I Can See Clearly Now

Hello, gentle readers. This story is something I'm using to fill in the gap between other ongoing projects that are stalled or nowhere near complete. It was a spur-of-the-moment writing thing and is supposed to be a cute little tale, so hopefully it delivers.

As always, thank you to my dear friends for your comments and suggestions; they all made this a lot better. Any remaining errors are the result of me tinkering with it after their input. I just can't leave well enough alone!

As always, I welcome all feedback whether good, bad, or indifferent. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy!

#

SIMONE

Simone glanced up from open books and scattered sheets as he approached the table and her heart broke all over again, just like it did every time she saw him.

Michael Ritter stood just under five-ten. He was slender, though not in an athletic way, but more in the manner of someone possessed of a narrow frame and fast metabolism. He moved with the easy-going grace of a practiced musician or artist, and not the future lawyer he was. Michael's dark brown hair flopped over his open, earnest face, which Simone always thought was a shame since those locks and his glasses conspired to hide from her the most brilliant blue eyes she had ever seen.

Those eyes were now locked on the object of Michael's affection, seated to Simone's left. His mouth formed in a shy smile. "Hi, Emma."

Emma smiled back at him. "Hi, Michael. Jake and Gary texted and said they'll be here in five."

"That's fine. I'll grab the first pitcher." Only when Emma gave him one last small smile and looked away did his gaze refocus on Simone. "Hey, Simone. How's it hanging?"

"Longer than yours."

"Don't get mad 'cause you're stuck in a chick body."

"Still more of a man than you."

"Yeah, yeah." He chuckled and turned toward the bar.

Simone watched him go, a small smile on her lips. Their long-standing banter had always contained an element of snark. Despite the reactions people sometimes had to their mutual insults--including sometimes pulling one of them aside to ask if concerned voices if she and Michael were fighting--neither Simone nor Michael ever took offense or held it against the other. The good-natured teasing was simply a facet of their friendship.

For three years, Simone had been drawn to Michael. Ever since Simone and Emma had first sat next to the slender dark-haired boy in their Introductory to Criminal Science class of their freshman year, she'd been interested. His open, friendly smile had captured her attention right away and before the class had ended, they'd started talking. Before long, he'd joined Emma and Simone's circle, along with a few others studying pre-law, until they were all a tight study unit, helping each other with projects and exam prep. But for Simone, what had started as mutual interest and friendship had developed to attraction until now, when, halfway through the first semester of their senior year, Simone knew she was madly in love with him. She'd dated other men off and on since she'd been in college but measured against the one who held her heart, she found them all wanting. He wasn't the best-looking man Simone had ever seen but he was generous, honest, kind, and ethical.

All the qualities one would hope for in a lawyer

, she thought,

even if many of them don't possess a single one. And it's all wasted.

Her eyes flicked to the other woman at the table.

Simone had known Emma Miller since they were in elementary school, and for years, they'd been friends, then best friends, and for the last three years at university, roommates. As much as Simone thought she was plain, she knew Emma was beautiful. Emma had the creamy white unblemished skin of a supermodel. Her body was toned and trim from a youth spent playing basketball and field hockey, when compared to Simone's shorter and stockier build. While Emma's sense of clothing was stylish, Simone usually opted for loose cargo pants and baggy tee shirts. They both had developed crap eyesight growing up; Emma had parents who sprung for Lasik-type corrective surgery, while Simone still wore plain black -plastic-rimmed glasses.

She touched the frizzy black hair she'd bound in a clip to keep it from her face while eyeing the soft golden locks surrounding Emma's head. Simone thought her own mother's long lustrous black hair--a hallmark of her Caribbean heritage--was quite beautiful, as was her mom's facial bone structure and dark skin tone. Her father's handsome Germanic features were strong and proud, and he was a big, wide-bodied man. Simone often looked in the mirror and felt that she'd got the worst of both sides: a blended unhealthy-looking off-white pigmentation, the brown frizzy hair, mud-colored eyes, and the stout build. Not ugly but not beautiful either. Just... plain.

