Oh, man! Oh God! I'm still buzzing over the kiss I've shared with Michael! I have butterflies in my stomach; I feel over excited; my head is all over the place. My lips are tingling; I have a lump in my throat; I want collapse with happiness.

Is this what love really does to you? Is this seriously what love does to a person? Because if so, I love it. This is the best day ever.

It's 7:30pm. I'm currently sitting on my bed; Michael is on the bed behind me, hugging me from behind. He's got one hand over mine, and both of our hands are holding the paintbrush and painting the planets purple.

Purple is our lucky colour now.

"Becky ... " Michael calls softly, leaning his head carefully upon my shoulder.

"Michael ... " I reply, mocking his tone of voice.

He chuckles at this. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asks me.

"Yeah ... " I say, my curiosity growing.

"This is a real important secret," he adds to his previous comment.

"Yes, Michael?" I ask, becoming slightly impatient.

"My secret is, I love you," he says.

Really Michael? That's the secret?

"Can I tell you a secret?" I question, trying to hold off my smile.

He nods. "Of course you can, babe," he assures me, pausing what he's doing with the paintbrush to focus on me.

With this comment, I can't help but shiver. He called me "babe" – something I've never been called before in my life.

Oh, how I love it.

"My secret is, I love you too," I answer, mocking the tone Michael used to tell me his "secret".

He smiles in acknowledgement of my answer, before lowering the paintbrush. "I'm bored with this project," he sighs.

"Well, what do you suggest we do, huh?" I challenge.

He places the tennis balls we've been painting down on the floor, lying on a scrap of newspaper so they don't stain the carpet. "I know what we can do," he says.

"What?" I ask.

He lets go of his embrace on me and sits opposite me. He looks at me intently, examining my face, it seems; taking in my features.

"God. Your eyes are so beautiful," he tells me, his voice a deeper register than normal.

A shiver runs down my spine when I hear it. No matter how many times I hear it, that voice is beyond perfect.

"Yours are more beautiful," I argue playfully, knowing in my head how cheesy this conversation is becoming. Despite the cheesiness, though, I can't help but lose myself in his eyes. They're magical; little pools of beauty, if I may say.

He then leans slowly towards me, without saying a word, and kisses me unprovoked. Man, no matter how many times he kisses me, his lips are still magical. That's the only word to describe it: magical. There is no other word to describe it.

The kiss suddenly grows more intense, and Michael pushes me down on the bed so I lie down. He then climbs on top of me, his passion obviously taking over his body.

My mind keeps repeating the fact: he's on top of me. Oh, man. Oh, my. Oh, God. He's on top of me ... and it feels so strange.

It's like he can tell I feel this way, as he rolls to the side to lay next to me.

"I love you," he dares to tells me, his voice husky.

Most of the time, you'd imagine a husky voice being much like someone trying to clear their throat whilst speaking. But with Michael, it just sounds mysterious and warm. It's gorgeous.

He then realised that still, our faces are still painted. "I wanna make the colour purple again," he tells me.

"Michael ... Rachel and Elliott will be back soon," I reming him sadly.

He frowns, indicating that he totally forgot that two other people live with us. "Ah, man ... Um, listen: I'll call Elliott and tell him that me and you are working on the project. Say that he can't come back the rest of the night."

Just then, the door handle twitches. I jump off the bed and onto a different one, just in case. Rachel comes in, not even a few seconds after I've made the move.

"Becky, hi!" she greets cheerfully.

I smile awkwardly. "Rachel!" I respond, feeling my heart beat a little quicker at the thought of her catching Michael and I.

Unfortunately, she notices mine and Michael's faces are painted. "Uh, was there a face-painting party I wasn't made aware of?" she quizzes, visibly amused.

Desperately needing a decent response, I shake my head. "No ... " I say, trying to think of an explanation. "Um ... Me and Michael, we were ... we were testing the colours!"

What the hell was that? What kind of explanation is that? A terrible one; that's what.

"Oh, okay," she replies. "I just came to tell you I won't be coming back tonight. I'm working on the science project."

"Okay, that's cool. Call me if you change your mind," I instruct her politely. In reality, I need a head start in case Michael and I are focusing on one another, rather than the project.

She smiles and nods before leaving the room, just as Michael comes off the phone from Elliott. "Elliott isn't returning tonight," he tells me.

Relieved, I get back onto the same bed as Michael. "Neither is Rachel," I add to his comment.

He smiles in satisfaction. "Meaning we're alone," he calculates.

"It does, doesn't it?"

He smiles and pushes me back down onto the bed. He's wearing his buckles again. Ah, man.

"Say, these buckles are really annoying me. Especially on the jacket. But the thing is, I can't get them off ... " he starts, in his sexy low voice.

I'm already one step ahead, fiddling with each individual buckle, one at a time. I unzip the zip slowly to reveal a white shirt underneath.

He's so muscly, but yet so thin ... and did I mention, sexy? I'm fairly sure I didn't mention the sexiness already. God knows. But it's real.

After I've removed the entire jacket, I catch Michael smiling at me. "Thank you baby. Say, is it hot in here, or is it just you?" he asks.

My face contorts in amusement, from the level of corniness in his remark. "I think it's just you," I retort with a chuckle.

"Hmm. I'm getting real warm, but I can't get my shirt off. Isn't that a shame?" he pouts.

His hinting is so subtle, honestly.

But seeing as I'm here with him, I unbutton his shirt slowly. Once I've done this, I notice his bare chest is showing.

Damn – just when you think he can't get any better! And he's got the smallest little six pack. That's so cute.

I lean my head on his chest, and he buries his head into the crook of my neck, under my hair, before inhaling deeply against my skin.

"You smell so good," he mutters into my ear, before proceeding to kiss my neck sweetly. It tickles, in all honesty ... but it feels good. He continues for a few moments, but then, he pauses. "I'm gonna stop now," he says. "But, it's only because my lips are homesick," he says.

What?

"They wanna go where they belong. Your lips," he says.

And once again, Michael Jackson wins the award for the cheesiest male of the year. But it's kind of cute, at the same time.

He leans in and kisses my lips, the way he did before. Man, I swear this is what perfection feels like.

"I just want to lay next to you for a while ...
You look so beautiful tonight ...
Your eyes are so lovely ...
Your mouth is so sweet ...
A lot of people misunderstand me ...
That's because they don't know me at all ...
I just want to touch you ...
And hold you ...
I need you ...
God, I need you ...
I love you so much ... "

His voice never fails to make my heart pound, and my head whirl. It's so incredibly attractive to me – just in case I hadn't made that obvious, yet.

"You know we're gonna have to work on the project at some point?" I point out.

In initial response, he smiles, but then he actually replies verbally. "Yeah, I know. But now, I have my own little project to work on. You wanna make the colour purple again?"

"Is that even a question?" I ask rhetorically.

He kisses my lips once more, which just brings me to the conclusion that I absolutely adore making the colour purple.

It's a lot more fun that working on a school project.

~~

-Edited January 29, 2017-