The rest of the day seems to drag, but no one bothers me. I keep expecting someone to barge through the locked door. Twenty percent of my mind is betting that it will be Luke, and the other eighty knows that if it's anyone, it will be Michael. I can't tell if I want that or if I'm dreading it.
But it is a reality that I do not have to face. Four o'clock comes around quickly, despite the hours seeming to drag. I take the elevator alone to the lobby and no one is around to even wish me goodbye. I do my best to shake off the events of the day, head whirling with how fast it all changed.
One minute we were giggling and flirting, the next he was furious and raging. I can't keep up, but I can't stop trying to keep up. If I keep running after him like this, I am going to fall. And Michael won't catch me.
My head is pounding as I take the stairs to my apartment; the elevator seeming unwilling to cooperate today. All I can think of is showering and sleeping; washing off the memories and dreaming away the confusion.
But that's all shot to hell as soon as I step into the apartment, and I should have seen it coming.
"Don't freak out," Michael's voice sounds from the darkness. I jump a little at the unexpected noise, but I just sigh. I don't know why I didn't expect this.
"What are you doing, Michael?" I say. My voice sounds exhausted and I hope it makes him feel guilty.
"Kate, listen to me please," he begs. I am quiet as I enter the kitchen and flick the light on. He is sitting in the barstool which I have come to associate with him only, he is the only one who ever uses it.
"You could have turned on the light," I point out. "Instead of just breaking in and sitting in the dark."
"Kate."
"What, Michael?"
"I'm sorry," he says, his elbows resting against the counter.
"For what?" I ask.
"For... I... For whatever you're mad at me about?"
"Go home, Michael." I drop my head into my hands.
"No, Katherine, please." He stands up and crosses over to me, tugging at my arms which I have crossed across my chest. For whatever reason, I let him. I have to fight my smile as he pulls my arms around his waist and pulls me to his chest, resting his chin on top of my head.
"I'm mad at you," I mumble.
Michael's arms tighten around my waist. "I know."
"Do you know why?" I press.
"Because I'm an asshole."
I laugh. "Yes."
"I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't mean to... get like that. Just seeing the way he looked at you, I-"
"Michael." I pull away to look up at his face. The pained expression encourages me to go easier on him. "Michael, I didn't go to lunch with Luke today." His expression softens slightly as I tighten my arms around his waist. "I didn't kiss Luke today." I bring my hand up to his hair. "I didn't come home to Luke today."
Michael leans his head into my palm and his eyes close as he inhales a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he says again. "I know that, I shouldn't have... I just shouldn't have." He shakes his head a little and looks down at me, his pupils dilating slightly. I give his waist a squeeze and smile shyly up at him, acceptance of his apology. "Can I kiss you again?" He whispers, his face dangerously close to mine.
I nod my head, using my hand to pull his face down to mine. Michael's hands rest comfortably on my waist as I kiss him once, very lightly. My thumb rubs over the stubble on his chin as he smiles down at me, and I know that no matter how long whatever this is lasts, I never want him to stop looking at me like that. The shy smile, the eyelashes that flutter if you stare too long, the shaky breaths.