Despite their physical differences, Simone and Emma had always gotten along well. Simone's quiet, calm personality meshed with Emma's more brash and flamboyant one. Emma had always included Simone in her circle and never excluded her, even when some of Emma's more "in-crowd" friends had huffed about it. When they were kids, Emma has always promised to keep Simone close, saying things like, "You're my best girl, no matter what happens." Simone knew that some hot girls like Emma would keep around a less-good-looking friend, to make sure there was less competition. Simone didn't think Emma was like that.

Well... not

too

much, anyway.

Emma had always had attention from the male species; Simone, not so much. Emma was usually at the center of a whirlwind of jocks, rich kids, and even older men courting her for attention. Simone had always just shaken her head at her friend's antics and been glad she'd been able to concentrate on her studies. Unlike Emma, whose family was very well-off, Simone's scholarships were her lifeline; her parents could not afford to pay her tuition, especially with two kids still at home. Other than intermittent feelings of jealousy, men fawning over Emma never bothered Simone much.

Until Michael.

She sighed and lowered her eyes to her notes. Regardless of everything else, they all needed to pass this test. As soon as Jake and Gary--the other two members of their study group who were joining them--arrived, they could get started in earnest. She decided to focus on and concentrate on her work.

That resolve lasted as long as it took Michael to turn from the bar with a pitcher of frothy beer in one hand and some glasses in the other. She watched him wheel away from the brass rail and bump into an older woman carrying a drink. The woman's beverage slopped over the side. He immediately placed the pitcher and glasses and began apologizing and summoning the bartender. A moment later, he'd paid to replace her drink. The woman, who was initially angry, now laughed along with him. Only once she was settled and on her way did Michael retrieve his order. The pleasant look never left his face.

Simone smiled at that. He was so considerate and kind. Always the first to look to help other people and the last to expect it himself. She watched him cross the floor and her grin faded. Eager anticipation filled his expression as his eyes settled on Emma again. Just seeing it made Simone's soul ache for him. She began chewing one of her fingernails in frustration.

Michael, I'm sorry. For your sake, I wish it were otherwise. But she's never going to want you.

#

MICHAEL

He approached the table, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Every time he saw Emma, Michael was overcome with something his mother would have certainly called, "puppy love."

It's more than that.

His gaze traced the soft curves of her face, delicate nose, and full pouty lips. He resisted the urge to let his gaze wander lower. Her shirt wasn't low cut but just seeing the swell of her breasts was often enough to make his dick wake up and take notice.

She hadn't looked at him since he had gone to the bar. Her eyes scanned the pages of the textbook as she scribbled in her notebook. Michael's gaze never left Emma as he walked back to the table but she didn't glance his way a single time. He was disappointed but used to it. He gently set the pitcher and two glasses in the center of the table. "I'll grab some more glasses for the guys."

Emma did look at him then and smiled again. "Would you mind grabbing me a Diet Coke too?"

He hesitated, then forced a smile himself. "Sure."

He swiveled in place and headed back to the bar, ignoring Simone's disapproving frown. His thoughts wandered as he weaved through the tables.

You poor sap. You've got it bad.

And he did. He'd wanted Emma since the first class they'd had together. From her natural beauty to her tinkling laugh that reminded him of tiny crystals rubbing together, everything about Emma pulled at Michael's attention. She was easy to talk to, smart enough that she did well in class, had ambition and goals. Brains and beauty, she was the whole package.

And thus far for him, unattainable.

As long as he'd known her, Emma had always dated big men on campus--and some men not on campus. All her boyfriends shared two common characteristics. Physically, they were big, muscular, alpha-male types, successful in school, sports, or business. But more importantly, they never lasted very long. Emma might date one for a few weeks or a month and then she'd be on to the next one.

Michael didn't understand. Those guys might be impressive but they never

did

anything for her. He'd heard, direct from Emma's bitter mouth, when they stood her up, missed dates, or ignored her. Michael had done everything he could to contrast himself with them. He studied with Emma outside the group and had given her his class notes and crib sheets. He sat on the phone with her for an hour the night she cried over a boyfriend who had been cheating on her. He drove her home one weekend, to the far corner of Lincoln, when her car broke down. It was a ninety-minute round-trip in traffic but so what? He was helping a friend.

