Sara ran into a cubical and locked the door her cheeks flushed. She put the toilet lid down and sat on it, resting her head in her hands, her beautiful red locks hanging down around her damp eyes.
"Michael" she whispered repeatedly under her breath as her mind raced. How could he do that to her? How could he say such a thing? She had known him for such a short time and knew that it was the one thing she didn't want to hear. How could he have allowed her to see into him?
When he embraced his brother for what was thought to be the last time, tears of bitter pain staining his cheeks, it should have been the first time she'd seen him this way but she had seen it in his eyes before. When he saved her from the savage criminals during the riot almost forfeiting his life in the process it should have been his first act of kindness but for the warmth in his voice from the first words he had spoken to her there was something about them that felt safe despite her lack of trust. She didn't want to believe him. She didn't want to trust him. He was a convict and there was a ringing in her ears every time his voice grew soft and serious. Every time his eyes held her gaze. She had allowed him to build fondness between them. The ringing was a warning bell and eventually it had to be heeded. She asked for formalities and he reluctantly gave them to her, returning to patient doctor basis. However the fondness lingered though there was a wall between them.
Whenever he was brought in injured her stomach plummeted for his safety, he didn't know but she had always been gentler with him. He was strong and barely flinched even though she knew every time his wounds must have burned with pain. And after seeing to his injuries she fought with the urge to pack her things away slowly so more time could be spent with him. She resisted. She knew he wasn't to be trusted; she couldn't help the feeling that he just wanted something from her. Nothing more. Then he went and changed everything.
He wasn't acting normal; his blue eyes were stormy with flecks of green dancing in them. He was stiff and his muscles were tense as though he were nervous; he sat staring partly into space, partly at her. She could feel his gaze on her. It made her uncomfortable so she turned to look at him and that's when he did it. She shook her head trying to empty it of the event but it was too late. Those tender honest whispers lingering on his lips. How could he make her feel this way? How could he do that to her?
How could he make her care for him so much?
How could he kiss her like that?