Boston Terror

My name is Cherrie.
I live with my boyfriend and my sister.
My boyfriend qualified for the Boston Marathon, 2013.
Life is amazing.
What could go wrong?

Chapter 1

Micah

by: Clato
I smile as Micah releases his grip on me. I push myself up from our bed and tiptoe out into the dark hallway. I hear Hannah, my sister, still asleep in her bedroom. Good, good. Silently, I creep back into the bedroom. After shutting the door, I climb back into the sheets.

"Well?" Micah whispers, his voice thick with sleep.

"She's still asleep, relax," I respond. He smiles and kisses me, and once again I get a warm feeling down my spine. I kiss him and kiss him until he has to push me off of him to breathe.

"You okay?" I ask, out of breath myself. He nods and pulls me close, his touch gentle. I'm still in awe that we're married already. Was it last month? Yes, I think so.

"Okay," I say, letting him continue to hold me. His grip is strong yet gentle. "Well, should we sleep?"

"Yes," he says, brushing my blonde hair behind my ear. I can see his face in the moonlight. It is longing. I know he wants something, but he doesn't read like a book.

But I do.

"What?" he asks, putting on a sort of mask. Now there is no way to decode his feelings and thoughts.

"Nothing," I breathe, my voice having a bit of an edge. This happens all the time. Why won't he let me just find out more about him?

I hear something in the hall. Footsteps.

Hannah.

She can be so immature. I sit upright, but don't make any noise. Though she's only two years younger than me, eighteen, she still acts like a child. Micah sits up, too, and I see a figure in the hall.

Slowly, carefully, I slink across the room and open the door. "Aha!" I say as Hannah falls into the bedroom face-first. She groans and sits up, rubbing her jaw.

"Hey," she whines. "You didn't have to do that."

Okay, so maybe I'm not the most mature person in the world, either.

"Go to bed, Hannah," Micah says with a sigh. Hannah glares at him. I know she wants to move out. She doesn't like our so-called "Love Fest" that we have. But she's stuck with us unless she gets a job.

"What were you doing?" she asks. "I woke up and heard you guys breathing all heavy."

I roll my eyes and flick on the light, staring her right in the hazel eyes. I see my reflection in them, and remember that we are sisters. We share the same eyes. We are always going to be sisters. I might as well learn to live with it.

"Go to bed," I say firmly, and she trudges back to bed. Once she is gone, I lock the door and stare at Micah. I know she's eavesdropping, but I'm too fed up to open the door again.

"Well," I begin, Micah's blue eyes staring into mine. "I think we need to find a way to keep Hannah out of this. We can't possibly do anything with her in this apartment." Micah thinks, then nods.

"But she needs us," he says quietly. I sit on the edge of the bed.

"No," I say. "She needs herself. She needs a job. A house. A boyfriend for crying out loud! She needs something, for sure, but that thing is not us." With that, I stand, turn off the light, and lay down on the bed.

Micah sighs.

I grunt.

This is no way to start a marriage.

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