Samantha seemed surprised, though not concerned. When people asked her what was going on, she said she didn’t know. That he was probably worried about something, and didn’t want her butting in. It was natural, after all, for people to have an off day or two. And that was her answer, time and time again, that she would give him his space, if that’s what he wanted. But she knew that it was her fault he was behaving like that.

She had stirred things in him, that he had probably not ever felt before, and she knew it. It had been a bad idea to kiss him so abruptly, to have crossed the line from the ‘friend zone’, to… whatever it was she had set her foot on so hastily. Uncharted territory, no doubt, for both of them.

She handled the issue better than he did, it seemed. She didn’t think it’d been a big deal. It was just a simple, stupid, ‘meaningless’ kiss, after all. Curiosity. Nothing more than curiosity. And the week came and went, and Michael didn’t drop by Samantha’s house to study, and Samantha didn’t bother Michael at home. He needed his own space to meditate on things. His dazed, agitated glare told her as much.

It wasn’t long before she had enough of his aloof behavior, and began to grow more and more concerned. Whenever she hugged him ‘good morning’, whenever she took a ride to school with him in his black BMW X3, at the request of her parents, he grew stiff, and awkward. In the fifteen, maybe twenty-minute ride to school, there was nothing but an awful, uncomfortable silence. It always seemed he was about to say something, but he never did. His mouth would open every now and then, his eyes glaring at her with that unwonted, cold, piercing gaze… but the words never came out. By the end of the week, she had had enough. She would take no more of it.

“What is going on Michael? You’re acting strange, and it’s bothering me.” Silence. Just the sound of the engine, mixed with the low muffled murmuring of David Ault, playing the role of Doctor Who in one of those audio dramas by Darker Projects he liked to listen to. “You’re home, and your dad’s waiting.” He didn’t bother in turning off the car like he usually did after dropping Samantha off from school. He wouldn’t get out, open the door for her, and escort her home. She assumed he wouldn’t be staying for supper either.

“Is this about the other night? Because if it is, you’re acting like a perfect idiot.” He set the car on ‘drive’, and pressed on the breaks. “ I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said, and Samantha grabbed her things, and got out of the car. Her father was waving at Michael, and he was waving back at him, actually smiling. It’d been a while since she’d seen him smile. Not even a fake smile, like the one he seemed to be forcing.

She couldn’t concentrate. Now she was making a big deal out of things. How could she have been so careless? She should’ve asked him first. Wait… what’s going on? Aren’t I the girl? Shouldn’t it be me overreacting? By sunset, she was on her way to his house. Just a couple blocks away. No big deal. No need to take the car.

She knocked on the door, and it was Ana who answered. “ Hey Sam, Mike’s not here. He went out. Soccer practice, or something. He’ll be back in a couple hours, if you want to come over.” She was lying. His car was parked in the driveway, but she didn’t point it out.

“Fine. Tell him I dropped by”

“Will do. Tell Carmilla to call me”

“Bye.”

Ana closed the door, and Samantha resorted to his window. Time to jump the fence, jump over bushes, and climb to the window. She thanked God Michael, too, slept on the ground floor. The window wasn’t locked. Bingo. No way he could get out of talking now.

Samantha slid his bedroom window, and climbed her way into his room. He was barely getting out of the shower, when he shut the bathroom door abruptly upon seeing her. “What the hell are you doing here?” He asked angrily, not expecting her visit after Ana had told her he wasn’t home. And even if she knew she was lying, she should’ve gotten the hint. He didn’t want to see her.

He came out moments later with a towel wrapped around his waist. That was the first time she’d ever seen his shirtless body up close, wasn’t it? She was impressed, but now wasn’t the time to admire his athletic physique. She was there on a mission. A very important, high-priority mission. “ Michael, we need to talk.” He was walking back into the bathroom for a small towel with which to dry his hair and face. She followed, never mind the fact that the boy was soaking wet, and half naked. Was she crazy? What would his parents say if they walked in on them? “Yes. We do. But not now. Go home.”

“…excuse me?” She was incensed. How dare he talk to her like that? The girl had slapped him out of impulse, and forced him to take a seat on the edge of the bed. Moments later a red mark began to appear on his right cheek, but he hadn’t even flinched, in spite of the pain. “Can’t I at least get dressed?” He sat up and looked through his drawers for a change of clothes. Sweats, socks, boxers, and an old, torn up shirt comfortable to sleep in. “Fine.” She lay on his bed, contemplating the ceiling as she waited for him to come out of the bathroom.

