Chapter twenty-three – What's The Point?

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After walking home from the pottery place, I note the time as being 1:00pm. I'm still slightly overwhelmed from what's happened today – Michael and I starting a relationship? It's something I never really saw happening. But then, when I think about it ... it feels obvious. Like, it was supposed to happen. I mean, we're both alone, the opposite gender, and we have an overly-affectionate friendship. Thinking about it like that, it's a surprise something didn't start sooner.

For now, it's just a sort of trial. It's clear that the care is there, but we've only known each other for about a month, so we kind of need to pace ourselves a little. Something tells me that Michael is enthusiastic about there being an "us", and don't get me wrong, I am too, but the whole thing is still so new to me. It's been years since I've been in this situation.

"S-So, what now?" Michael asks me, as we enter the living room, "I mean, it's up to you. I don't mind at all." His tone is sweet and gentle, slightly unlike what I'm used to hearing. Normally it's just inviting and polite, but this time is has real warmth.

We sit together on the sofa, slightly closer to one another than we were before today. My hand rests on the sofa to keep me upright, but then within seconds, I feel Michael's hand press softly against mine, sending a shiver down my spine. Yes, it still happens – though I thought we were past that stage, myself.

"I don't mind what we do. We can just watch TV if you like," I answer, trying not to overreact to the feel of his hand touching mine, "Just ... just keep it simple today, yeah?"

My eyes avert to his face, as he gives me a nod in response, "That's perfect Citria." His whole going-with-whatever-Citria-says attitude causes me to smile in amusement – because it's quite cute to me.

I reach to grab the remote, switching the TV on, before flicking channels. One of those home video programmes comes on, so I leave it on that. They're Michael's favourites, if I remember rightly. He always loves watching them.

"Oh! Yes!" He suddenly notices what's on, "I love this show! This is the kind of thing I mean. It's hard to not love your personality."

"My personality? I only kept a programme on TV," I chuckle, feeling his fingers lightly stroke my knuckles, now.

"Your caring personality, I mean. Always thinking of others before yourself. This is my favourite programme, not yours. It just ... yeah." His lips form a closed-mouth smile because he's struggling to find a way to end his sentence. I get what he means, though.

"Oh, right. Well ... it's just my nature, Michael." I return a genuine smile.

Then, I feel his fingers slide down my hand a little, so they can lace together with my own. These tiny little things are making me fall more and more for him; he's such a sweet gentleman.

"Well, I love your nature." He seems to lose focus on the television, instead concentrating fully on me, now. His eyes are sparkling a little, as if the way he's looking at me is meant to tell me that he really, truly cares for me. He has the faintest smile upon his face, yet I can tell he's serious, somehow.

Unlacing my fingers from his, I instead let myself lie in his arms. He allows me, no questions asked, so my head and hand lean on his chest, as he wraps his arms around my shoulders. Moments later, I feel a soft kiss on the top of my forehead, instantly making my mood one hundred times better. Even when I think I'm at my happiest, he makes me happier.

My arm slowly moves up his body, to wrap around his neck. Then, I pull myself up slightly, so our heads are nearly level. My face is now almost buried into the crook of his neck. Because I've moved positions, Michael's hand is now on the small of my back, rather than my shoulder, but it makes me feel protected.

"You know how happy I am that we're giving "us" a go?" Michael whispers, his nose nuzzling against the side of my head affectionately, "Very happy."

"I'm happy, too," I reply, my voice quiet to match his, "I really am." Then, I remember the TV, "Oh, don't you want to watch your programme? You're missing it, Michael."

I look up at him, seeing that he's already looking down at me. That same bad-boy smirk rises onto his face as he shakes his head, "What programme could be better than what I'm experiencing right now? You can turn it off if you like."

My eyebrows furrow, "Are you sure? I can keep it on if you like—"

"Citria, turn it off. I couldn't care less about the TV right now. You're my main focus." His smirk begins to grow a little, which for some reason, makes me obey his little demand, resulting in me switching the television off. To this, he nods in approval, "Good. Now ... I've been thinking. You used to be my mother figure, in a weird sort of way. My mother, best friend, sister ... all of that in one. Now ... you're none of those, are you?"

My head shakes in answer to his question, "I guess not, no ... "

"No. Now, it's all a little different, and our relationship isn't what it was before. You're honestly happy with that? Or are you just saying that to make me happy? You have a tendency to do that; make me happy by making a sacrifice yourself." His tone has become a little worried, so I make it my job to convince him I'm genuinely happy.

