Thin Ice

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

CHAPTER FOUR

            Mom insisted that I return home, using explicit words and phrases such as “ungrateful”, or that she’s “tired of being disrespected” and that it was time for me to grow up and leave the hotel. After dad’s encouraging words, I found myself packing up my belongings – with the help of Michael – and returning then to their prior positions in my bedroom.

            Dad hadn’t said much, which kind of upset me.

            “So, what was this big fight about, anyways?” Michael asked once we were in the safe confines of my bedroom. He sat on the corner of the bed and watched me as I put my clothes back into my dresser. I glanced lazily at him in the corner of my eye and sighed.

            “Hockey.”

            Michael raised his eyebrows and a smirk spread on his lips. “Hockey seems to be doing a lot of damage lately, huh?” Michael grinned at me, obviously referring to the encounter with Scotty. He tried to keep his tone light, but the seriousness of the question portrayed easily. His pointed to his bruised eye, signifying the fight he’d gotten into at his last game. Michael played hockey as well, just for our high school.

            I responded with a noncommittal shrug, refusing eye contact.  “Hey,” Michael said more softly, “It was a joke!”

            “Yeah, I know. I just think my problems mean something different to you than they do to me,” I finally responded.

            “What does that even mean?”

            I shrugged again, finally looking over at him. His arms were tense, but he actually looked concerned. “It means that I’m worried about my parents fighting and you’re still hung over on…” I trailed off. “It doesn’t matter, Mike. It’s over and done with. I’m done unpacking. Let’s go get pizza or something?”      

            Michael smiled, relieved to have escaped a fight. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, squeezing comfortingly. He leaned over and kissed my forehead, and then my mouth, and I smiled against his lips.

            “Let’s go,” I kissed him one last time, standing up from the bed. He followed behind, grabbing my hips with his hands. We managed to get downstairs in one piece, and I shouted something in my mother’s general direction about how I would be back before nine. I didn’t wait for a response before shutting the door behind us. I was still distraught by my parents’ fight.

            I looked over at Michael with a smile, glancing at both of our vehicles. “Who’s driving?”

            “I will. You drive like a grandma. It’ll be nine by the time we reach the restaurant.”

            I scowled to myself, but followed Michael to his truck. “You’re a jerk, you know,” I said, and he smirked.

            “It’s part of my charm.”

            Not always.

*

            We reached the restaurant in record timing, considering Michael’s tendency to blow red lights. It was a mistake to leave the window cracked open, considering my hair was in a large snarled mess. “Michael, for Christ’s sake, would it kill you to drive like a sane person?”

            Michael shrugged, walking around the car to meet me at my door. That was one thing about Michael that I admired: he was a gentleman. Despite his tendency to get jealous and his annoying habit of jumping to conclusions, he was brought up well. He had manners, though his oversized ego seemed to override it often.