This cannot be it, Michonne thinks to herself. She and Lori had just walked into Annie's Diner, the small town's most popular eatery and what would serve as the site for the latter woman's rehearsal dinner.
Three long tables seating eight took up most of the space in the diner. Each table was covered with a white satin tablecloth and an aqua blue runner that cut across the middle. The chairs were similarly decorated in white covers and aqua blue satin sashes tied in bows. A bouquet of pink and white flowers in a glass vase at the center of each table finished off the simplistic and, in Michonne's opinion, budget decor.
To say Michonne was not impressed would be an understatement, but she is determined to be supportive of her longtime friend. Besides, it's pretty much the only requirement of her job as maid of honor - to keep her disapproving thoughts on the meager wedding decor, backwoods setting, and the hillbilly fiancé she's yet to meet, to herself. This, for whatever reason, is what Lori wants, so she'll grin and bear it for the three days and two nights she's expected to be in King County, Georgia. And the prospect of running into the blue-eyed, curly brown-haired stranger would tide her over until she could leave the town.
"Michonne. Michonne… So, what do you think?" a nervous-looking Lori steps into Michonne's line of sight. "I know it doesn't look like much, but it will work, right?" Lori asks, sounding as if she's trying to convince herself as well as her friend.
Michonne is unsure how to respond, guessing her friend already has an idea of what she thinks. But, you're the maid of honor, Michonne. She needs you to reassure her. Michonne grabs both Lori's hands and looking her straight in the eye, says, "I think dinner tonight and the wedding tomorrow will be perfect." It's not saying much, but the words seem to comfort her friend - good. "Now how about you and I go get ready and I tell you about the hot cop I met earlier today?" Michonne asks, taking one of her friends hands and tucking it into her elbow as they head out the diner.
Earlier that day…
"Just a little...bit...mor- argh, come on!" frustrated, Michonne settled back onto the balls of her feet, after pushing the box of spearmint toothpaste out of reach. The lithe dark-skinned beauty had been trying to reach the box at the top of the shelf for a couple of minutes now, to no avail. "This is what I get for leaving the city without stocking up on toiletries." Michonne muttered angrily. However, her heated internal monologue is interrupted by a throat clearing.
Startled and a little embarrassed to be caught talking to herself, Michonne quickly turns to the sound and finds the most handsome man she's ever seen. She clocks the mop of wavy brown hair that falls past his ears first; then his eyes - my God the eyes - how are they so blue? She follows the line of his straight nose down to his plump pink lips that she is now realizing are moving.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," Michonne says, meeting his eyes and face heating up at the thought of being caught thirsting over this stranger.
"I was asking if you needed help. Noticed you were struggling to get something off the shelf..." pink lips answers amusedly.
Oh God, he noticed me checking him out, Michonne thinks. "Ye- yes, please," she stammers uncharacterstically, "I was trying to get the spearmint toothpaste in the back but ended up pushing it out of reach."
"Huh, well, let's see if there's anything I can do about it; if not, we can just ask Carol at the front register whether she has some in back," he offers as he steps into her space, crowding her. Suddenly cotton-mouthed, Michonne, who has nowhere to go, stumbles into the shelf behind her, causing the handsome man to reach out and steady her with strong hands. "Careful now," he murmurs huskily into her ear. Michonne is lost in everything about him - from his heady woodsy scent, to the heat of his hands burning through her shirt sleeves. She risks looking into his glorious blue orbs and... abruptly pushes out of his grasp, as if shocked out of her daze.
It seems she isn't the only one who was caught in the moment, as the man, cheeks turning crimson, rubs the back of his neck with his right hand. He gestures to the shelf with his other hand, as if to signal his intent to get the toothpaste. However, Michonne, still reeling from the previous moment, turns abruptly and leaves the aisle, ignoring the shout from behind her.
Michonne rushes through the rest of her shopping before heading to her Lexus SUV, berating herself for her weird behavior in the personal hygiene section. I cannot believe I spazzed out like that, what am I - thirteen? Lori better have a stash at hers or I'm leaving this trash town tonight. Her thoughts are once more interrupted when she spots the figure of the grocery store hottie next to her car.
Annoyed this time, Michonne accuses, "Please tell me you're not a stalker. Just so you know, I have pepper spray in my bag and I will use it." Bewildered, the man raises both hands in a conciliatory gesture, which is when Michonne notices the green and white tube in his left one. Noting her furrowed brow, the man quickly explains, "I'm not a stalker. I- I just didn't want you to leave without your toothpaste. You seemed very determined to get it… adorably so, in fact," he trails off awkwardly.
"Ok… but how did you know this was my car?" Michonnes interrogates, willing herself to remain unmoved by his words.
"I reckon this is the fanciest car that's ever passed through here, figured it'd belong to the fanciest woman I've ever seen."
"In this town, that's not saying much," Michonne deadpans, unsure whether to be flattered or not by the man's words, which causes him to chuckle.
"Anyway, I just thought it'd be a shame for you to leave without this. Here," he offers the box as he crowds her again, "have your toothpaste." The tension is ratcheted up as soon as their fingers touch, and this time when their eyes meet, Michonne doesn't shy away from the contact. In fact, she does the opposite.
As if drawn to each other like opposite poles of a magnet, they lock lips and warmth blooms in her Michonne's chest. The man steps in closer to wrap his arms around her small waist, and Michonne can only relish the firmness of his lean body against hers, which causes the warmth to lead a fiery trail from her chest straight to her groin. Unsure what to do with her hands, she raises them slowly and tentatively hooks thin fingers in his soft curls.
She cannot say how long they are caught in their embrace, but when their lips finally part, all she can whisper hoarsely is, "Fuck."