"Michael." My hands lightly rest upon his cheeks, "Listen ... I only ever make decisions that will make me happy. It's just an added bonus that it makes you happy, too. Stop worrying that I'm not happy with what I do, 'cause in reality, I'm very happy. I'm happy being in this situation; I'm happy being here right now; I'm happy being ... with you. Okay?" A reassuring smile spreads across my face, "I'm happy having ... you."

Hearing these words, he's clearly more sure than he was. "That's what I was longing to hear," he admits, his voice no louder than a mutter, "And it's exactly the same with me. I'm happy ... so happy right now."

"I'm glad about that." All I can really do is smile. It's remarkable, how just one another's presence is enough to make us both happy. We really are all each other needed.

He doesn't reply to me verbally; instead he bends down a little, then we both close our eyes simultaneously as he softly grazes his lips over mine. Just that isn't enough for me, so I apply slightly more pressure, transforming the simple peck into a proper kiss. All too soon, we separate, his eyes capturing mine.

"So, so happy ... " he repeats his previous words, earning a small snicker from me. Then, I reposition myself in his arms, and we just snuggle together for the entire afternoon.

* * *

It's now 10:47pm, and it's a wonder that Michael and I are both still awake. For the past few weeks, we've been falling asleep rather early, so ... it's a little different, being awake close to eleven at night. Perhaps it's the ... excitement, I suppose, from everything that's happened today? Maybe. Today has certainly been eventful.

At the moment, we're lying on the sofa, in the same way we were before dinner. It's comforting to me, simply being in Michael's arms – I would stay here forever, if I could. The thing is, we've only been in a "relationship" for a few hours, so I don't want to become too eager, otherwise it'll ruin what we have. If I had the choice, this time would be spent with the two of us just ... kissing one another, and showing how much we care for one another. But like I said, I don't want to sound too eager or over-the-top.

Feeling something on my hair, I raise my arm, letting my hand meet whatever is on the top of my head. It only takes a split second to realise it's just Michael's hand stroking my hair, so I chuckle in embarrassment, allowing him to continue. He snickers at me too, obviously finding my reaction amusing.

"Did you forget I was here?" he questions playfully, but with a soft, gentle quality in his tone.

"I just wasn't expecting it to be your hand," I answer, a small grin forming on my face, "I'm sorry if that's inconvenient, Mr Jackson, Sir."

His lips form a closed-mouth smile as he shifts his gaze to me, "It's entirely convenient, Miss Espinosa, Madam." He then pulls a confused face, "What are we talking about, again?"

Shrugging, I lightly nuzzle his jawline with my nose, closing my eyes to rest them briefly, "I don't remember now ... but I'm getting tired." My voice does sound rather worn out now, to be honest.

His hand finds its way to the small of my back, as he inhales deeply, "Well then, let's go to bed." He stretches his tired arm and leg muscles, stifling a yawn, "Gosh, I'm more tired than I thought."

He pats my side, indicating for me to get up, so I do, before he gets up himself. We both make our way up the stairs, arriving at the bathroom. Both of us take the time to brush our teeth and all of that, then I start to go to my room, expecting Michael to follow me. When I turn around, I see him heading to his own room, leaving me puzzled.

"Michael?" I call his name.

He turns his head to see me by my room, furrowing his eyebrows, "Citria?" His imitation of my tone is so accurate that it makes me smile.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

His hand balls up into a fist, with only his thumb sticking out, which he uses to point behind him, "To ... bed. Why?" Confusion is clear in his voice.

I shake my head, "Uh, sorry, I just ... I thought you would come to my room tonight," I admit shyly, "And well ... every night."

"Y-You want to sleep together ... like, as a couple?" His eyebrows raise in surprise, "Really?" He seems to be trying to control his reaction a little, now.

"No! I mean, well, yes! But no! Uh ... " A moment of silence passes as I try to find the right words to say, "Uhm, I mean ... yeah. But look, I know that whenever you hear the phrase "Sleep together", you think of ... intimate things. I don't mean it like that; I just mean ... sleeping in the same room, on the same bed. Just cute, y'know?" A playful, sweet smile forms on my face to emphasise my point.

