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Mike kills the engine, leaving him in silence. He doesn’t get up, not yet, deciding to sit in the quiet for a moment longer. He thinks of Abby, probably sitting in a classroom, looking out the window right now. Vanessa crosses his mind, too, and he wonders how she’s doing, where she is. When he’d left last night, Vanessa was in his house, her mouth open, shocked and upset at his hostility. He regretted it all, wished he could take it back, but he can’t.
With a heavy sigh, he steps out of the car, his knees cracking as he stands. Mike groans, pulling his keys out of his pocket, and walks to the front door. The key slides in easily and he pushes the door open, eyebrows raising in surprise when it stops suddenly. His eyes move to the floor and his breath catches in his throat.
Vanessa is sprawled out on the tile, her boot the thing that stopped the door. He shuts it, then immediately kneels down in front of her, shaking fingers clumsily feeling for a pulse. A breath of relief leaves his lips at the feeling of her faint heartbeat, and he moves his hand to her cheek, patting softly.
“Vanessa?” he says, keeping his voice low to not startle her. She doesn’t move or react, no change in her breathing or fluttering of eyelids. He calls her name again, his other hand shaking her shoulder a little. The concern that had crept in seeing her on the floor increases tenfold; she’s not normally a heavy sleeper, even taking her medicine, she still wakes relatively easily. Now, though, Vanessa seems nearly unconscious. After another minute of this, saying her name, unable to conceal his alarm, rubbing her shoulder, patting her cheek, and a final pawing at her warm neck to reassure himself that she’s actually alive, her breathing changes and her body shifts.
“—nessa?”
“Huh?” she mumbles, finally blinking, clearly struggling to open her eyes. Mike can’t hide his relief.
“Hey, it’s me, Mike,” he says, voice soft. “Can you wake up?”
She groans, a quiet noise in her throat. Her hand, Mike notices, trembles as it comes up to rub her eyes. “Mike?”
Her confusion scares him, and the doorknob behind him rattling scares him further. He maneuvers himself and Vanessa out of the way of the door as Abby bursts through. She drops her backpack and before she can even speak, Mike shoos her away, not sure if Vanessa is… herself, or how the conversation is going to go, if she’s even able to have one.
Abby, with one last lingering look at Vanessa, stomps away toward the kitchen to have a snack before she starts her homework. Mike, with Vanessa’s slight nod of permission, helps her sit up. Her eyes are normal, not milky white, just tired and glazed. Her responses are short, and Mike can’t gauge what exactly is wrong with her.
“Can you take me home?” her voice comes out small, a little hoarse before she clears her throat softly. His apprehension is obvious in his face and his tone when he speaks. He doesn’t love the idea of her being alone, for her safety and health, and says so.
“Take me home, Mike.” Vanessa says, no longer asking tentatively, but a curt demand. “I can take care of myself.”
It scares him, and he actually hates the thought of her, alone in that big, dark house when she was just passed out on his floor. Considering their last conversation, though, he knows he has no right to deny her that, knows he’s probably the last person she wants to be around right now. So, he gives up, lets his head hang in defeat for a moment before nodding and helping her to her feet. He calls to Abby that he’ll be back soon, to not open the door to anyone.
Vanessa stumbles, unsteady, and he quickly supports her with an arm around her waist. It lingers for a moment before she gives him a sharp look and he lets it fall back at his side, useless. He opens the door and she steps out first, the gray sky from earlier has now begun sprinkling rain, cool droplets misting his face as he walks to the car. Mike opens the passenger door for her and she gives a small, tight smile, murmuring thanks as he shuts the door.
The drive to her home is quiet, the radio playing only above a whisper, and is nearly drowned out by the increasingly heavy rainfall. He pulls up to the curb and offers to walk her to the door, but Vanessa politely declines, saying she’ll be fine. He nods, agreeing, because of course she’ll be fine.
He watches her walk up the front porch steps and once she’s inside with the door shut behind her, he pulls off and drives away. The entire way home, she’s in his thoughts, all-consuming, and he wishes, not for the first time, that he never told her to leave them alone, that she wasn’t to be trusted. The awkward, tense silence that hung between them stung, and it felt worse to know that it was completely his fault.
By the time Mike pulls back into the driveway, it’s fucking pouring, thunder clapping loudly overhead. He runs to the front door and manages to get only a little soaked. Abby’s curled up on the couch, the TV playing quietly, and she looks up when the door opens and gives him a lazy smile. He locks it behind him, discarding his wet coat on the hook.
