Heartstrings on Fire novel Chapter 871

Michael sprawled out without a care in the world, "Little miss, aren't you a bit too nosy? It's my girl's bed. If I want to sit, I'll sit. If I want to lie down, I'll lie down. Eventually, we're gonna be sharing a bed for a lifetime. She hasn't complained, yet here you are lecturing me."

Michael had a way of saying "my girl" that made Alyssa's brows furrow in annoyance.

This guy had no shame. Nothing was set in stone yet, but there he was, "my girl" this, "my girl" that, as if he'd said it a million times, with a casualness that was actually kind of endearing, not at all sleazy or off-putting. It was weirdly tender and indulgent, stirring something in Alyssa's heart.

"Julia has no idea you're coming, does she?" Alyssa remarked.

"Not a clue. I'm planning a surprise."

"More like a scare," she retorted.

"Why's a sweet thing like you got such a sharp tongue?" Michael chuckled, spotting the birthday cake in her hands. "You got a cake there? Perfect, I didn't bring one, so we'll just share that."

Alyssa shot him a look of disdain. "You didn't bring anything? No gift, no cake? You really don't care much, do you?"

Michael grinned, a playful glint in his eyes, "You're too young to understand. I'm the gift. She'll be over the moon, trust me."

Alyssa's cheeks flamed at his insinuation. She might be young, but she wasn't a fool. Romance novels were all the rage in her dorm, and she'd secretly read a few. The whole 'I'm your gift' trope was cliché to her, yet she hadn't expected to encounter it in real life. In those stories, when a guy said something like that, it usually led to... something more. Was this rascal planning to pull a move on Julia?

"Bad guy!" she blurted, her face still burning.

Michael just shrugged it off, unfazed.

With Michael's unexpected arrival, all of Alyssa's plans had gone out the window. She gave up on hiding the cake and sat on her bed, seething with anger at Michael who now lay across from her, fast asleep.

She had noticed from the moment he walked in that Michael looked exhausted, with dark circles under his red eyes, as if he hadn't slept for days. Now, on Julia's bed, he was the picture of peace. In slumber, Michael was a different person, quiet and still.

Alyssa knew he worked construction, and she often associated him with rough, burly types. But asleep, he was transformed, not making a sound.

Alyssa's curiosity got the better of her, and she approached quietly. Michael's face was handsome, and beneath his neck, his skin was fair, though his features were weathered and tanned from the sun, with patches of peeling skin. His hands bore cracks and raised veins, speaking of hard labor, yet they were meticulously clean, with neatly trimmed nails, an oddly comforting sight.

Alyssa watched, her curiosity gently giving way to a quiet understanding as she observed the sleeping figure before her.