's your cue." Ella quickly gets up, thinking she's off the hook.

Before I head up to the signup sheet, I spread my fingers across her lower back and whisper in her ear, "Don't think this is over because it's not."

She shivers and I strut off to the table with a satisfied smile on my face.

"Well, son of a bitch," Phil says from behind the table. He's an ex-band member of an 80's cover band and still looks like he belongs in that decade with his mullet and neon clothes. "Look what the dog dragged in."

"Miss me that bad, huh?" I jot down my name on the signup sheet.

"Are you kidding me?" he asks. "All we've had to listen to for the last few months is banjo music and a couple of hippies playing on the bongos. I swear it's like Woodstock all over again."

I laugh, dropping the pen onto the table. "Well it's nice to know I've been missed, I guess."

Phil fiddles with the volume of the amps. "More than missed. Please tell me you're going to start playing here again. I'm in desperate need of some draw-in. This place is going downhill."

I smile politely, backing toward the table. "Nah, probably not. I don't think I'm going to be sticking around here much longer. I've got places to go, people to see."

On my way back to the table, I cross paths with Naomi. She is Phil's daughter, tall, with long black hair, and she's an awesome singer. I used to play with her back before she went on the road with a band. We were actually pretty close, but I haven't talked to her since she left.