“Hey, Abs,” he says, kicking off his shoes.
“Hi,” she sits up a little, then notices he’s alone. “Vanessa left?”
“Yeah,” he says with a sad smile. “She… had to go.”
Abby frowns. “I didn’t even get to say bye.”
Mike mirrors her frown guiltily. “Sorry, Abs. She—”
Abby’s face quickly sharpens, her irritation obvious. “Mike,” she cuts him off. “Why don’t you tell her you’re sorry?”
He falters, speechless, then makes his way to the couch and sits beside her. “It’s.. not that easy.”
She throws her hands up frustratedly, seeming so exasperated by this grown-up business. “It is! She’d still be with us if you said sorry.”
“Abby—” he sighs, rubs his face roughly. “Come on. Can we not do this now?”
She sighs too, her small shoulders slumping in defeat. “I miss her. She was my friend.” Her voice is quiet, all of her previous anger faded into sadness.
Fuck, that hits him hard. “I know… I’m sorry.” It feels stale on his tongue. He spends half his time fucking up and the other half apologizing for it.
She folds her arms and shifts her attention back to the TV. “You should say that to her, Mike. Not me.”
“Alright,” he stands up, patting her on the head. “Dinner? What sounds good?”
Abby rolls her eyes with so much sass that Mike would laugh if it wouldn’t piss her off more. “You always do that.”
“Do what?” Mike smirks, walking away. “Make you dinner?”
“No. Change the subject when you don’t want to talk about something.”
He stops in the doorway to the kitchen, a sudden wave of pride rushing over him. She’s so smart, incredibly observant, and he doesn’t give her enough credit. Because he knows it’s his fault, Mike genuinely can’t have this conversation right now. He knows he overreacted, lashed out at Vanessa, but it was to keep Abby safe, and she can’t understand that now. So, he hopes to avoid this conversation until she can. He knows his sister, though, and she won’t let it go without some kind of explanation.
“I know…” Mike turns back toward his sister on the couch. “It’s just…. grown-up stuff, you know?”
Abby scowls, probably tired of hearing that excuse, thinks eleven is basically an adult, but doesn’t interrupt him.
“Vanessa and I… we’ll work it out, okay? Promise.”
It takes him nearly two hours to make dinner. Despite having years of guardianship under his belt, he still hasn’t mastered the skill of quickly throwing something together. Mike thinks that it’s more important Abby gets a relatively balanced meal, though. His idea of this, tonight, is chicken, some rice that he’d definitely undercooked, and some sad vegetables he’d steamed in the microwave.
He calls to Abby from the kitchen, tells her it’s time to eat, but no response comes. He thinks she’s still pouting about Vanessa, so with a quick eye-roll, he moves to the living room and finds his sister curled up on the couch, fast asleep. The TV still plays, soft voices fading into the background as it continues at a low volume. He gently wakes her up and repeats that it’s time for dinner. She rubs her eyes and sighs, then follows him to the table.
Abby sits, plopping roughly into the seat. She pokes at the steamed broccoli with her fork, her face failing to conceal the disgust she’s feeling. Mike bites back a smile, shoving a forkful of rice into his mouth.
“Eat your vegetables, Abs. Unless you want to stay that tall forever.”
She scoffs, but it earns him a smile. “I’m almost taller than you!” Abby retorts with a laugh. “I think you need them more than me.”
They eat in silence for a few minutes before there’s a soft knock at the front door. It’s almost inaudible over the rain, but a moment passes before the knock resumes, a bit harder in force. Mike’s stomach drops, trying to decide who would be knocking on his door at seven PM in the middle of a thunderstorm. His mind reels with possibilities, worst-case scenarios playing in his mind. He looks back to Abby as he moves to the door, briefly coming up with an escape plan if needed.
Through the peephole, Mike can see a figure, and his stomach sinks further. On his porch is a woman, her blonde hair so wet it looks brown, sticking to and obscuring her face, but he knows in his bones that it’s Vanessa. He can hear the rain coming down sideways, the sound of the wind whipping pierces through the hardwood. Quickly, he unlocks the deadbolt and throws the door open. Just as he suspected, standing in front of him is Vanessa, trembling, and he can’t tell if she’s crying or just completely soaked from the rain.
“Vanessa?” He says, dumbfounded to see her here. She’d demanded to be taken home hours ago, yet here she stands, drenched, shaking.