Michael nods, seemingly finally understanding, "I get it. Okay ... that's what we'll do. Just as ... just as long as you're sure about that. I can totally stay in my own bed like normal, if you're not ready—"

"I'm okay with it, honestly. We've done it before as best friends, so why is it suddenly so scary as a ... couple?" Now I'm half jokey, half serious. I don't understand what he's so worried about.

"I don't find it scary. Just ... I don't want to do anything you don't want to. I'm thinking about your feelings." He gives me a genuine smile, which I quickly return, "So okay, I'll come sleep with you. We can be cute."

"Good." I walk over to him, grabbing a hold of his sleeve, before dragging him into my room, "Now, it's past eleven, so let's just sleep and ... be cute."

He nods his head in agreement, getting into bed, with me joining him. Immediately, my head leans on his shoulder, with my hand rested against his chest. We've been in that position a lot today, because it's just so comfortable – and it makes me feel protected, being in his arms.

"So ... how long is this trial going to last?" I find myself asking.

Underneath my head, I can feel Michael's chest rising and falling with each breath he takes. "Well ... however long it takes. We'll both be able to feel when it's the right time to make a proper decision," he explains.

"Right. It's just ... here we are now, acting as if we already made the decision, but then ... what if we decide to just remain as friends? Won't that be awkward?" My eyebrows furrow slightly, because of both curiosity and fatigue.

"I'd like to think that won't happen. After this little trial, I'd like to see us ... actually together." His statement makes me happy, because that's what I was thinking, too.

"Well ... I was kind of thinking the same," I confess, my voice quiet now, "I'd like to come out of this ... trial, in a relationship."

He exhales through his nose, averting his eyes to me, "Then what's the point in this trial? If we both want to be with one another, then why are we letting a trial stop us?" His tone is more serious, now, "I mean seriously! I don't understand."

"Because it's only been ... less than a day, Michael. I know the trial may seem pointless, but ... it's so that we don't rush. We want to take it slow; just pace ourselves. Going too quick might ruin it all." Despite the fact I'm right, I can't help but feel guilty because I know Michael really wants us to evolve already.

"Okay." He takes an almost-silent breath, looking away from me, at the wall on the other side of the room.

"I've not made you mad, have I?" Sadness begins to fill my heart at the notion that I've upset him, "Michael?"

"I'm not mad ... I'm just disappointed. It's just ... I understand that you want to take it slow, but I've been thinking about everything a lot today."

"Everything? Like what?" My hand reaches up to cup his cheek, so I can turn his head back my way.

He shakes his head, "I just mean ... all my family and friends are dead. Some of them were my age ... some older ... but then some were only kids. If you walked up to a kid and told them they were going to die within the next week or something, no one would believe you ... 'cause they're just a kid. But in reality, nobody knows when they're going to die, so ... they don't take chances or risks, ever. That scares me so much, so ... I just don't want to go so slow that nothing happens to ... us."

Hearing these words, I can't help but feel Michael's right. Life is short, and you never know when you're going to die. Risks and chances should be taken, so ... maybe Michael and I should take that chance, and make a decision on our relationship soon.

"You're right." A small weight seems to be taken off of me as I speak those two words, "But ... I want to compromise. If you really want to speed this up, but I want us to pace ourselves, then we'll meet halfway. How about on Sunday, we go on a date, then after that date, we can decide on whether or not we start a relationship. Okay?"

To this, he nods, a small, mellow smile forming on his face, "Okay. That works for me." Then, a thought seems to come to his head, "Can I organise it?"

Wow – he's actually wanting to choose for once. I'll let him; it's not often that he asks to choose. Normally he forces me to.

"Of course; that would be great." I return the smile, "But anyway ... it's getting late. We can talk more about this tomorrow, alright?"

He nods in agreement, "That's okay; I know you're tired. Let's get some sleep, now." He bends down to quickly peck my lips, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Michael," I reply, a warm feeling within my heart.

I know the date will probably be something simple, such as going to the fields, but the idea that Michael is organising it is cute. Maybe he'll add a little twist or something – I don't know. But I'm sure he'll make it a little more than just a trip to the fields.

I'm actually excited about this.

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Chapter twenty-three! I hope it's getting a little better for you, now?
Whilst I'm here, I wanna take the time to thank you; within an hour of posting the last chapter, I reached 1K votes on this story. That's a huge achievement! Thank you! ❤️
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)