A/N: thanks for all the feedback! I'm not sure how long this one is going to go maybe five or so chapters. Let me know what you think!
"Just like that?"
Rick stared at her, incredulous.
"Just like that," Michonne snapped her fingers for emphasis.
Rick scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. "He's crazy."
"Nah," Michonne reached for a sip of the bottle between them, relishing the tang of the prosecco. They were seated in the flatbed of Rick's truck, the remnants of a feast of Taco Bell and Rick's prom crown beside them. She had long since lost track of the time, and found she didn't much mind.
"He is," Rick insisted, coaxing the container from her hand and taking a pull, "If he can let you go, then he's crazy." His knuckles brushed hers as he took the bottle from her.
Michonne felt warmth flood her that she was sure had nothing to do with the alcohol. "What about you?"
Rick sat the bottle down. "What about me?" he tilted his head at her. Michonne became distracted as his curls flopped endearingly in his face. This was the most she had ever looked at Rick up close. She found that she did not mind the view. His cheeks dimpled when he smiled, matching the small cleft in his chin. There was a boyish quality to his whole face, but she could see the man starting to form beneath it. Even now, his face was dusted with light peach fuzz. She wondered how long it would take him to grow a beard.
"Lori," Michonne licked her lips, tasting the remnants of the bubbly drink. "She's crazier than Mike."
"How do you figure?" Rick laughed.
Michonne paused, taking another gulp as she chose her words. "She was…possessive."
Rick burst out into laughter, clutching his side.
"I'm serious!" Michonne's voice was much too loud, but neither of them noticed. "We've been in school together since 8thgrade, and we've talked how many times?" she gestured, ticking off her fingers.
"You're saying you couldn't talk to me because of Lori?" Rick snorted.
"I'm saying if any girl came within a foot of you, she bit their head off." Michonne giggled.
"Not true," Rick protested.
"Oh yeah?" Michonne poked him in the chest. "How many female friends do you have then?"
Rick paused, looking flabbergasted, as if the thought had just occurred to him. "Ok, you have a point."
"I know I do," Michonne grinned proudly. "She made sure no other girls got around you. And then look what she does!" the words were tumbling out fast and hard. "That's why she's crazier than Mike."
"Because she cheated on me?" Rick asked, leaning back. "Or because she wanted me all to herself?"
"Both," Michonne did not pause in her response. "She acted like she didn't trust you, but really you couldn't trust her." Maybe she'd been watching too much Oprah lately. The Queen of daytime television's sage advice sprung forward. "And with Shane Walsh!" she scoffed. "You're much cuter than Shane," Michonne informed him.
"Cute," Rick snorted, looking amused. "Great." There was a clear lack of enthusiasm in his voice.
"What?" Michonne asked. "Cute is good."
"Whatever. No dude wants to be cute. Cute is for puppies and purses." Rick picked up her bedazzled bag as an example.
"Fine," Michonne conceded the point. "Then if you don't want to be cute, what do you want to be?"
He shrugged, working his arms out of his tuxedo jacket. "I don't know. Think of some other adjectives."
Never one to back away from a challenge, Michonne sat up straighter. "Ok," she began, taking a long hard look at the young man in front of her. "You're… a good athlete," she ventured. It was an understatement, really. Gaggles of girls had taken to gathering beneath the bleachers when the baseball team practiced just to see Rick warm up in his gym clothes. Game nights were always packed. His fastball was legend around these parts. Rumor had it that colleges had started trying to sign him as early as their junior year.
"Thanks," Rick freed himself from the jacket, offering it to her. Michonne pulled it on, grateful for a reprise. She wasn't cold at all, but she didn't want the boy next to her to see the goosebumps that kept running up her arms when he looked at her.
"So, you're athletic," she got back on track, wishing they had more prosecco to sip on. Rick had only managed to grab a bottle that he was sure wouldn't be missed from his basement. Michonne wondered who he planned to share it with tonight.
"You covered that," he reminded her cheekily, leaning against the back of his truck. He stretched his legs out on the flatbed in front of them.
"Patience," she chided, full of false confidence. "I'm trying to think."
"It can't be good, if you're taking that long to think of something nice to say," he chuckled lowly.
"It's hard!" Michonne wasn't lying. Between the alcohol, the lateness of the hour, and the boy next to her, her mind had gone fuzzy.
"No it ain't," his accent came out swinging in full-force.
"You try it then," she challenged.