Her teeth are chattering so much that she can barely speak, but Mike hears her shudder his name between ragged breaths. Shock is still very present in his system, his mouth open as he stares at her, taking all of her in. Her jacket seems to have failed to keep her warm or dry, the wet denim of her jeans clinging to her legs. Even her boots seem to be flooded. There’s a definite lack of elemental protection in her wardrobe; she’s got no hood on, no umbrella, and no sense, it seems. He wonders how she got here, why she’s here— Thunder strikes loudly, Vanessa visibly startling, flinching hard. He does the same, the deafening sound ripping him from his daze, brutally bringing him back to reality.
“Vanessa— fuck, are you insane?” Mike speaks too quickly, words clumsily tumbling out as he lays a hand on her back and guides her inside. “It’s freezing.”
She says nothing, just lets him, flinches softly when he closes the door. The lock slides into place with a click and Mike looks down to see a puddle already beginning to form under her feet. She’s shivering hard, nearly convulsing with how cold she is, and he starts to paw at her sweater. “God,” he murmurs, and he can’t hide his worry, “did you walk here?” His fingers linger at the hem of her jacket, pausing before lifting the material up, waiting for her permission. “We need to get you out of these.”
Vanessa nods, a soft confirmation, before trying to help him peel the clinging wet sweater off of her body. He does, tosses it to the floor and it lands with a heavy squelch. Then, he turns toward the dinner table to check on Abby, who is no longer seated and picking at her food. Before he can even panic, she reappears at his side, her arms full with a stack of towels, including her own personal favorite— a fluffy, warm pink one. His heart soars, and he smiles, beaming with pride at how fucking awesome this kid is. Man, he’s good! He takes the towels from her and ruffles her hair with his free hand.
She lingers, looking exceptionally concerned for her second favorite adult in her life. “Vanessa?” she says, her voice timid.
“Hey,” Vanessa smiles, aiming for polite, but it comes across as a grimace. Her jaw is clenched tightly to keep her teeth from chattering audibly.
Abby doesn’t mind though, she smiles radiantly, quickly moving past Mike to throw her arms around Vanessa. “I missed you so much,” she whispers against her wet shirt.
Vanessa, still drenched, dripping onto the tile, hugs her lightly, definitely trying to not get her clothes soaked too. “Abby,” she murmurs fondly, rubs a cold hand over the little girl’s back. “I missed you, too.”
“Alright,” Mike lays a hand on Abby’s shoulder and gives her a pat, feeling rude to interrupt, but not wanting her to also be cold and wet. “I don’t need both of you in wet clothes, Abs.”
Abby pulls away, her light pink sweater a little dark where it met Vanessa’s shirt, but she’s otherwise dry and actually listens to Mike’s instruction to go sit and finish her dinner. Out of her hoodie, Vanessa stands there shaking in a thin gray shirt, dark patches splotched across the fabric from where the rain had soaked through. Her jeans look uncomfortably wet, still clinging to her legs like a second skin. He hands her a towel, though he’s not sure how much it will be of use, and drops to a knee. In other circumstances, it would be romantic, but for now, he busies himself with removing her wet boots despite her breathless protests between chattering teeth.
Now out of her shoes, a little less drippy, Mike beckons her to follow him down the hallway and they walk together into his bathroom. He turns away from her and cranks the shower on, dragging the handle over to hot. The water flows and he faces Vanessa, who’s still shaking, cold and pale, but her lips are a shade less blue.
“Gonna let that heat up for a second,” he mumbles, casting his eyes downwards as he turns to leave. “I’ll get you some clothes.”
“Mike?” Vanessa calls quietly, ice-cold fingers grasping at his wrist. He turns, brown eyes so full of concern, and takes her hand in his. She suddenly feels much warmer, blush threatening to shine through the pallor of her cheeks. “Thanks… for, um… taking me in.”
“Yeah.” He nods, swallowing to keep himself from confessing that he’d never turn her away again, and he’s sorry for being an idiot. Instead, he clears his throat and squeezes her hand. “You could’ve called. I would’ve picked you up.”
Now it’s Vanessa who looks away, looking at the grout between the tile. She sighs softly, shifting her weight, debating what to say. She’s kind of angry at him, but she’s more hurt than anything else. How could he tell her to stay away, discard her like she meant nothing to him? All of the shit they’d been through together, all of the late nights, their long conversations. Had that meant nothing? She asked him to take her home because she didn’t want to even look at him, give him the chance to reject her and push her away again. Yet here she is, standing in his bathroom, soaked from the long walk to his house in the pouring rain because she couldn’t stand to be alone.
