Maria knew Michael was working at the art museum that day, so she took a stroll around campus and just happened to end up at the art museum. She walked up to the entrance doors and suddenly wondered what the hell she was doing. She was going to go up to Michael and grill him about kissing her while he was working? It didn't seem like the best idea. So she settled for stalking.
She stood outside, hidden behind one of the cylinder posts out front, and watched him inside the museum as he worked. He wasn't doing much, just sitting there flipping through a book and occasionally taking out his cell phone, glancing at it, and then putting it away. She knew he was probably debating whether or not to call her.
At 2:00, Michael went into the back, collected all his things, and put on his coat as though he were about to leave. Maria scurried down the steps, knowing that he would walk outside and see her running away. So she ran to his car, parked out front, and threw herself into the backseat as he walked out the door. It was a stupid idea. He wasn't going to just overlook the fact that there was a body on the floor in the back of his car. But it was too late to do anything now. She lay there, wishing she were invisible, not making a sound.
He pulled open the front door to his car and sat down inside, apparently not noticing her. For a minute, she thought she just might pull it off. And then he dropped heavy backpack, loaded with books, down into the back, right atop her.
"Ow!" she yelped as the bag fell right on her head.
He whirled around and looked down at her. "Maria?"
She felt like such a psycho. What was she doing? She was hiding in the backseat of Michael's car? She was losing it.
She pushed the backpack up onto the seat and scrambled for the door. "I was never here," she said, tumbling out of the car and slamming the door. She got to her feet and took off down the sidewalk.
"Maria!" Michael called after her, getting out of the car. "Wait!"
I'll talk to him later, she decided, picking up her pace. Way later.
...
Tess walked in her apartment that evening and flipped on the living room light. She jumped in surprise when she saw someone sitting in her chair. But it was only Michael. "Jesus, Michael," she swore. "That's so . . . creepy."
"Sorry," he apologized, rising to his feet. "I need some advice, and Kyle's no good at giving it."
"Let me guess: Maria."
"Yeah. Did she stay here last night?"
Tess nodded once. "She did. She made love to the couch."
Michael wrinkled his forehead in confusion.
She shook her head. "Don't ask. So I heard all about the kiss. Way to go, Romantico. Didn't know you had it in you."
"Yeah, neither did I," he admitted. "So what'd she say about it?"
"Oh, I . . . can't tell you."
"What? Why not?"
"Because, she swore me to secrecy, and she's been my friend longer." Tess shrugged helplessly. As easy as it would have been to let Michael know that Maria was beginning to reciprocate his feelings, she couldn't betray her best friend's trust. Maria had asked her not to keep quiet.
"So you can't tell me anything?"
She shook her head. "Not without violating the best friend confidentiality agreement."
"You can't even point me in the right direction?"
She sighed, feeling bad for him. It was so easy, and he and Maria were bound to make it so hard on themselves unless she intervened a little bit. "Okay, if I were you . . ."
"I wish you were me."
"I'd explain myself ASAP, because she's totally freaking out right now. Emphasis on the freak."
"I know," he said. "I caught her hiding out in the backseat of my car."
"Stalking you?"
"Apparently."
Tess laughed, picturing the hilarity in her head. "Alright, Michael, go home. Think about what you're gonna say to her, because you're gonna have to say it. Tonight. I'll get her over there."
"How're you gonna do that?" he asked.
"Trust me, I have my ways." And she was going to put those ways to good use, because right now, Michael and Maria's love lives were the best distraction from her own life's drama.
...
Kyle was driving by the dorms after work when he noticed Liz's car out in the parking lot. The university was letting people move back in now, but she was one of the few students moving back in so soon. Kyle pulled into the parking lot in an empty space next to her car and got out. He leaned against the side of his car and waited for her to reappear. She came out of the dorm a minute later to continue unloading items from her car. She stopped when she saw him, but she didn't say anything.
