Feather

Three

The following couple of weeks at work, for both Michael and Peyton, went by a lot more interestingly than normal. They would send each other shy glances and small smiles. Michael was still distant from the customers but seemed more content, a certain confidence in himself that Peyton had never seen before.

Maybe it was the fact that he knew that, even if he wasn't as open with people, there was that one someone that he could be open with. That one someone that didn't judge his strange love for touching others, that instead let him embrace his love because they had a strange love for being touched. The other half of his love. The half that made his love complete.

Michael also became more forward when it came to his interactions with Peyton. Standing closer, talking more freely, laughing louder. Yes, they were friends before but now it was something else, something more. A boundary had been crossed between them that both were very happy to leave behind. So much so that Michael would walk past Peyton when she least expected it, and lightly run his hand over her bum.

The first time it happened Peyton nearly hit him because she didn't realise who it was but when seeing the smirk on Michael's face as he kept walking made her feel warm inside, and the only thing she could do was smirk right back. The small touches continued, to the point where Michael would stand behind her with his chin resting on her shoulder as he watched her work. Peyton didn't mind at all.

Now as they lay in Michael's bed facing each other, Michael in his clean boxers and damp hair from their recent shower, and Peyton wrapped in nothing but a towel, her wet hair spread across the pillow, they smiled the most honest smile either had done in years. Michael's feather being twirled between Peyton's fingertips as his traced the rose tattoo on her upper arm.

This was their quiet time. They took in the silence after every intimate moment they've had since that first time, letting it all sink in. Everything seemed better somehow. They weren't together, exclusively, but the closeness they had created a certain amount of calm that they got from each other. A sense of peace that it's okay to be exactly what, or who they want to be because there is someone out there for every strange love in existence. Michael and Peyton had found their someone.

"This is nice." Peyton smiled, snuggling into the pillow.

"Yeah," Michael let out a contented sigh, "kind of surreal too."

"Why do you say that?" Peyton shifted slightly, looking up at him with a confused look.

"Well, six years ago I promised myself that I wouldn't touch people anymore, and now I'm laying here with you." He watched is own fingers as they ran up and down Peyton's arm.

"It's been over two years since I've been with anyone. My ex... he and I broke up because well," Peyton hesitated, embarrassed still by that night but then she felt Michael give her arm a squeeze, and she looked up, seeing his sweet eyes looking back at her, so she continued, "one night, we were doing stuff, just like making out and touching. I got so into it and forgot myself that I let go. He was so weirded out by it. He told me that I was a freak and wasn't normal, then he kicked me out if his house and told me he never wanted to see me again," she took a deep breath, "I never thought I'd find someone that I could be myself with after that."

Michael looked at her with the most perplexed look on his face, "what the fuck kind of guy gets freaked out by making his girlfriend come?"

"I don't think that was the problem, Michael," she laughed, "I think the fact that his hand was only on my thigh, and we were still clothed is what did it."

"Your thigh, huh?" He smiles, moving his hand down to grip at her thigh.

"Michael." Peyton let her eyes flutter closed, biting her bottom lip.