He’s still looking at her, his eyes searching her face, and she looks up to meet them. His lips curve upwards, a shy smile. “Alright,” he lets go of her hand and she shivers. “I’ll be right back.”
He returns quickly, finding that she hadn’t moved at all, with clothes fresh out of the dryer. Luckily, he had been doing laundry earlier. He sets a warm towel down on the counter and rests the clothes on top— his warmest flannel pajama pants, a long sleeve shirt and socks. He wasn’t sure if it was weird to give her boxers to wear, but it wasn’t like he had women’s underwear lying around, so he places them in the pile anyway.
“Mike,” Vanessa murmurs, smiling faintly. “Thank you.”
“Yeah,” he returns her smile. “We’ll talk later. Get warm first.”
Closing the bathroom door, he retreats back to the kitchen and looks up to see Abby. She’s smirking at him as she clears her plate into the trash. He thinks it’s because she didn’t eat more than a few pieces of broccoli, but knows better.
“What?” he asks, trying to keep his face and voice neutral.
“Nothing,” she smiles. It’s unconvincing. “I’m just happy Vanessa’s here.”
“Yeah…” he sighs, rubs a hand over his tired face. “Me too.”
“Did you talk to her?” Abby asks, “tell her you’re sorry?”
He gives her a flat look, his lips a thin line. “Now you can do the dishes.”
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With the power of teamwork, Mike and Abby have the kitchen cleaned in twenty minutes. He puts on his coat to take the trash out, and when he comes back inside, Vanessa and Abby are huddled up at the counter. They’re hugging, and he can see Vanessa’s still shaking a little from across the room, though she’s probably trying to hide it. They pull apart and he sees the pink tint on her cheeks, likely from the hot water. His stomach flutters at the sight of her in his clothes, the flannel pants hugging her hips and thighs perfectly, his shirt loose on her, collarbone peeking from above the neckline. She’s effortlessly beautiful, he can’t help but stare. Then, he looks at Abby, sporting a knowing smirk, catching him gawking at Vanessa. Ever the little wingman, Abby fakes a yawn and declares she’s off to brush her teeth, leaving the adults alone in the kitchen.
“Hey,” Mike smiles, moving past her to wash his hands. “How was your shower?”
“Good,” she says, “warm.” It’s only a little awkward. “Thanks for the clothes.”
“No problem…” he nods, as does she. There’s a beat of silence until they both talk at once, clumsily speaking over each other. Vanessa insists Mike goes first, so, he swallows his pride and his nerves.
“What I said last night…” he scratches the back of his neck, eyes fixed on the floor between them, shameful. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Really?” It comes out without her permission, the need for reassurance, to confirm that he’s serious.
“Yeah,” Mike looks back up at her, and for a second, she thinks she sees unshed tears shining in his eyes, but writes it off as a trick of the light. Vanessa’s features soften, her lips parting to reply, but he continues. “I’m sorry, Vanessa.”
“It’s okay,” she blurts out, “I forgive you. I’m sorry, too,” she breathes, the pressure in her chest lessening with every word, “for everything.”
She wants to hug him, aching, almost, to be close to him, now wishing internally that their dynamic was different. A greater woman might confess how she felt, but Vanessa doesn’t. She doesn’t dare move, not one step, fear of his rejection paralyzing her. Mike blinks hard, taking a hesitant step toward her. When she doesn’t recoil in disgust, flinch away like a wounded animal, he closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around her. He does it carefully, like she’s fragile, delicate, and Vanessa relaxes instantly. The tension in her body, around them, dissolves, and she takes a deep breath against his shirt, inhaling his scent.
Abby peeks her head from the hallway, watching with a proud smile. She’d been eavesdropping, listening to their entire conversation, and she felt giddy, so relieved and excited that they’d made up, that Vanessa will be in their lives again. Tears burn Vanessa’s eyes, stinging. His apology, this whole interaction, means so much to her. Mike and Abby are all she has left now, and she can’t, won’t, lose them. This one conversation won’t fix everything, but it’s certainly a start.
She pulls away but Mike’s arms stay around her back, keeping her close. “I really am sorry.”
“I know,” she murmurs, setting a hand on his chest. “Me too.”
His lip curls into a half-smile. “Are you hungry? I made dinner earlier.”
She hums softly, debating. She doesn’t feel particularly hungry, the stress of their situation had her stomach in knots, but she hasn’t eaten and knows she should… “Sure,” Vanessa smiles. “Thanks.”