"Do you ever feel like a nomad?" he asked.
"A what?"
"A nomad," he repeated. "You wander from place to place and live wherever you're at. Last year, when I was in the dorms, I always went home on weekends. I felt like a nomad."
"Nice attempt at small-talk, Kyle, but I know why you're here," she came right out and said. "You wanna talk about Christmas, me and Max."
He didn't want to talk about it, but he felt like he had to at some point. "It did kind of throw everyone for a loop."
She grunted and kicked at the pavement. "Well, maybe everyone needs to mind their own business."
"Whoa," he said, taken aback by her hostility. "I'm only saying this because I care about you."
She shook her head sharply. "No, you don't. You only care about Tess Harding and your little group of friends."
Now she was making him sound selfish, and that didn't sit well with him. "That's not true."
"Yes, it is. If you actually opened up your eyes now and then and looked around, finding out about me and Max wouldn't have been such a surprise."
"It would've been a surprise no matter what," he claimed, "because I didn't think you'd ever sink so low. God, what's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me is that I'm not this sweet, innocent girl you knew in high school, Kyle, and I'm sick of pretending to be. I'm a bitch. Deal with it."
He shook his head, utterly disappointed in her. He missed the girl he knew in high school, whether she'd been real or not. "You're still with Max, aren't you?" he guessed. "After everything he's done to us . . ."
"Kyle, just let me live my life."
"Do you see these bruises, Liz?" He pointed at the colors on his face, the fading greys and blacks and blues. "They didn't happen by accident. He made them happen."
"He wants to change," she insisted.
"Does he? Or does he just wanna get you flat on your back?" If he'd had money to bet, he would have bet it on the latter. "Liz, I know you, and I know you're driven and determined, and you don't give up on people, even when you should. You're gonna try so hard to find something good in Max, something worth saving, and eventually you're gonna see there's nothing there."
The sudden turmoil that gleamed in her brown eyes indicated that he had just touched one of her fears. But she didn't appear to be giving up.
"Good luck, Liz," he told her, climbing back into his car. "You're gonna need it." He shut the door, started up the engine, and drove out of the parking lot. He couldn't help her if she didn't want to be helped.
...
"This movie night was a good idea," Maria declared as she rode along in the passenger's seat of Tess's car. Tess was driving them to the video store to rent as many movies as they wanted to. "We can rent Dumb and Dumber and Dumb and Dumberer. Oh, and if we have enough cash on us, we should rent Texas Chainsaw Massacre, too, because there's something about seeing stupid people slashed into pieces that makes me feel all warm inside."
Tess smiled and pulled into the left turn lane of the approaching intersection. "That's nice."
Maria sat up straighter and looked around. She wasn't that skillful with directions, but she was fairly certain the movie store was to the right. "Where are we going?" she asked fearfully as Tess turned onto a very familiar street. Too familiar. "I thought we were going to the movie store."
"We are," Tess said. "We're just making a little pit-stop first."
"Where?" Maria tensed as she saw her apartment building in the distance. "Tess . . . no."
"Yes."
"No, Tess!"
"Maria, you have to deal with this sooner or later, and sooner is always better," her friend explained rationally.
"Says who?"
"Dr. Phil."
"He's a media-whore."
"But he's right. Avoidance is never the answer. Communication is key." Tess turned another corner and drove into the parking lot of the Fairview complex, stopping the car right in front of Maria's building. "Besides," she said, turning the car off, "you live here. You can't hide out at my place forever."
"Oh, I could," Maria assured her.
"But you don't want to."
"Oh, I do."
Tess rolled her eyes. "No, what you want is to clear the air with Michael and get this whole kiss business sorted out. So that's what you're gonna do. You're gonna walk in there, be completely honest about what you're feeling, find out what he's feeling, and hopefully re-enact that New Year's smooch with a little less ambiguity this time." She smiled hopefully. "Right?"