"Sure," Rick cracked his knuckles, a motion she recognized from watching him pitch. "You're beautiful," he told her.
Michonne felt her blood rush to her face. "It's the dress," she lifted the fabric as an example. Purple was her favorite color. She had picked it out despite Mike's request to wear something red, his favorite.
Rick eyed her outfit appreciatively. "Might be helping, but it ain't the dress. You're beautiful all the time. You've got half these guys round here trying to hook up with you."
"Explains how I ended up winning this crown," Michonne deflected. She generally ignored the boys at school. For one thing, she'd had Mike, steady, dependable, and handsome. For another, she wasn't long for King County. Leaving home was easier without attachments. "I figured it'd be Lori." Lori was the kind of girl Michonne suspected would live and die as the queen of a one-horse town.
Rick shook his head, reaching for the aforementioned tiara nestled in her hair. "Lori's pretty, but she's got nothing on you." He pinned her with his glance. "Lori wasn't mean about any girls being around me. She was mean about you."
"Me?" Michonne's brows jumped. "We barely even talked."
"Doesn't mean I didn't look at you," a blush was crawling up Rick's neck, barely visible in the light from the streetlamps.
"Why were you looking at me?" she asked, nervous.
"Same reason all the boys do." Rick smirked. "You're a hottie."
Michonne smiled, suddenly unable to look directly at him. "You're good at this." She'd heard smooth talking before, but it had never had this effect. She was glad that the alcohol was gone now.
Rick laughed. "That's because you're way more than just 'cute'."
"These guys trying to get with me…" Michonne felt the words leaving her before she could think too much on them. "Are you one of them?"
"If you have to ask, I'm worse at flirting than I thought," this statement was accompanied with another head tilt. Her heart began to flutter like a wounded moth.
"I just broke up with Mike—" the excuses welled up instantly.
"I just broke up with Lori," Rick countered. "So what?"
"I'm leaving in August," she tried again.
"That's three months away," Rick scooted closer to her. "You running out of excuses?"
"Rick I—" she couldn't find the right words. Common sense was warring with the heat of the moment and losing.
He cut her off. "Are you drunk?"
She blinked in confusion. "What? No," She was tipsy maybe. Flushed, certainly; but never in her life had Michonne been drunk.
"Good." Rick moved closer to her. "'Cause I'm going to kiss you, Michonne, unless you tell me no."
"Why?" she asked, her mouth dry.
"Because no prom queen as pretty and funny as you deserves to end her night without a kiss," Rick told her.
Michonne considered this. If this night had gone to plan, she'd probably be at that party in the woods with Mike. They'd have kissed certainly. Maybe Mike would have wanted more. It was prom night, after all. She knew things were expected of couples on prom night.
Flushing at the thought, she took in the boy sitting only inches from her. Was he thinking about Lori, about what they would have been doing? Or did the luck of a vote or two make fate place them together here, recently single, and staring at one another?
"Ok," Michonne whispered her answer. Rick heard her.
His lips were warm, the faint traces of the sparkling beverage lingering on them. He started so gentle that Michonne was sure he only meant to touch his mouth to hers out of some misguided attempt to be polite tonight. His hand groped for hers between their bodies, his fingers lacing with her own. Michonne pulled back just the slightest to look at him.
"That was…" she searched for a word to break the tension. "Nice."
Rick let out a disbelieving bark of laughter. "That's me, the cute, nice guy." He held onto her hand, shaking his head.
"What's wrong with that?" she asked, warming to him quickly.
"That's not how I want to kiss you," Rick told her, his cheeks glowing.
"Then how?" Michonne questioned.
He answered by fusing his mouth to hers again. There was nothing tentative in his touch now. Firm lips slanted over hers and before she knew it, their once chaste kiss had melded into an open mouthed makeout session in public. Whatever tricks he'd picked up, he employed them all. Michonne melted in Rick's arms like chocolate left out in the sun. His tongue dueled with hers, curling inside of her mouth until she shivered at the sensation. She fell forward into him, but he only wrapped her tighter against his chest, freeing her mouth so that he could dust kisses down her cheek and neck.
Mike had never done that. He'd never even asked. Michonne wasn't sure she would have let him anyway. PDA was something for fast girls. If she had ever been caught making out with a guy, her reputation would have been shot. Her breath was coming in gasps now, her hands curling into the front of his dress shirt.