Mike tells her to sit and reheats a plate for her, bringing a glass of water and a napkin along. Abby comes back, showered and in clean pajamas, and joins them at the table. Mike, now in a great mood, even lets her have ice cream. There’s small talk between small bites, and a warm, unfamiliar feeling settles in Mike’s chest. The domesticity of it all; a familial feeling that he hasn’t had in a long time washes over him. Maybe everything will be okay.
Abby talks about school, her day, how she thinks she’ll be having an easier time making friends. Vanessa smiles as she tells her how proud she is. They clean up, all three of them, and Mike and Vanessa tuck Abby into her bed. Abby asks if Vanessa will read her a chapter from the book she’s been reading, pleading with big eyes that nobody can deny.
Mike showers as Vanessa reads, and Abby falls asleep with a faint smile, the soft, steady voice of Vanessa lulling her to sleep. She nearly falls asleep in the chair beside Abby’s bed, but Mike comes in to check on her, a gentle hand on her shoulder. He nods his head toward the door and with one last look at Abby sleeping peacefully, Vanessa shuts the bedroom door behind her.
“Hey,” she says, her voice light and fond. “We’re matching.”
Mike’s eyebrow lifts, then he looks down and laughs softly. He didn’t realize he’d put on the exact same pair of pants he’d given her earlier and was wearing the same long sleeve shirt. If he found something he liked, he would buy multiple pairs of it and wear it every day. “Well,” he smirks, “one of us has to change.”
Vanessa laughs, a melodic sound that Mike will never tire of hearing. “But,” he continues, “it looks way better on you.”
“Mike!” she exclaims, cheeks flushing. “Was that… a compliment?”
He laughs, too, his own cheeks matching her faint blush. “Maybe,” he murmurs, casting his eyes to the clock on the wall. “Do you wanna… watch a movie or something? Or we can go to bed, if you’re tired. I mean—” he fumbles his words, not meaning the implication of ‘we’ as it came out.
“Dinner and a movie,” Vanessa interrupts his floundering with a smirk. “Sounds nice.”
Despite his embarrassment, Mike sits on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Vanessa sits beside him, their shoulders brushing as she relaxes further, sinking back into the sofa. She doesn’t care what movie, and he doesn’t either, truthfully; he just wants to spend time with her, wants this night to last. The movie begins but Mike’s attention lies solely on the woman beside him. He watches the screen for a few moments before his eyes drift back to her. She’s beautiful, his hand twitching as he fights the urge to run his fingers through that soft blonde hair. After what is probably half a dozen lingering glances, she looks over with a slightly raised eyebrow. He smiles shyly, knows he’s been caught, but she says nothing.
A few minutes pass and Mike struggles, but manages, to keep his gaze trained on the screen. Vanessa shifts, her shoulder bumping against Mike’s, then rests her head on his shoulder. He tries not to stiffen beneath her, and takes a deep breath before wrapping his arm around her, bringing her closer. She hums softly, warm against his side, and he can smell her sweet, clean scent, shampoo and his laundry detergent. He exhales contentedly, wishing they could stay right here forever.
The movie continues playing, and Mike finds himself lost in the plot, his eyelids starting to feel heavy. He bites back a yawn. Vanessa hasn’t moved once since she curled into his side and he’s not sure if she’s awake or not. “ ‘Nessa, ” he mumbles, slurred with drowsiness.
She’s definitely asleep, or doing a damn good job at pretending, as she doesn’t move or respond. He shifts, finally rousing her, and she moves slightly, a soft groan coming from her as she does.
“Sorry,” she sits up and looks at Mike sheepishly. “Guess I can’t hang…”
“It’s okay,” he reassures her with a soft smile. “You can take the bed, I’ll sleep out here.”
She shakes her head, immediately rejecting the idea. “Mike, I can’t—”
“No, it’s okay,” he promises. “I want you to—”
They continue speaking over each other for a moment before she sighs softly. “We’ll be doing this all night. Come on.” She stands, offering her hand and he accepts. Her hand stays in his as she leads him to his bedroom. Inside, he still insists she take the bed, so hesitant and scared to mess things up, say the wrong thing. Vanessa sits on the bed, her eyes a little shiny, and his heart drops, terrified he’d done something to upset her.
“I don’t want to be alone, Mike.” She confesses quietly, scared how honest she’s being, scared of the consequences that could come from this truth.
Mike sits beside her, putting a hand on her arm. “Hey, it’s okay,” he tries to be comforting, hopes it works. “I’ll.. I’ll stay with you.”