"I guess." Maria felt her stomach starting to churn with nervousness. Tess was telling her to do something that was way easier said than done.
"Alright, so . . . go for it."
Maria made a face. "That's it? Just go for it?"
"Well . . . I ran out of Dr. Phil things to say."
Maria sighed and stared at the entrance. Easy. Go inside, go up the elevator, go home . . . to Michael. To her friend. To the guy that kissed her with a kiss so good she couldn't even think about anything else. "Okay," she said, trying to psych herself up. "Okay." She nodded and pushed open the door, swinging one leg over the side of the car. But the minute the heel of her shoe hit the pavement, she pulled her leg back inside the vehicle and slammed the door. "I can't."
"You have to," Tess said.
"Only 'cause you're making me!"
"Come on, you're Maria DeLuca. You're confident. You're self-assured. You don't chicken out of anything . . . do you?"
Maria glared at her, pissed that she knew her so well. "I know what you're trying to do," she said. "You're trying to motivate me by making me seem less daring. And hey, it's working. Wait out here." She pushed open the door, got out, slammed it behind her and marched towards the building. Michael Guerin owed her an explanation for his unusual impulsivity last night, and she wasn't leaving until she got one.
When she entered the apartment, she found him standing in the kitchen washing dishes in the sink. As though there were a lot of dishes to wash since neither one of them could cook. He immediately turned his head over his shoulder to look at her, and he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Either he hadn't expected to see her again yet, or he was just as nervous as she was.
"Hey," she said, hating that she had to rely on such a lame greeting.
"Hey," he echoed, turning to face her.
She waited for him to say something more, but he didn't. Silence filled the room, and she detested it. "Oh, great, this is going well," she muttered sarcastically.
"Maria . . . I'm glad you're here," he said at last. "We need to talk."
"Understatement."
He sighed. "I know. I know you're probably wondering about last night . . ."
"About that kiss last night," she reminded him. "Because you kissed me, Michael. And it wasn't just a peck on the cheek kind of kiss; it was the kind you see in movies. And it came out of nowhere."
"I know," he said again. "But in all fairness, you did kiss me back."
"But you initiated it," she persisted, refusing to take responsibility for one of his actions. "Why?"
"I'm sorry," he apologized suddenly.
"For what?"
"The kiss."
She frowned. "Why?"
"Which question am I supposed to answer first?"
"Both of them."
He looked completely baffled but answered anyway. "Alright, I'm sorry for kissing you, because maybe you didn't want me to kiss you. And I didn't even think of that."
He was so off-base. Just because she hadn't ever thought about kissing Michael prior to last night didn't mean she didn't want it deep down inside. "Well, I just didn't expect it," she said.
"So you wanted me to?"
"I didn't say that."
"So you didn't want me to?"
"I didn't say that, either."
He sighed impatiently. "What's wrong with you?"
She grunted, maintaining her position by the door. She could bolt if she needed to, and judging by the way this conversation was going so far . . . she thought she might need to. "What's wrong is that my friend put his lips on mine and it's confusing," she explained in a nutshell. "Now I'm seeing you in this whole new light, and I don't want things between us to change, but what if they already changed? Is that a good thing? Or is it bad?"
"I'm not following."
"Welcome to my world." If he was confused, then he deserved it, because that kiss was still wreaking havoc with her mental stability. "You know, last night was gonna be so easy. I was gonna kiss Brad, and then we were gonna go somewhere and get it on, and my new year wasn't gonna start off any differently than the rest of my years. And I even gave you that Courtney girl. What was wrong with her?"
He shrugged and replied, "Nothing. She just wasn't right."
"And I was?"
"Maria . . ." He licked his lips nervously. "I just saw you standing there, and I just . . . couldn't not."
She looked him right in the eye, surprised by the admission. "You usually have more self-control."