He paid for the soft drink and headed back to the table. A small voice in the back of his head--which had been growing increasingly louder over the last month--berated him for spending money on something that Emma herself could pay for. The voice screamed that it wasn't the two dollars but the principle... the same principle that said Emma would never drive him on a ninety-minute round trip just because he asked her.

Michael sighed. The voice was right.

But the heart wants what it wants, right?

He reached the table and tried to keep his tone as pleasant as possible. "One Diet Coke."

Emma took it and she gave him a sultry glance. "Thank you."

Her honey-laden voice drove the nagging voice to the back of his head. He flushed in the glow of her attention. Looking for anything to divert his attention, Michael sat and focused on Simone. He reached out and pulled her hand away from her mouth. She let him. "Stop chewing your fingernails."

"Yes, 'Father.' "

He laughed. "How've you been, Simone?"

"Doing okay." She pushed her slumping glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I spent all day filling out intern applications at law firms in Omaha for next summer."

He cocked his head. "It's only October."

"Yeah, but if I wait until spring, all the best slots will be filled."

"That's just like you."

She gazed at him. "What is?"

He smiled. "Always planning ahead. You're really gonna do great out there."

She blushed and lowered her eyes.

Michael liked Simone. She and Emma were best friends from high school right there in Lincoln and since all of them wanted to be lawyers, they'd all been in most of the same classes right from their freshman year. He'd always found Simone grounded, intelligent, and calm... and an absolute sweetheart.

He thought back to a few months earlier, right at the start of their senior year. He'd texted and had some group chats with both Emma and Simone over the summer as they discussed their move-in plans to their apartment on the northwest side. He'd been so excited to have them over to his new apartment downtown, the move-in of which had fallen right before his twenty-first birthday. He had offered to cook dinner for them both before they all went out so he could have his first "legal" drinks. Both Emma and Simone had promised to come eat with him.

Only Simone had shown up.

Michael had been hurt and disappointed. Simone had offered excuses for her friend but Michael could tell it was half-hearted. Simone, however, also brought a homemade cake and a silly card, and refused to let him wallow. After dinner, they had ended up going to multiple bars for his free birthday drinks, staggering back to his place, and passing out in his bed. They'd woken that next morning, hungover, and a little embarrassed at sleeping in the same bed, even clothed, but both had been able to laugh it off.

Despite Emma not showing up, Michael had enjoyed himself. Simone was fantastic to hang out with and he considered her a great friend. He examined her from the corner of his eye.

He knew Simone's father was Caucasian and her mother from the Caribbean, and he somehow thought she had got the best features of both. She had the deepest brown eyes and beautiful wavy hair that Michael wished she would wear down more often, because it looked so nice when she did. Her flawless light brown skin absolutely glowed when she blushed. She wasn't heavy but had feminine curves that even her normally-loose clothes couldn't completely conceal. In short, Simone was a beautiful, wonderful girl. He wondered why some smart guy hadn't snapped her up yet.

Michael knew Simone dated from time to time, as he did. She had always told him the guys were never a good fit. He understood; none of his girlfriends had ever measured up to his image of Emma. Their mutual dating failure was just one more area in which they commiserated as friends. Still, he wanted Simone to be happy and hoped she would find that special someone.

His mouth creased into a thin line at the thought and he glanced at Emma.

If Simone started dating, at least two of us could be happy instead of just one: Simone with her guy and Emma with... all of hers.

The thought brought another sigh; a sense of resignation flickered and he shook his head to fight it off.

Simone glanced past his shoulder and waved.

Michael glanced over his shoulder and saw Gary and Jake coming. He put aside his ruminations on Simone and obsession with Emma and unzipped his backpack. Time to get down to business.

"Michael?" Emma stuck her hand out. "Can I see your notes from the fifteenth?"

He sighed, flipped open his notebook to the right day, and handed it to her.

#

SIMONE

She shifted to another position but sleep would not come. Simone blinked her bleary eyes and gazed at the clock.

2:18. Jesus and Mary.

She sighed.

Maybe I should have gone and gotten drunk with them.

The morning had been hyper-tense for all of them but the moment they slouched out of the afternoon midterm, Emma had suggested they celebrate by going to the strip of bars a block off campus and getting tanked up. Michael had immediately jumped on that, as had Gary and Jake, but Simone had begged off, feigning a stress headache.

