KATE
"Are we there yet?" I whine exaggeratedly, resting my forehead against the cold window of his car.
"We've been driving for four minutes, Katherine." Michael's patience with me is already wearing thin, but I'm enjoying pushing him.
"Ooooh. 'Katherine,'" I quote. "Are you going to send me to my room?"
"Not if you're a good girl," Michael smirks. For a moment I smile back and the air between us returns to normal, or as normal as it ever was. But it doesn't take too long for the silence to settle in, and with it the memory of the tears and the fighting and the slamming doors.
I look down at my lap, but I can't bear it for long. My eyes wander up to Michael's profile, silhouetted against the dark window. His hair is dark, but naturally so, matching the shadow of stubble along his jawline. He has the look of someone who is chronically tired but got a good night's sleep the night before, an odd balance. His relaxed position makes me long for the comfort of his body, with one hand stretched out to hold the steering wheel and the other resting on the middle console, close enough for me to take if I was willing to.
Suddenly Michael's eyes snap to mine for a moment and it's too late for me to look away. "You looked beautiful tonight," Michael says, saving me the embarrassment of being caught staring.
"Thank you," I say softly. "So did you." The corners of his mouth turn up slightly. "I do like the brown better, by the way," I add.
"You do?" He asks, sounding surprised.
"Yeah. It's more... you."
"Are you going to take me back, Kate?"
"What?" I practically gasp.
"Sorry. I'm...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, I just. I don't know. It's driving me mad to be this close to you but this far."
Michael's eyes linger on me when I don't respond, but I don't look back at him.
"I'm sorry," he says again. "It wasn't fair to put you on the spot like that."
"It's okay," I say, feigning nonchalance. "Hey Michael?"
"Yeah?"
"Are we there yet?"
"Oh my God."
I laugh out loud and the air returns to warmth as Michael turns down a few back roads. By this point I know exactly where we're going, but I don't say anything. My suspicions are confirmed when Michael pulls off the road and puts the car in park, turning the key in the ignition so that the car turns off and the interior lights come on.
"Coming?" Michael asks, opening his door.
The freezing air rushes in and I shiver in my jacket, giving Michael my best look of discomfort. But his face is illuminated by the soft glow of the yellow interior lights and his eyes are glinting with hope and my snarky no, I'm not coming is cut off and replaced with a semi-breathless "of course."
Michael's answering smile takes the rest of my breath away and for a second we just stare at each other before I snap back into it and open my own door. The night is pitch black and the air is cold, but it doesn't take too long for my eyes to adjust. The rolling fields are as blank as they ever were, but even from this distance I can see the old airport building silhouetted against the sky about a mile away.
Michael walks next to me in silence, a respectable distance away. I find myself intrigued by the white bursts of breath that leave his lips and hit the frozen air, signifying that his lungs are still working even though I feel as if mine will give out the second that his hand brushes against mine again.