"Well, I couldn't control myself last night." He took a few steps towards her, but as quickly as he did that, he stepped right back, almost as though he were afraid of invading her personal space again. "Maria, you're—you're an amazing girl, and you keep picking these losers, and I can't understand it for the life of me. I just . . . it was New Year's, and I wanted both of us to start the new year off right."
"Right?" She wanted something more concrete. She wanted to know what he meant by that.
"Just . . . I wanted to give you a really good kiss, one you'd remember."
"Oh, I'll remember it," she promised. Even amnesia couldn't make her forget kissing him.
"It was New Year's," he repeated, more quietly this time.
She gazed at him, at his defeated posture, the aversion in his eyes, and she tried to grasp what he was saying. It was just because of the holiday. Or was it? It had seemed like a hell of a lot more to her. "Oh," she said, "so . . . so that's the whole basis, the whole reasoning for the kiss."
"I don't think there was a whole lot of reason involved."
"New Year's Eve. Big holiday, big moment. Two friends kissing . . . nothing weird about that."
"In theory."
She looked down at the floor and dug the toe of her shoe into the carpet. "And I can stop freaking out and hiding in the backseat of your car," she mumbled, "and stop assuming things that aren't true. Because it's just crazy, right?"
"Crazy," he agreed unconvincingly.
"Because we're friends. And it was just a kiss."
He nodded, not looking at her. "Just a kiss."
"Yeah." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "All you did was kiss me."
"Mmm-hmm."
She could say the words, and she could listen to him say the words, too, but she didn't believe them for a second. There was no way she would be feeling the way she was if there weren't something there. And she wanted to find out what it was. "Well, aren't you gonna do it again?" She let the question resound in the air and looked him right in the eye when he looked up at her. She smiled, slightly embarrassed, and waited for him to respond.
After what seemed like an eternity, he visibly shook himself out of his stupor and said, "Uh, yeah. Sure. I mean . . . if you want me to."
She smiled, blushing, and looked down at the carpet again. She couldn't believe she had just asked him to kiss her again. But she really wanted him to.
"Um . . ." He slowly walked forward so that he was standing right in front of her, and his nervousness was explicitly obvious. It was written on his face, in his eyes, evident in the shakiness he was trying to conceal. He leaned forward, more awkward than she had ever seen him before. "So, I'll lean this way," he said, motioning with his head towards the left, "and you lean that way and-"
She smiled and rolled her eyes. "Oh, come here." She grabbed his head with one hand and pulled his lips down to meet hers. The spark ignited instantaneously, and all his uncertainty seemed to vanish. They kissed each other with the same intensity they had the night before, and Maria couldn't believe how right it felt. It hadn't been a New Year's fluke. She and Michael really did have a connection that existed beyond the realm of friendship; and for the first time since she had known him, she wanted to explore it. And judging by the way he kissed her, he wanted the exact same thing.
...
Liz lay on her bed watching an infomercial on TV. Because as many cable channels as the dorms provided, there was nothing good to watch. And she wasn't really watching, anyway. She held her phone in her hand, hoping and praying that Max would call. They hadn't spoken since . . .
Before she could finish the thought, there was a knock on her door. She groaned and got up, figuring it was probably her R.A. Students weren't technically supposed to be back on campus for a few more days. Only Resident Assistances and Resident Directors were allowed before then.
When she opened up the door, her heart nearly stopped. "Max." She hadn't been expecting to see him, and she certainly hadn't been expecting to see him there. Max hated dorm rooms. He thought he was above them.
"You didn't think I'd forget about you, did you?" he asked.
"Well . . . I don't know," she answered honestly. "I worried you would." He used to forget about Tess all the time.
"That was the old me," he proclaimed.
"Max, this whole old you/new you thing . . ." She flashed back on the conversations she'd had with her mother and with Kyle that day. Both of them had seemed wary. "I'm just not so sure it's that easy."
"It's not," he admitted. "But I know you're giving me a chance. I'm not gonna waste it."