"Rick," his name left her on a sigh. She wasn't sure what she needed to say. Her head was swimming.
He stopped, allowing some space between them. The air swirled, cooling her overheated body. Michonne sighed in relief.
"You ok?" he asked her, letting her lull back against his truck.
Michonne swallowed. Truthfully, she wasn't sure. Her body seemed to be thrumming now, crying out for more.
"I didn't think you—" she took another breath. "I've never been kissed like that."
Rick shook his head again, smiling to himself. "Like I said, Mike's crazy."
"Where did you learn that?" Michonne asked dizzily.
Rick paused. "Practice," he settled on the safe word.
Michonne couldn't believe that Lori had let that kind of kissing slip away from her. No wonder she was possessive. "I don't think I would mind practicing more," she ventured. Rick reached for her, a shit-eating grin on his face. Michonne moved back. "Maybe not tonight," she amended.
He nodded solemnly. "My bad," he apologized.
"It's ok," she assured him. "It was a good kiss."
"A cute kiss?" he asked, cocking a brow.
Michonne laughed. "Something like that."
"I'd like to do it again," Rick told her, pushing a stray strand of her hair back.
"Maybe we will," she leaned her head on his shoulder, exhaustion catching up with her.
"Give me a little bit," Rick whispered, pulling her under his arm. "I'll be good to drive soon. Then I'll take you home."
"No rush," Michonne could feel herself drifting off, warm beneath his jacket.
"I had fun tonight, Michonne," Rick kissed her on the forehead.
"Me too," she mumbled, leaning into him.
"Maybe we can do it again soon," he said.
Her eyes still closed, Michonne smiled. "Maybe."
-l-l-l-l-
The second time came three weeks later, behind the gym after graduation rehearsal.
She didn't mean to. After prom, she'd decided that she and Rick were going to be just friends. He was nice, sure, and hot, but he was fresh out of a relationship and so was she. According to Cosmo, at most, they were destined to be each other's rebounds. Michonne didn't need a rebound. She was fine on her own.
They'd spent the last three weeks in each other's orbit, chatting between classes, sitting next to one another at lunch. Andrea didn't seem to notice the change in their relationship, most likely because Rick was often flanked by the rest of the baseball team. Even Sasha bit her tongue when Zeke was around. Graduation was around the corner and things were changing at King County High. Anything could happen.
Anything did happen when a fight broke out between the student body president and the cheerleading captain during graduation rehearsal. It'd been brewing for years, really, a friendly rivalry that had taken a sharp edge with the addition of hormones. Lori, newly single and not shy about flaunting it, flirted with Shane Walsh in front of Andrea. To put it lightly, all hell had broken lose.
Michonne stood in a long line of her classmates, fiddling with her cap and gown. The hat felt tight on her still-tender head.
"Keep messing with your hair and you're going to ruin those braids," Sasha cautioned, smirking at her.
"Your cousin puts them in tight," Michonne lamented.
"You're the one who wanted to go from Brandy to Janet in Poetic Justice," Sasha teased. "There was nothing wrong with those first braids. Who are you trying to impress?"
Michonne's eyes flickered across the gym to the line of boys. Rick was leaning against the wall, flanked on either side by Zeke and Glenn. He felt her gaze and gave her a wink. Michonne's face flushed.
"Are you looking at Mike?" Sasha questioned.
"Mike?" Michonne realized too late that her ex was just two boys away from Rick, chatting with his best friend Terry.
"Believe me, he knows what he's missing," Sasha filled her in. "Ty says the guys haven't stopped giving him shit for dropping you. They think he's crazy."
Michonne digested this. "I didn't change my hair for Mike. I changed it because I wanted to."
"All right, Chonne. I'm still waiting for you to go Waiting to Exhale on Mike's dumb ass." Sasha made a face in Mike's direction.
Michonne laughed. "He's not worth looking stupid for."
"True," Sasha agreed. "Did you hear from UCLA yet?"
Michonne bristled at the change in topic. She'd almost forgotten about school in the whirlwind of the last few weeks. "There might be more financial aid, but I won't know for a few months."
Sasha nodded thoughtfully. "Same with the Academy. I should hear soon."
"You're really going to do it?" Michonne asked. "You're valedictorian. You could go anywhere."
"I could," Sasha smirked. "And I want to go to Air Force Academy."
"You're going to kick ass," Michonne told her. She could picture it already.
"I know," Sasha shrugged.
