"Hey," I breathe. It is a rather anticlimactic word to use in such an intense situation. Michael starts towards me and the air between us is calm, despite the way we were yelling at each other just an hour ago.
"Hey," he answers. "Are you leaving?"
"Yeah, I think I should." It takes a lot for me not to make a snappy comment about how he should be getting back to Barbie, but I decide not to push the situation any further.
"Can, um." Michael clears his throat. "Can I come with you?"
Silence falls between us as my head races against my mouth. My head curses at me as it trips just short of the finish line and my mouth wins. "Okay," I say.
Michael closes the space between us and slides his suit jacket off before pulling it around my shoulders. His fingers tap under my chin- it's such an odd thing that he does- before he opens the doors and we walk down the sloping pathway.
The silence between us is heavy, but I don't dare break it. One of the valet men pulls up with my car almost instantaneously, and I am little surprised when Michael slides into the driver's seat. He fiddles with the temperature controls until warm air starts pouring from the vents, but it makes little difference in the cold air between us.
"What did you and Luke talk about?" He asks gently as he drives.
"A lot of things," I answer. My response is short and irritated, no matter how hard I try to contain it. Michael is quiet the rest of the drive.
When we pull up to the apartment building, he gets out of the car without a word. I follow, pulling his jacket tighter around me. In the back of my mind I realize that he must be freezing without it, but I am still too angry to care.
Michael opens the building door for me, heading straight to the stairs. In these heels I would rather take the elevator, but there is a limit to Michael's newfound chivalry. I walk up the stairs behind him, wondering if he is going to say anything to me. He doesn't.
Michael stands back when he reaches my door, and my mouth races my head again. My mouth wants to invite him in, but my head is going to protect me from whatever will happen if he stays. As I shrug his jacket off of my shoulders, my head wins this time. I hand it back to him with a grim smile, which he takes as his dismissal.
"Goodnight, Kate," he says sadly.
"Night," I answer, closing the door between us. I can feel it, that he is still standing on the other side of the door. I hold my breath, wondering what is going through his mind. After a few moments, I hear a gentle sigh and his retreating footsteps. I let out my breath and rest my head against the cold wood of the door, trying not to cry. Life with Michael went from paradise to a war zone so quickly.
My shoulders slump forward under the weight of my feelings for this infuriating boy. I will have to acknowledge all of those emotions eventually, but tonight I will wallow in self-pity.
Back in my bedroom, I pull a sweater out of my closet and throw it on over a pair of leggings. It is chillier than usual, the transition in which winter gently and slowly settles over Chicago seems to be nonexistent this year. I go the extra mile and make a cup of coffee as well. Caffeine has long since lost its effect on my body; I can drink it at any and all times of the day without it making even the slightest difference.
Minutes after I relax into my couch, a soft knock sounds at the door. My heart leaps into my throat and my hands that are gripping the coffee mug shake uncontrollably. It is him. Of course it is him, it wouldn't be anyone else.
Despite my anger, and the fact that I've only been apart from him for fifteen minutes, I am eager to be in his presence again. I want to know what he will say, if he will still be angry or if he is sorry. I steady myself with a deep breath before I open the door.