She wanted to believe. She really wanted to. But . . . "Then where were you all day? I woke up and you weren't there. It's enough to make a person feel used."
"Lots of boring meetings with my dad," he explained. "I'm here now."
She sighed, knowing how huge that was for him. For him to make an effort to come see her, to explain where he was . . . and he didn't even seem to be expecting sex that night. Maybe he would settle for a little cuddling in bed. That would be a promising step.
She opened the door wider and stepped aside, allowing him in.
"Thanks," he said, smiling at her as he kicked off his shoes.
...
Maria and Michael lay on the couch together that evening, side by side, plastered together, arms and legs enveloping each other as their mouths mated. Every five seconds, Michael wondered if any of it was real, or if he was just dreaming the entire thing. But as soon as he would start to wonder, Maria's mouth would find his again, and he knew it was real. And it felt more incredible than anything he'd ever imagined.
"Are you tired?" he asked breathlessly.
She shook her head a little. "No. Are you?"
"No."
She smiled. "Good answer." She swung her body up into his again, absolutely attacking his lips with hers. She was an amazing kisser. He just wanted to keep up.
He pressed his hands hard against her back, loving the feel of her skin exposed by her hiked up shirt against his fingertips. Her legs were entwined with his, and her hands were all over him, his chest, his shoulders, his hair. Everything was perfect.
"Mmm," he moaned, savoring the taste of her lips. "You know, maybe we should stop and . . . talk," he suggested between kisses. "You know?"
"No."
"Okay." He crushed his mouth to hers again. It all felt so natural. The only other thing that felt his natural to him was painting.
She moved her body against his in a rolling, rhythmic motion, pressing her chest against his, her hips. If she moved only a few inches lower, she was going to feel a landmark erected in response to her ministrations.
"No, we really should talk," he kept on, pulling his lips away. As much as he loved the kissing, he knew they couldn't just kiss from now on. As great as that sounded. "'Cause this changes everything. Maria."
She smiled. "Good." She tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth, laughing a little. "Good," she repeated, still smiling. She kissed him again, and her tongue darted out to trace his bottom lip. He brushed his tongue against the tip of hers and groaned when he felt the tip of his erection brush against the inside of her thigh.
"Maria . . ."
She pulled back and looked him right in the eye. "Best—and most confusing—New Year's ever. Good talk." And then their lips reunited yet again.
Incredible. It was one of the few words that kept running through his mind. He had never felt so alive. And it was incredible.
Her hands burrowed in his hair, massaging his scalp. She brought one of her legs upward to wrap around his waist and pull him closer. Instinctively, he shifted around a bit so that he was lying on top of her, and he took the change in position as a chance to absolutely ravage her. He kissed his way down her cheek to her neck and sucked at the skin there, eliciting a breathy moan from her as she rolled her head to the side to give him better access. When he was sure he'd left a mark, he kissed his way back up to her lips and plunged his tongue into her mouth. He usually was a little more civilized, but when it came to Maria, he just couldn't contain himself.
"Oh, geez."
They both stopped kissing when they became aware of another person in the room. Michael looked up, and Maria tilted her head backward to see Kyle standing next to the couch, his mouth wide open. He looked shocked to walk in on them in such a state.
"I just came by to . . ." Even though he must have wanted to walk away, Kyle just stared at them. "Carry on," he said as he backed up towards the door. He gave Michael a thumbs-up on his way out.
Michael chuckled and shook his head. "We're gonna have to lock the door from now on."
"Definitely," she agreed, gazing at him as though they'd never stopped kissing. "Well, you heard him," she said. "Carry on." She giggled, and he heard himself make a low, growling sound deep in his throat as he sought out her mouth again. And again, one thought crossed his mind.
Incredible.
...
Kyle rubbed his eyes, trying to get the images out of his head. He had nothing against seeing two people getting hot and heavy, but when one of those people was his best friend . . . there was just nothing sexy about it.
