PAINT IT RED (MikhAiah)

3: When Lives Collide

When you are courting a nice girl, an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder, a second seems like an hour. That's relativity.

—Albert Einstein

AIAH

It's after five when I start looking at my watch, wondering if I really am being stood up this time. I'm not sure what compelled me to call her, flirt with her, then agree to a date. Maybe it's because I need to feel less like a cold monster and more like a woman.

I lived. Others died.

I lived, yet I feel dead.

Maybe I want to feel alive, considering my time may be limited. I should treasure every moment...when I'm not collecting on an overdue debt. It's not exactly romantic to think of someone while you're slicing another one to pieces, but Mikha was definitely on my mind during the three days I spent reaping the debt from Ben.

Not in the dark recesses of my mind that are reserved for revenge either. No. Mikha was in the good parts that I thought no longer existed. She awakened a long-gone light as though not all the good inside me had been destroyed.

Just as I'm about to text her and find out if she's okay, there's suddenly a body sliding into the seat in front of me, and my eyes pop up to meet a set of soft hazel brown eyes. I could stare at those eyes all day. The rest of her measures up to those perfect eyes too.

She's sin and pleasure wrapped in a package I'm tempted to peek at.

"So sorry," she groans, motioning a waitress over. "There was a traffic jam. I actually had to abuse my power and hit the lights just to get through."

My smile surprises me every time she makes me use it. "It's fine. I was just worried," I lie, well, sort of. I was worried about her, and I was worried I'd been stood up.

Her grin is genuine and instant when she sees I'm not pissed, and the waitress shows up, ending the moment of two idiots grinning at each other.

I honestly can't remember a time when my stomach was fluttering around. I was just a teenager when my life was shattered and the illusion of normality forever stayed out of my grasp.

This is the most human I've felt in so long. And it's just a coffee drive-by on her way to work.

We both order, and the waitress walks away after giving her a quick once over and winking at me as though she approves. Not that I need her approval.

"So, what made you agree to meet me?" she asks, apparently skipping small talk. I guess that's wise, since our time will be limited. Not to mention she interrogates for a living, so it's only natural to start a date out that way with her.

I decide against telling her that she makes me feel like a woman instead of the monster I've had to become, since she'd sort of lock me up and throw away the key.

"What made you want to ask me out?" I ask her instead.

Her grin spreads wider. "You're deflecting, but I'll bite. You've been in my head. Your turn," she says, leaning up on the table with her elbows.

"You've been in my head too."

"Ah, see, that's cheating. You can't just parrot my words to keep from disclosing too much. That's a commonly used tool in a detached personality."

"Stop profiling me," I say with a teasing smile, but secretly hoping she really does stop.

What if she sees too much? What the hell am I thinking? This is the stupidest date I could possibly go on.