In truth, she couldn't stand to watch Michael fawning over Emma again.

Why not, stupid? It's not like he's ever going to be interested in your frumpy ass.

She sighed and flopped again, staring into the darkness.

Despite trying hard not to think about Michael, her mind flashed to just before the test, when they'd been loitering outside the classroom, waiting for the preceding class to get out. Simone had once again been nervously nibbling on her fingernails. Like he often did, Michael had reached out and moved her hand from her mouth. When she'd glared at him, he had only smiled. "Simone, stop worrying. You're going to ace this."

She remembered her heart beating faster as she'd replied, "You think so?"

Michael's grin had almost split his face. His hand had squeezed hers; the contact and warmth of his skin had made her light-headed. Michael had said, "Absolutely. You're the smartest one of all of us. You're going to do great. Now let's get in there and kick ass."

I almost told him I loved him right then.

The words had been on the tip of her tongue but before she could, Emma had arrived, diverting Michael's attention, and the moment was lost. In a way, Simone was grateful for her friend's appearance; it stopped her from making a fool of herself.

Still, the simple memory of Michael holding her hand ignited a delicious warmth in the depths of her soul. Simone lay there for a moment, wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to feel the swirl of his tongue across her lips, his breath pouring into her lungs, the heat of his body pressing against hers, his hard cock lying against her belly--

Simone flinched and glanced at the clock.

2:23. God damn it.

Sighing, she peeled the blankets from her legs and swung her feet to the floor. There was a bottle of vodka in the fridge. Maybe a shot or two would help her sleep. She snickered at the thought; Michael would have told her to get a joint for that, and she'd be game, except that Emma was adamantly opposed to having pot in the apartment.

Speaking of Emma...

Simone didn't know if her roommate had made it back. She had not heard Emma come in but it was possible that if she was drunk she had crashed somewhere else, like Michael's couch--though Simone knew well enough that if that were the case, Michael would volunteer to give up his bed for Emma and take the couch himself. The thought was both distressing and irritating.

But if Emma had made it home, Simone wanted to be quiet enough that she didn't wake her roommate. She cracked open the door, tiptoed past Emma's door, and made to turn the corner of the living room into the kitchen.

A sharp groan caught her attention. Simone froze.

The lights in the living room were off, though the curtains to their balcony were open, allowing the pale glow from the streetlights in the apartment complex's parking lot to filter inside, rendering the room hazy and ethereal.

Two naked figures writhed on the couch. Simone had never seen the guy before but he was big and athletic, like every other guy Emma dated. He sat low on the couch, legs extended, knees bent, and feet flat on the floor. Emma was on top of him, facing into the wall, her hands resting on the couch back. She'd spread her knees to either side of his hips. Her sculptured ass moved up and down on his hard dick which--even in the dim light--Simone could see was slick with their combined juices. Emma dangled her tits in his face. The guy's hands clenched her slender waist and his mouth alternated mauling Emma's breasts. Their combined grunts filled the room.

Simone gasped.

I'm never sitting on that couch again.

Her exhalation must have been louder than she realized. The guy's eyes flicked to her and he smiled. "Company."

Emma glanced Simone's way. "Oh, hey. Sorry, are we keeping you up?"

Simone recognized the minor slur in her friend's voice right away. Emma was buzzed but not smashed. She was perfectly in control of her faculties. Simone ducked her eyes. "Sorry, I was coming out for a drink. I didn't know you were out here."

"No problem." Emma kept right on riding the guy.

The guy eyed Simone. Just the act of him doing so made her skin crawl. He smiled in what he probably thought was an enticing manner but she only found it unnerving. He said, "You, uh, want in on this? I've got plenty to go around."

Simone fled, slamming the bedroom door shut behind her. She wedged her desk chair under the knob. She had no idea who this guy was but between his tone, the lecherous way he looked at her, and who-knows-how-much alcohol he'd consumed, she had no idea if he might get it in his head to "sample the roommate too." As she huddled on her bed and pulled the covers to her chin, Simone's eyes fell on her phone on her nightstand. On impulse, she grabbed it and dialed. It rang.