"Hey, Kyle."
Having been trying to find the correct key to insert into the lock on the door to his apartment, he startled when he heard Tess's voice. He dropped his keys on the floor and quickly bent to pick them up. "Tess," he said. "Hey, what're you doin' here?"
"Hmm, Maria and I had this movie night planned, but I dropped her off here first, figured she and Michael had some drama to work out," she explained. "And since she's been in there and I've been waiting outside in the car for over an hour now, I'm assuming they're working it out by making out."
Kyle nodded. "Yeah, I just walked in on 'em. I really gotta learn to knock now."
"Yeah," she agreed. "Well, good for them. They deserve to be happy."
So do you, he thought as he surveyed her. She didn't look happy at all.
"Well, I guess I'll head home now," she decided. "See you later, Kyle."
"Yeah." He watched her turn and walk down the hallway, but then he came to his senses and realized there was no reason for her to spend a perfectly good evening alone if she didn't have to. "Tess."
She turned back around.
"What movie?"
She scrunched up her forehead in confusion. "Excuse me?"
"What movie were you and Maria gonna watch?" he asked.
"Oh . . . Texas Chainsaw Massacre, I think."
"Oh, a horror movie, huh? Well, I get kinda squeamish at the sight of blood, and sometimes I make this high-pitched noise when I get scared; but I'll watch it with you if you want." He didn't see any harm in offering.
She looked right at him in silence for a moment, then said, "Okay."
And just like that, he had a night alone with Tess. "Okay."
An hour later, having paid a visit to the movie store and rented way more movies than either one of them could afford, they sat together on his couch watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Kyle had insisted on turning off all the lights so that it would be scarier, and he was living to regret it. He was so scared he was about to pee in his pants. Horror movies were just not his thing.
"Ah!" he squeaked out, that same high-pitched noise he'd warned Tess about. "Oh! God, that's gotta hurt." He winced, watching through half-closed eyes as the chainsaw guy hacked away at one of the girls. "Oh, this is . . . is that that guy's face? Is he wearing the other guy's face?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Tess?" When he looked beside him, he found Tess slouched over onto the arm of the couch, sleeping. She looked so . . . sad. He turned down the volume on the movie and reached over to tap her shoulder. "Tess."
"Mmm-hmm," she mumbled before sitting up and coming to. "What? Oh, sorry."
"Tired?" he asked.
"Yeah, I barely slept all last night, and then I had to work today." She raked her hands through her hair and sighed. "I should probably just head home."
"Or . . ." He used the remote control to shut the movie off. "You could stay here, sleep in my bed. I'll sleep on the couch." He saw no need for her to drive home when she was so tired and risk nodding off at the wheel.
"Oh, Kyle, that's nice of you, but you don't have to."
"I don't mind," he assured her. Selfishly, he didn't want his time with her to be cut short.
"We can sleep in the same bed," she told him.
His eyes widened at the thought. "You-you sure?"
She smiled weakly. "I don't mind."
Fifteen minutes later, Kyle found himself lying in bed next to the girl of his dreams. He was stiff as a board, had the covers pulled all the way up to his neck. She seemed completely calm. Of course.
"Tess?" he said quietly. "Are you asleep yet?"
"No," she replied. "Sometimes I wish I could just shut my mind off or get it to relax, you know?"
She's keeping me awake, Kyle thought, but I'm not the one keeping her awake. "But you can't stop thinking about him, can you?"
"Actually, I can't stop thinking about me," she corrected. "It sounds entirely selfish, I know; but this past week has really pointed out the fact that . . . I don't even know who I am anymore. Maybe I never knew."
He rolled over onto his side to look at her. She was gazing up at the ceiling. She looked sort of lost. "Well, you may not know who you are," he said, "but I do. You're a good person. You're fun to be around. And no one should ever hurt you, because you don't deserve to be hurt."
