Happy New Year!
In a moment of exasperation, Michonne exclaimed, "I just can't understand why someone would text 'What are you up to?' and then leave you hanging." her figure danced in and out of the camera's view, a blur of frustration and determination.
The laptop was perched on a bed that occupied the center of the guest room, a space that was both airy and cluttered with an array of picture frames lining the walls, a peeling white dresser, and a hideously charming vintage floral armchair that had seen better days.
Today marked a turning point; she had finally found the drive to begin sorting through her Aunt's possessions, making headway with the support of her friends, Rosita and Sasha.
While they weren't physically there to help, their faces beamed from her laptop screen, providing just the right amount of distraction to keep her hands busy.
"Wait, I thought you wanted him to give you space," Rosita remarked, a puzzled expression crossing her features.
" I did… do," Michonne replied, quickly correcting herself. "I just think it's weird for him not to respond"
"Why does it bother you if you want him to back off?" Sasha inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm not bothered!" Michonne shot back, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice.
"You've been hung up on the fact he hasn't texted you. It sure sounds like you bothered," Rosita chimed in, a teasing smile playing on her lips.
Sasha nodded, glancing at Rosita. "Yeah, she definitely is."
Michonne, however, shook her head, lifting a delicate white curtain decorated with vibrant red and blue flowers. Her expression silently inquired if they should keep the fabric or toss it.
Without missing a beat, Rosita declared, "Toss them out!" Michonne carefully placed the fabric into one of the several boxes that cluttered the room, all filled with items destined for donation.
"I don't get why you won't give the guy a chance," Sasha said
"Honestly! If a man repaired my plumbing and made me cum within the same hour, I'd be planning our wedding!" Rosita quipped with a playful grin.
Michonne turned away from the camera and knelt on the floor. Her fingers grasped the edges of a small area rug. With a gentle tug, she rolled it up, exposing a disconcerting layer of dust that had settled beneath it, a testament to neglect.
With her expression serious. "I've already said this; it was just too overwhelming. I barely knew him for more than two hours, and he was already moaning my name like I was his forever or something."
Sasha let out a light laugh, "Darling, that's what they refer to as chemistry. I realize it's been a while since you've been on a date, but come on"
"I know what chemistry is," she replied, her voice firm. "But this was something else- maybe it was the speed at which everything happened, but it was way too intense. He is intense, looking down my pants in the middle of the parking lot level intense.
"First off, that was incredibly hot; if I were in your shoes, I would have jumped him right then and there. Secondly, it sounds like you're just a bit scared," Rosita teased, calling Michonne out.
"I'm not scared," Michonne shot back, her voice firm as she tried to maintain her composure.
"Sorry, Michonne, but you seem scared," Sasha remarked, delivering the revelation with a hint of sympathy.
Scared? No way! What was there to be afraid of? If anything, she felt embarrassed at how willing she was to, in the words of Rosita, "jump him" back there at the parking lot.
Just as she was about to defend herself, her phone buzzed, breaking the moment.
Rosita leaned in, her grin widening. "Is that him texting you?"
"I don't know," Michonne said, shrugging it off like it was no big deal.
"Come on, don't play it cool! Check if it's him! "Rosita urged, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
With a dramatic roll of her eyes, she reached for her phone.
Rick: Hey, sorry for the radio silence. It was my week with the kids, and they decided to be a handful right before they left. Anyway, what are you up to this weekend?
It was just as her logical side had suspected; he was swamped with the kids. A wave of embarrassment washed over her, and maybe Sasha and Rosita had a point—she might have been bothered by the fact that he hadn't sent her a message.
She read the text out loud, her tone flat as she glanced at Sasha and Rosita.
"Are you going to reply? You should invite him over for kitchen island part two!" Sasha teased, a grin spreading across her face.
" I'm not going to do that!" Michonne replied, her fingers busy on her phone.
Michonne: No need to apologize. I've got a busy weekend ahead, packing a few things up today and then clearing out some furniture tomorrow.
"No, that's too dismissive, he's going to think you don't have time for him this weekend," Rosita interjected, concern etched on her face.
"Good, 'cause I don't," Michonne shot back, her tone firm.
Sasha and Rosita exchanged exasperated glances, rolling their eyes in unison at their friend's stubbornness.
Rick was quick to respond.
Rick: Need a hand? I'm off for the next four days.
Rick: I have a truck…
"Just say yes," Sasha and Rosita pleaded in unison, their desperation evident. "You could use the help. How are you going to move that huge armchair downstairs all by yourself?" Sasha pressed.
The back-and-forth continued for what felt like ages until they finally managed to sway Michonne.
Michonne: Yeah sure but it's going to be a lot of work.
Michonne felt the need to clarify which Rosita and Sasha tried to protest against.
Rick: Don't mind, I'm at your service
…
An hour had slipped by since she hung up on Rosita and Sasha, and the fatigue was creeping in. The constant movement, sifting through her belongings, and cramming everything into boxes was wearing her out.
There was a heaviness in her heart as she sorted through her aunt's possessions. Maybe that's why she had put it off for so long. It felt like she was stripping the room of its soul, robbing it of its vibrancy. It felt wrong, but it was necessary. If she didn't do it, she'd always feel like she was just a guest in someone else's life.
Then, the doorbell rang, and she perked up immediately. A little break was just what she needed, and the thought of that giant pizza waiting for her on the other side of the door filled her with anticipation.
She swung the door open, greeted by Rick's bright blue eyes and that goofy grin of his. Her excitement quickly shifted to confusion. There he was, standing on her doorstep, the porch light casting a warm glow around him.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice softer than she intended.
With a playful grin, he declared, "I'm here to help!" He knew she wasn't really looking for assistance today, but he didn't want to take any chances that she might change her mind by morning. So, he decided to hop in his car and head over to her place.
He knew it was a daring move, but he was willing to face the possibility of rejection.
"When I said yes, I didn't mean immediately," she said, still trying to wrap her head around the situation.
Oh, I must have misunderstood what you meant," he said, pretending to be clueless.
Her gaze sharpened as she scrutinized his expression. She could see right through his act.
With a playful roll of her eyes, she stifled a grin. "Whatever, just make sure you're here to actually help," she said, poking him in the chest with a serious look.
He flashed her a pretty smile "I'm here to actually help," he repeated his southern drawl smooth and sweet.
Michonne stepped aside, allowing him to come in, and he took the opportunity without hesitation. She quickly closed the door behind them, shutting out the world.
"I ordered pizza it will be here in a few, make yourself comfortable…" she trailed off, her words fading as she caught him staring intently at her under the warm light that illuminated her house.
That familiar intensity was there again, the kind that made her heart race and her instincts scream to flee. It was as if he was lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, contemplating a thousand things while simultaneously thinking of nothing at all.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, attempting to mask her unease with a brave facade.
"I can't help but look at you," he answered, taking a step back toward the couch, his eyes fixed on hers with an unwavering intensity as he sat down.
She shook her head, "You're here to help, remember?" She said, moving to the armchair, deliberately avoiding the couch as if the distance could shield her from the magnetic pull of his presence.
"I'll be good," he said, raising his hands in a gesture of earnestness