"I think I need a job this summer," Michonne told her. "Just in case."
"Not a bad plan." Sasha nodded thoughtfully. "Any idea where?"
"I was thinking the movie theater," Michonne's gaze wandered back to Rick. He looked good in his black gown.
"Zeke works there," Sasha commented. "And Shane. You sure you can spend a whole summer around Walsh?"
"I couldn't care less about Shane," Michonne answered, laughing.
"I heard he had his hand up Lori's skirt," Sasha lowered her voice, turning her head to look for Andrea. Their friend was standing in the front of the line, ready to lead the charge. "Drea's acting like she hasn't heard the rumor."
Michonne swallowed. "She's got it bad for him." Neither Sasha nor Michonne understood the attraction.
"Better Shane than Phillip," Sasha commented.
"That's not saying much," Michonne laughed.
"I heard Rick works at the theater too. I can't believe he hasn't beat Shane's ass." Sasha turned her attention to the cluster of baseball players in the opposite corner.
"He's better off without her," Michonne said. She'd enjoyed having Rick around these past few days, even if they were just friends. Sasha didn't even mind the new addition to their group.
"Speak of the damn devil," Sasha's tone changed. Lori Wayne was striding around the gym in her Steve Madden Mules, hair swishing in a long curtain down her back. She made a beeline for the jocks in the back. "This should be good," Sasha scrambled for a better view.
The girls watched as Lori infiltrated the group of boys, flicking her hair in Rick's face. Rick took a step back, looking as though he would rather be anywhere else right now.
"Hi Shane," Lori's tone was girlish, deliberately flirtatious.
"Oh shit," Sasha breathed.
She and Michonne whipped their heads around. Andrea was already on the move, her face turning pink as she tapped Lori hard on the shoulder.
"Uh-oh," Michonne muttered.
The fight happened in the blink of an eye. In seconds, the gym dissolved into pure chaos. Andrea pushed Lori straight into the wall. Lori responded with a resounding slap. Michonne and Sasha got knocked apart in the resulting stampede. Their classmates were jockeying for better position, shouting, laughing, cheering, and chanting.
"Girl fight!" the cry went up and clearly caught on, echoing around. Michonne happily retreated to the back. No way was she willing to get dragged in a fight a day before graduation.
Two full rows of chairs got knocked over before the administration was able to pull the girls apart. The baseball team wasn't much help as they whooped and hollered, congratulating Shane on having two of the school's hottest girls fighting over him. Ty ended up having to pull Andrea off of Lori while Sasha shouted for them to get it together. In all of the commotion, Michonne felt someone tug at her hand.
"C'mon." It was Rick, smirking as their graduating class surged forward.
Michonne scanned the crowd around them. Every eye was on the two women still hollering profanities at one another. She paused for just a moment.
"All right," she took his hand, hurrying with him out of sight.
Rick ran them down the hall and out of the doors. Summer had come early to King County this year. It wasn't yet 10 am, but the sun was beating down, the humidity already sweltering. Michonne giggled breathlessly as Rick tugged her into a nook between the buildings in the shade.
Michonne allowed her back to hit the wall. Rick wasted no time in cornering her.
"You changed your hair," Rick reached for one of her long twists.
"I did," Michonne smiled at him, brushing her hair forward for his inspection.
"I like it," he dropped her hair in lieu of cupping her chin. Michonne met him halfway. Their gowns rustled against each other in their scramble to get closer to one another.
The kiss came easier this time, sliding seamlessly into a rhythm. Michonne reached for his hair beneath his cap, tugging at the curls as she nipped at his lips.
"I thought you wanted to just be friends?" Rick asked her in between kisses.
"Who says we're not friends?" Michonne fired back, taking a page out of his book and kissing him on the neck. Rick let out a deep groan, his hands burning into her waist through her graduation gown.
"Fine," he ground out, returning the favor. Michonne's mouth fell open and she clung tighter to him. "Friends." He pulled back, pinning her with his gaze. "For now."
He silenced any protest she might have made with another kiss.
They returned to the gym ten minutes later, slightly disheveled but no worse for the wear. The principal was midway through a lecture on proper graduation etiquette. Michonne slid into her seat near Sasha. Her friend shot her a weird look.
"Where'd you go?" she mouthed.
Across the gym, Rick took his proper place, shooting her a smile before sitting down himself.
"Nowhere," Michonne lied, turning her attention back to the front.