Slowly, she turned her head to the left to look at him. "Neither do you," she said, reaching up to touch his face. His bruises were almost gone now, but not quite. They might never really be gone.
"Goodnight, Kyle," she whispered, rolling over onto her side so that her back was facing him.
He wanted to reach out to stroke her hair or touch the back of her neck, something that a boyfriend would do. But he couldn't do that. So he settled for saying "Goodnight, Tess," in return and closed his eyes, hoping that he could fall asleep with her lying next to him.
...
Maria rolled over the next morning and felt Michael lying next to her. She smiled, remembering how their relationship had progressed last night, and her heart flitter-fluttered in her chest at all the possibilities ahead of them now. It felt nice to wake up in such a good, hopeful mood.
She opened her eyes and saw that he was already awake, watching her. "Hey," she said, smiling.
"Good morning." He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the lips. So natural. It didn't feel awkward at all, even though it probably should have.
"Mmm, 'morning," she returned, curling up on her side. "Trippy, huh?"
"What?"
"Well, the last time we woke up in this bed, we were just friends. Now . . . we're not just friends." She grinned and rubbed her bare feet against his beneath the covers. "It's funny how fast things can change."
"You think this was fast?"
"It seemed fast to me."
"Not to me." He gazed up at the ceiling and sounded a bit fearful as he asked, "So, if we're not just friends anymore . . . what are we?"
"I don't know," Maria replied, too fixated on his mouth to give his question much thought. "You tell me." She bent her head down and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, wishing he wasn't wearing a shirt. Or any clothes, for that matter.
He chuckled and turned over onto his side so that he lay facing her. "Yeah, we need to talk."
"You keep saying that."
"Well, we do."
She sighed, frustrated that Michael wasn't going to put his mouth to better uses. She was the girl; she was supposed to be the one who wanted to do the talking. But her hormones were raging out of control for him, and unlike him, she had little to no self-control. "Fine, you wanna know what we are?" she said, resting one hand against his chest. "We are Michael and Maria, and there's nothing else to talk about." She smiled and kissed him on the lips again.
He slowly kissed her back, then groaned. "Oh, I wanna keep kissing you," he said, "but I can't. 'Cause we do have to talk, Maria. You know that. If we don't, we're gonna regret it."
She frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. In fact, for the first time in a long time, I feel like everything's right. And I wanna make sure it stays right, you know? We're diving into this thing head first. There's no turning back."
She supposed he was right. In less than forty-eight hours, their entire relationship had changed. That was something to be excited about, but not something to be taken lightly. "A leap of faith," she acknowledged.
"Yeah. I just don't wanna screw up what we already have."
"We won't," she assured him, although she was well aware of the fact that being romantically involved was much riskier than just being friends and roommates.
"Because it means a lot to me," he added.
"Me, too. But Michael, I've never felt closer to you than I do right now." She smiled and draped her leg over his, using physical proximity to convey the emotional closeness she felt. For the first time in a long time, she felt as though she had taken the blinders off and was seeing what was really in front of her: a great guy. A great, sexy who just happened to care about her a lot and be an amazing kisser. She wished she'd realized that sooner. He probably had. "So," she said, "how long have you been rocking this crush on me?" She had to know.
He laughed in embarrassment. "I'm not 'rocking a crush.'"
"Well, you were until I found out about it. So?"
He seemed to realize that she wasn't letting up. "I don't know," he muttered in response. "Awhile now."
"Give me numbers. Give me units of measurement. Give me something."
"A couple of weeks," he elaborated. "I've probably had feelings for you for a few months, but I didn't realize it until-"
"The Billy era?" she cut in impatiently.
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"Tess told me."
"What?" he spat. "She wouldn't tell me anything about you."
"That's because Tess and I share a . . . a bond of femininity," she explained, "and you're not very feminine. Mr. Dick."
He chuckled and shook his head. "Mr. Dick. So how long have you been rocking a crush on Mr. Dick?"
