So the Season's Changed Your Face

Mike was never one to express his feelings vocally – he generally let his actions do all of the talking. He was breathing heavily, his outburst thoroughly exhausting him. He must have felt so vulnerable and so incredibly exposed.

And I, one who never failed to have the right words to say, was speechless. My heart was pounding in my chest and my blood was rushing in my ears. I wanted to tell him I felt the same way, and I wanted to tell him that I wanted him too, but I couldn’t make my mouth move. My throat was dry and my head was spinning.

After months of worrying and fretting and crying, I had finally gotten exactly what I wanted – Mike – but now that my fantasy was at last a reality, I couldn’t do a damn thing.

I would have taken him right then and there in that parking lot if I had been able to move my feet.

Mike must have taken my silence as a bad thing, because he began to pace again, muttering under his breath. Something about “I shouldn’t have said anything” and “I’m such an idiot”.

He stopped pacing, opened his mouth to say something, shook his head, and began to walk off in the direction of Elbo Room, supposedly to help his bandmates load up their stuff. He walked past me in a huff, still murmuring to himself.

I grabbed him by the wrist, finally able to shake myself out of my trance. “Mike, wait.”

He turned around. “I don’t have time for you to tell me that you think we should just be friends, if you don’t mind. I need to help the guys load out.”

“Mike,” I said, exasperated, knowing I had one chance to say the right thing or risk losing him. “I don’t – I just – oh, fuck it.”

I stood on my toes and placed my lips on his, taking in his scent, his taste, the very feel of his lips on mine. One of my hands quickly found his neck and my fingers crept up into his hair. Before I knew it, his tongue was in my mouth and mine in his; his hands pushing the small of my back, forcing my hips to press against his.

Our teeth bumped and I giggled and pulled away from him, though he maintained a firm hold on my hips, not letting me get to far. I looked up into his glass-green eyes, the eyes that had so mesmerized me the first time we met. “Are you going to run away from me this time?” I asked, smirking.

“Not a chance in hell,” he said, and he reconnected our lips and kissed me like we had been doing this for years.

While Mike ran his hands all over me and while our tongues danced in and out of each other’s mouths, I briefly wondered why I hadn’t initiated some form of physical contact with him earlier. He was a really good kisser; I could feel his kisses down in my knees. For a split second, I tried to figure out how he had gotten so good, but I couldn’t really focus on the subject for too long.

Even though I knew that we would eventually have to part, seeing as Mike still had to pack up his gear and my car was a quarter of a mile away, I couldn’t stop kissing him. At first I thought it was a bit weird – kissing my best friend, that is – but then I found I didn’t care and that it really wasn’t that weird.

And once I got over that, I had no problem with the fact that I was pushed up against his dusty car and could feel a bulge between his thighs.

“Vivi?” Mike asked as he made his way from my lips to my neck.

“Mmm?” I responded, and it was half way between a moan and a question.

“Do you want,” he started, and he nibbled on my earlobe. In a husky whisper, he finished, “To get dinner?”

I nodded, unable to open my mouth without moaning, and I clutched at the bottom of his tee shirt, just for something to hang onto. He sucked on a spot just below my earlobe and I lost complete control of myself. I moaned loudly and arched my back, my hips bucking into his.

“Mike,” I finally said, completely out of breath and pushing him away gently. “We gotta stop.”

“You’re right,” Mike said, catching his breath. “You’re right.”

“I mean, you still need to get your guitar,” I continued, though I wished we could have stayed in that deserted parking lot, pressed up against his car. I wanted him desperately. “The guys are probably wondering where you’ve gone.”

Our bodies were still very close and I could feel heat radiating off of him. I sidled sideways and stood a few feet away from him, ensuring that I would not start kissing him again.

“Yeah,” Mike said, absently. “Just…just give me a minute.” And I knew at once what he was referring to when a blush crept up his neck and he turned away from me.


By the time Mike had loaded his guitar into his backseat, it was nearing nine o’clock. We had decided on IHOP, seeing as I really wanted some pancakes and Mike was in the mood for some greasy home fries.

I ordered a milkshake, and per usual, Mike drank half of it. He also had one of my pancakes, but that was only because I was too full to finish the stack myself.

I am pleased to report that this meal was no different from the others we had shared over the past three years. Perhaps this whole “dating” thing wouldn’t be so different. Maybe it will be just like being friends…but with more making out and more dates and more commitment. I think I can handle that.

It was ten-thirty when Mike finally dropped me off at my car. Reluctantly, I got out of the car and said goodbye. I was unlocking the car door when Mike rolled down his window.

“Wait, I need to give you my cell phone number,” he said, beckoning me to come back.

“I don’t have anywhere to write it down,” I told him. “Just call me tomorrow and give it to me then.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you sooner,” he apologized. “I really was going to, I just-”

“I know, Mike,” I said, cutting him off with a smile. “I know.”

I kissed him and said goodbye. “You do realize you’re obligated to call me tomorrow, right?” I joked as I backed away from his car. “Being my boyfriend is going to be a completely different game.”

Mike shrugged. “Eh, I think I can manage.”