She swallows, feeling nauseated from nerves of her admission, how she’d just laid her heart out to him. His kind reaction made her feel nervous, too. They share a smile, eyes locking until Mike pulls back the comforter and motions for her to lay down. It’s awkward at first, obvious in the way they both lay stiff, rigid. Neither wants to cross that invisible line, chase the other away again. Mike has his arms over his chest, hands clasped together like a sickly Victorian child, and when he chances a glance at Vanessa, she’s in a similar pose. He hears her take a careful breath, then shifts onto her side, looking at him. Feeling brave, he does the same, and even in the dark, she is absolutely beautiful. His eyes flick to her lips as she inhales, her voice soft.
“Good night, Mike.”
“Night.”
His eyes close, and he drifts off to sleep.
He can hear something, a soft forced whisper. Mike blinks, and he knows he hasn’t been asleep for very long, feels it in the way sleep clings to his eyelids, tugging them back down.
“Mike,” she repeats for the third time, voice still sleep-slurred.
There’s a pinch between her eyebrows, she’s murmuring his name, fretting quietly in her sleep. She’s also a lot closer than she was when they fell asleep, her head nearly on his pillow, just inches between their faces. He, in this soft, sleepy haze, doesn’t think twice about tucking a chunk of hair behind her ear that was obscuring her eyes. He brushes the back of his fingers against her cheek, the lightest of fleeting touch.
Suddenly, the spell is broken; there’s a change in her breathing as he pulls his hand away, her eyes opening and immediately widening. Within seconds, she’s pulling away, apologizing and blushing so hard, he can see it in the darkness of the room.
“It’s okay,” Mike whispers. “I didn’t know you talk in your sleep.”
Her hands come up to hide her face. “Oh, God,” her voice muffled by her hands, mortified. “Did I… say something stupid?”
He smiles, and she peeks through her fingers at his silence. Is he smirking? “You just said my name, is all.”
Vanessa hides again, her hands acting as a shield, protecting her from the embarrassment of dealing with this. “Fuck,” she whispers. “Sorry.”
His smile doesn’t waver. He almost seems to be taking pleasure in her reaction. “Did you… wanna talk about something?”
“Umm.. no, thanks, Mike.” She lowers her hands and her eyes, hoping he will stop looking at her with those big, brown eyes full of kindness, a little mischief. “Let’s just… go back to sleep.”
There’s another pause, Vanessa feels like she might choke on the thick, awkward atmosphere. Her hand anxiously fidgets under the sheets. Mike gently lays a hand over hers, stopping the nervous movement. He breathes, so quietly, so scared to break the moment, shatter this dream and be left in the remnants of this fantasy.
“Mike,” she murmurs, and he swears she’s blushing again. “Can…”
“Yeah?”
Her lip’s bitten between her teeth, and his tongue darts out to wet his own.
“Can you, like…?” she trails off again, he can see the quickening pace in her breathing.
“What is it?” he whispers, he doesn’t want to pry, force an answer out of her and frustrate her, but she’s obviously a little nervous, apprehensive to vocalize what she wants. He hopes with a little probing, it will come out. Though, something in his head tells him he knows what she’s after.
“Can I what, Ness?” The name slips off his tongue easily. She notices, blinking in surprise, then with a sudden brazenness, she inches closer, their faces so close. He can feel her nervous exhale on his cheek.
“Mike,” she breathes, putting her hand on the side of his face. “You make me do everything.”
That’s all he needed to finally put his lips to hers. He’s been dreaming of this moment, how she would taste, if her lips were as soft as they always looked. He can feel her smiling for the first minute, unable to keep his own lips from tilting upwards. The kiss is tentative, for a time, then switches on a dime as Mike’s arms snake around her and pull her on top of him. Open-mouthed, tongues meeting in tandem, his fingers tangle themselves in her hair. They break away, both panting softly. Vanessa laughs, breathless, a sweet sound that crawls into a hollow spot in Mike’s chest. He laughs, too, the awkward tension before long bled out. He didn’t know if they were kissing for five minutes or twenty.
She confesses, after catching her breath, that she only wanted to cuddle. After seeing that stupid look on his face, watching his eyes watch her mouth hungrily, she couldn’t help herself from kissing him. There’s nothing hesitant in the way he holds her now, nor in the kiss he plants on the top of her head. In his arms, Vanessa feels safe, relaxed, sighing softly as his hand begins to run up and down her back. She can feel herself starting to fall asleep, knows that this time, it will be a long, peaceful one.