Dinner at Lila and Sam’s place. The lighting is warm, the kitchen smells like rosemary and garlic, and the air is light with laughter—not performative, but earned.
Lila (smirking):
“So when are you two finally gonna stay put for more than twenty minutes? Last time you vanished mid-dessert.”
You (eyes wide, feigning innocence):
“Lila, how dare you accuse me of such scandalous behavior in front of the baked potatoes.”
Sam:
“They’re herb-crusted, thank you very much.”
Michael (mouth full, eyes locked on you):
“Actually, I’d like to file a formal complaint.”
You:
“Oh really? About what?”
Michael (wiping his mouth, playfully dramatic):
“About being repeatedly dragged away from innocent social functions by a woman who has no sense of public decency and insists on making out like we’re sixteen behind every available door.”
You (tilting your head, smug):
“Well, maybe if you didn’t kiss like revelation, I’d leave you alone.”
Sam (groaning):
“Oh god. You two are disgusting.”
Lila (laughing):
“No, let them be. This is what happens when people don’t settle. They live.”
Michael (leaning into you):
“Speaking of not settling…”
You feel his hand brush yours under the table. No words exchanged, but the signal’s sent.
You (quietly, lips barely moving):
“Back door?”
Michael:
“Same thought.”
You both casually excuse yourselves. Lila and Sam glance at each other, resigned to the routine.
Lila:
“Ten minutes. I’m timing it.”
Sam:
“They’ll forget we exist.”
Cut to
The back garden. Quiet. Cool air. No one around. Michael pulls you into him instantly. No hesitation. You both dissolve into each other like it’s been weeks instead of hours.
Michael (breathless):
“You know you’ve completely ruined me, right?”
You (whispering into his ear):
“Just getting started.”
He kisses you again—this time longer, deeper. The kind of kiss that says I waited lifetimes for this.
Michael:
“I don’t even remember what we were talking about at dinner.”
You (pulling back just a little):
“Something about herb-crusted something.”
Michael:
“Right. Potatoes. Completely unimportant.”
You rest your forehead against his. Everything stills.
Michael:
“This. This is the only real thing I’ve ever known.”
You:
“Then stay right here. Forever.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just holds you tighter.
Back at the Table — or, more accurately, the Walk of Shameless Return
You and Michael walk back into Lila and Sam’s dining room like nothing happened, except everything about you two screams something happened—hair tousled, clothes just slightly wrinkled, lips a little too flushed, and that subtle glow that only shows up after someone’s been kissed like the world was ending and you stopped it with your mouth.
Lila (arms crossed, leaning on the kitchen counter):
“Twelve minutes.”
Sam (nodding, unimpressed):
“You had one job. One. Sit. And chew.”
Michael (completely unfazed):
“We chewed.”
You (plopping into your chair):
“Technically, we’re still chewing. Just… different flavors of life.”
Sam (groaning into his cup):
“Okay, I’m moving to the kids’ table.”
Lila (deadpan):
“There is no kids’ table, Sam.”
Michael (leaning over to whisper):
“You know we’re on borrowed time, right?”
You (resting your hand over his, still glowing):
“Borrowed? No. I steal time.”
Michael:
“That’s why you’re lethal.”
Lila:
“Are you two writing poetry across the table right now?”
You (smiling):
“Only if it makes you uncomfortable.”
Sam (throwing his napkin down):
“I miss when you were sad and emotionally repressed.”
Michael:
“Get in line.”
Everyone laughs—and not the fake kind. The kind that stretches your chest open and lets light in. The kind you only earn after being buried for years and finally rising with your crown intact.
Michael (low voice, only to you):
“You’re gonna do this to me forever, huh?”
You:
“Define ‘this.’”
Michael:
“Ruin every gathering. Drag me behind every wall. Kiss me like we just met. Talk to me like I’m the only soul that made it through the fire with you.”
You (turning your head slowly to look at him):
“Yes.”
Michael (nodding, voice breaking just a little):
“Good.”
