"Let's cook something real tonight," Michael suggests as we drive back to the apartment building. The heavy mood from the corner sidewalk has dissipated, the air between us light and warm again.
"What, my frozen stir-fry wasn't good enough for you?" I ask.
"No, it was great," he laughs. "I just think we can do something better from scratch."
"Okay," I agree.
As we walk up the apartment stairwell, Michael pauses outside the exit door for my floor. "I'm going to grab some ingredients," he points to the next floor up. "I'll be down in a minute."
As I unlock my apartment door, I wonder why we can't just go to his apartment. Is there a reason, or am I reading too much into it? I leave the door behind me slightly ajar since Michael will be coming back in a minute. I walk through the apartment, flicking on lights and adjusting thermostats. It is so cold.
I walk into my room, immediately pulling my shirt over my head to replace it with a sweatshirt. I walk to the closet and throw today's shirt on the floor carelessly. Just as I reach out to grab one of my thicker sweaters, two arms lock around me from behind, clamping a hand over my mouth.
I thrash wildly, trying to wriggle free, but the grip is too tight, too powerful. Suddenly, all at once, I am released. The arms around me slacken and I turn around wildly, only for my gaze to be met with the softest green, the most familiar color.
"Michael!" I practically shout. "What the fuck?"
"You left the goddamn apartment door open, Kate! Do you see now how easy it would be for someone to come in here and hurt you? You know that there are people who would."
"Are you serious?" I breathe. "You scared the living shit out of me so you could prove a point?"
"I didn't mean to scare you," Michael mumbles.
"Yes you did! That's exactly what you meant to do!"
"I just want you to understand!" He says, frustrated. "Why don't you understand? I can't go around all the time worrying that you're not safe. It's bad enough that you forget to lock the door, but leaving it open? Don't be stupid!"
"I left it open because you were coming right back!" I argue. But he is right, I should not take risks like that. He looks at me sternly and I wilt a little under his gaze. "Okay, fine," I sigh. "I'm sorry. You're right."
"I know I am," he grumbles, looking away. There is tense silence before he pulls me to his chest. "I'm sorry I called you stupid," he mumbles into my hair. I kiss his collarbone and then move up his neck until I find his lips. As he kisses me gently, I suddenly remember that I am still wearing only a bra and jeans, all too aware of the feeling of his hands against my bare back.
Michael's hands slide down my skin and come to a rest on my waist, gripping me and pulling me closer. We mold into each other so perfectly, my hands exploring his broad shoulders. Suddenly Michael surfaces and moves his lips to my neck; I can barely control my erratic breathing as his lips ghost over the skin there. My hands tangle in his hair and he brings his face back to mine, reattaching our lips.
Michael pulls away, resting his forehead against mine as we both try to catch our breaths. "You're so hot," he mumbles, snapping the material of my bra strap against my skin.
I laugh breathlessly. "So are you." Michael rolls his eyes and reaches behind me, pulling a sweater down from its hanger. He rolls it up and holds it out to me, and pulling it down over my head and helping me get my arms through.
"Cover yourself, woman," he says with a smirk. "You're distracting me."
"Well I wasn't exactly expecting you to come in here," I say pointedly. Suddenly Michael's hands slide under my shirt, traveling up the skin of my back.