It was about time…

“Why have you been acting so damn weirdly?” She asked, brown eyes still fixed on the ceiling, as Michael leaned on the frame of the door, giving the impression he didn’t want to go near her.

“Define ‘weirdly’”

“Don’t answer my question with another question, Michael.” She glared at him, and sighed. The tension emanating from him, almost palpable. “You don’t talk to me. You neglect me. You stiffen up every damn time I hug you. You’re always anxious, and there’s always this horrid awkward feeling. It's been a week already. I’m sick of it. I thought if I left you alone, it would go away, but apparently not. The least you can do is explain why the hell you’ve been acting like this. Why should I have to suffer?” silence when we’re in the same room together, and it’s been going on for over a

Once again his mouth opened as if he was about to say something, but once again, no words came out. “You have something to say, then go ahead and say it, damn it!” She propped herself up from the bed, still enraged at his indifference, and threw a pillow at him out of irritation. Apparently she was making up for his lack of emotion, by blowing her own out of proportion.

“I love you.” He said, finally. Yet, he hadn’t answered the question, and his answer had made no sense. What? She thought he was merely being an idiot. Whether she said it out loud or in her head, she didn’t know. Nevertheless, Michael repeated what he’d just said.

“I love you.”

“Love you, love you, or love you—”

“Love you, love you”

Silence, and then that feeling again. That pleasurable tingling in the pit of her stomach. That light, pleasant swoon. She laid back down on the bed. Shudder.

“I’ve been acting strange because I’ve been trying to figure things out. When you kissed me— I wasn’t going to tell you something I didn’t actually feel. I had to make sure. And I didn’t— I don’t want to ruin our friendship. You saw what happened Denzel and Blair. Seven years of friendship down the drain. I don’t want it to be the same with us.”

Silence. She was speechless. She didn’t know what to say.

“ I didn’t know what to do, or how to react…I talked to my father, I talked to my mother. I talked to your step-mother, Ana and Carmilla. I even discussed matters with your father before he left, when he came over to pick up Carmilla the other day….” He sighed frustrated.

He had to be joking. Was he actually serious? Why hadn’t anyone told her?

“ … but I’m sick of thinking. I’m just wasting my time. I’m just going to put all I’ve got on the table. New York, medical school— our friendship…” He paused, leaving a bit of room for Samantha to say something if she had anything to say, but she was just staring at him, her eyes wide in sheer shock, the way his eyes had been when she’d kissed him during the movie.

“I know for a fact I love you. At first I doubted it, but right now, I’m one hundred percent sure. I love you, and I want to move our relationship to the next level. I want you to be my girlfriend.” He kissed her, and wrapped his arms around her. “I love you, Samantha.”

And just like that, all the tension, all the rage, all the bottled up contempt, and frustration in the room vanished. “Samantha, are you even listening?” No reply. “Blink twice if you—“ She blinked once, then twice. She’d stopped breathing. She didn’t know whether her heart had stopped beating, or it was simply beating too fast. The point was, it hurt. It felt as if someone had given her a blow to the chest, and she was suffocating. She felt it was about to burst at any moment if she made a sudden move, and though she tried to speak, the words wouldn’t come out. No, it wasn’t the words that wouldn’t come out. The words were in the tip of her tongue. It was her voice that refused to make any sound.

Michael grew anxious. “…S-Samantha?” And then it exploded. “Michael Desrochers, you son of a b—…!” She sat up, grabbing him by the throat, pinning him to the bed, almost strangling him. “What the bloody hell were you thinking? Why didn’t you tell me anything?! You behave like an asshole for a week, and you don’t even talk to me, and now you’re asking me to be your girlfriend?” She yelled like a lunatic. She was outraged. Bewildered. Panicking. “And why the hellme?!” would you talk to anyone about this before

Michael tried to explain. He tried to tell her that he needed to make sure he hadn’t been the only one who felt anything when she kissed him, that he needed his father, and her father’s approval before anything could happen. That he needed to make sure of what his intentions were, since he didn’t want to regret his decision, and wound up hurting her. But he couldn’t. She wouldn’t let him talk. His words came out choked and half-said, as she smothered him. She couldn’t make out anything of what he was saying. She wasn’t even listening!

“For Chrissakes, Mike! Lower the volume on your sissy-girl soap operas. I’m trying to concentrate on a reply for Carmilla’s roleplay!” Ana banged on the door, but Samantha wouldn’t cease her yelling. Michael covered Samantha’s mouth, and without the littlest effort, pinned her down on the bed. She was kicking, and screaming under the crushing weight of his body, and he didn’t get off, until she calmed down. Never in his life had he seen a woman react that way. He was frightened, to say the least. Shocked, even.