"Uh, I haven't been," she answered honestly.
He made a face. "Ah, that stings."
"No, honestly, before we kissed, I didn't even think about kissing you. And now it's all I can think about. I'm such an addict."
"Yeah, me, too," he admitted. "So, if you're gonna be kissing me, does that mean you're not gonna be kissing anyone else?"
She knew exactly what he was asking and the way he was asking it absolutely adorable. "Subtle way to find out if we're dating."
"Well, we gotta figure it out," he said. "I mean, I know you. You're not real big on serious dating."
"In other words, I like to slut it up."
"No, that's not what I meant at all," he denied emphatically. "Uh . . . you like to have fun."
She nodded, smiling. "In P.C. terms."
"And I like to have fun. I just have less fun with fewer people. I guess I wanna know if we're gonna be exclusive."
She already knew the answer to that question, but it didn't hurt to drag out her response. "Well, is that what you want?"
"Of course."
"Well . . . that's a loaded question. Good question." She scrunched his t-shirt up in her hands and pulled herself closer to him. "Opposites really do attract, huh?" she teased. "'Cause look at us: Two totally different lifestyles, different histories. You were with the same bitch—oh, did I say bitch? I meant to say witch—for two years, all committed and monogamous." She grunted and made a face. Isabel Evans was one stupid, horrible person for breaking Michael's heart. "Well, at least you were committed. And then there's me, and I've never tried to make it work with anyone. Except for Billy, but we all knew that was doomed."
He looked right at her, obviously apprehensive. "So . . ."
She forced herself to try to look serious when she said, "So what if I told you I don't wanna be all committed and monogamous with you? Maybe I just don't have it in me." But she did. Deep down, beneath the wild, party-girl exterior, girlfriend Maria was there and ready for Michael.
"Honestly?" he said. "I'd be pissed."
"What would you do?"
"I'd yell, and I'd glue things together."
She laughed. "Oh, no."
"And I'd accidentally spill paint on all your favorite clothes."
"Oh, no!"
"Yeah, that's how pissed I'd be. It wouldn't be fun for anyone."
She stared to smile. He was such a dork. He was so different than all the other guys she'd been involved with over the years. "So what if I told you I do wanna be committed and monogamous with you? Or at least try." She couldn't promise anything, but with Michael, she'd give her best effort. And since he was such an amazing kisser and such an amazing guy, it probably wouldn't be that hard to succeed.
"Then I'd like that," he said. "A lot."
"So would I." She pressed her lips to his, hoping he could feel her smile. She couldn't stop smiling.
"So we're—we're doin' it?" he asked for clarification.
"We can, if you take your pants off."
He laughed lightly. "No, I mean we're . . . we're dating. We're a couple now."
"Couple of friends who kiss," she joked, loving that look of alarm that flared in his eyes. "No, just kidding. We're dating. And living together. And maintaining a friendship. And kissing."
"That's definitely the best part." He encompassed her smaller frame in his arms and pressed a soft yet adamant kiss to the side of her neck.
"God, you're so good at that," she moaned, plastering her body against his. "Don't let it go to your head, though. You're head's already big enough."
"What?" He pulled back a little. "No, that's my hair. I have big hair."
"Yeah, what exactly is up with your hair right now anyway?" she said, teasing his wild mane with her fingers. "It's all over the place." It looked very slept-on and out-of-control. Usually it was just flat when he woke up, not extending outward in every possible direction.
"That's 'cause you messed it up last night, runnin' your hands through it," he explained. "You can't keep your hands off me. You pervert."
She laughed. "I'm a pervert?"
He nodded.
"You're right, I am a pervert." She shifted her weight against him, pushing him down onto his back so she could lie atop him. "And I can't keep my hands off you, you sexy beast!"
"Sexy beast?"
Her hair fell forward and curtained his face as she kissed him. If this was what it felt like to be committed and monogamous . . . she could get used to it.