My Heaven

Deuxième kiss

As I stand in the bathroom, towel still wrapped around me, I take a deep breath. The warmth of the shower lingers on my skin, but there's something more overwhelming than just the heat. Michael. He's out there, just on the other side of this door, and I can feel his presence even through the walls. His words still echo in my mind. "How could I, when I have an angel right here with me?"

I roll my eyes at the thought, but I can't shake the small smile playing on my lips. Idiot, I think to myself. How does he always manage to get under my skin? I mean, sure, he's got that whole charming soldier thing going on, but I'm not supposed to fall for it. Not him. Not anyone.

I glance at myself in the mirror. My wet blonde hair clings to my shoulders, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of the scars on my back. I quickly turn away from the reflection, pushing down the memories. Not tonight, I tell myself. Not while he's here. There's something about him that makes me want to forget the past, forget everything I've been through.

I quickly put on the clothes. I find myself lingering at the door, heart racing a little too fast for comfort. Why does he make me feel like this? I take a breath and finally step out, hoping to mask the way my hands tremble.

Michael is still lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with that far-off look he gets sometimes. But the second I walk into the room, his eyes find me. There's something different about the way he looks at me, though. It's not the usual teasing or the playful smirk. It's softer. Almost vulnerable.

"Still here, huh?" I say, trying to break the silence. My voice comes out a little more breathless than I intend.

He sits up slowly, his gaze never leaving me. "Where else would I be?"

I give him a half-smile as I turn toward my desk, pretending to look for the paper even though I know it's in the drawer. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I hate that he has this effect on me. I feel exposed, not just because I'm standing here in a top and some small shorts, but because I can feel his eyes on me, like he's seeing parts of me that no one else has ever seen.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" His voice is quiet, almost like he didn't mean for me to hear it.

I freeze for a second, my hand lingering on the knob of the drawer. I've heard people say that before, but when Michael says it, it feels different. There's no agenda behind it, no ulterior motive. He's not trying to get something out of me. He just... means it.

I turn around slowly, meeting his gaze. He's sitting on the edge of the bed now, his hands resting on his knees, looking at me like I'm the only thing that exists in the room.

"Don't start with that angel stuff again," I say, trying to keep the moment light.

He stands up, taking a few steps toward me. "I'm not," he says, voice steady. "I mean it. You don't have to hide from me, Ashley."

I blink, caught off guard by his words. He's close now, closer than I would like it, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body. My breath catches in my throat as I try to think of something to say, anything that will keep me from falling apart in front of him.

"I'm not hiding, you asshole," I lie, but even I can hear how weak my voice sounds. I'm not usually like this. What is happening?

He reaches up slowly, giving me plenty of time to pull away if I want to, but I don't. I'm curious to see where this goes. His fingers brush a strand of damp hair off my face, tucking it behind my ear. His touch is gentle, like he's afraid I might break if he's too rough.

"I see you," he whispers, his eyes searching mine.

And just like that, something in me cracks. I hate how much I want to believe him, how much I want to let him in. But I can't. I can't let him see the broken parts of me, the scars that run deeper than just my skin. I can't let anyone see that.