Michael.
Michael sat on the couch, staring blankly at the half-eaten birthday cake.
His friends were laughing, but he couldn’t hear them.
Because he had kissed Mary. And Mary had kissed him back.
And it hadn’t been weird.
It had been good.
Like… really good.
And now?
He wanted to do it again.
Which was a problem, because he had no idea what that meant.
And what if it was just a “heat of the moment, locked-in-a-closet” thing for her?
And what if he ruined everything by bringing it up?
And what if he was reading into it and she regretted it already?
Michael let out a low, pained groan, dropping his face into his hands.
Kelly, perched next to him, raised an eyebrow. “You good there, Birthday Boy?”
Michael snapped upright, trying to play it cool.
“Yeah—yeah. Just… hit my head when Jeremy shoved me in the closet.”
Tom squinted at him. “You hit your head… and that made you sit here clutching your soul like you saw your dad laughing?”
Michael waved his hand vaguely. “Just… let me have this.”
Kelly grinned. “Uh-huh. Sure. Not closet-related at all, right?”
Michael’s ears burned red.
“Shut up.”
From the kitchen window, Michael could see Mary outside—and Jeremy sprinting for his life like a cartoon character.
Mary was gaining on him.
Jeremy was yelling something that sounded like a mixture of “I’m sorry!” and “Please, God, don’t!”
Kelly laughed so hard she nearly fell off the counter.
Tom was crying from laughter.
Michael tried to laugh too, but watching Mary—her hair loose, cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed like a predator—did something uncomfortable to his heart.
Because she looked hot as hell.
And that was a problem.
Because he was already trying not to think about the kiss.
He let out another frustrated groan, which just made Kelly and Tom laugh harder.
At first, it was funny.
But then, Mary caught up.
She tackled Jeremy into a bush with the kind of force that made Michael wince.
Jeremy’s scream was a little too real.
Mary’s voice had that edge—the kind that suggested she was maybe 30% joking and 70% actually out for blood.
Tom’s laughter slowed. “Uh… should we stop that?”
Kelly tilted her head. “Yeah… she might actually hurt him.”
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Michael was already getting up.
He didn’t want Jeremy to die.
But also, if Mary got arrested on his birthday, it would kind of ruin the vibe.
They hurried outside, closing the distance quickly.
Mary was straddling Jeremy, pinning him down, holding a plastic spoon like it was a weapon.
Jeremy’s hands were raised in surrender. “Mary! Bestie! Buddy! Pal! Let’s talk about this!”
Mary’s eyes narrowed. “Talk? Oh, now you want to talk?”
Michael stepped in before she could spoon-stab his best friend.
“Mary!” he called, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Okay, that’s enough murder attempts. It’s my birthday.”
Mary glanced over, breathing heavily, eyes still blazing—but when she met Michael’s gaze, her expression softened just a little.
And his heart did that stupid flip thing again.
She let out a frustrated sigh, shoving Jeremy once more for good measure before standing up and brushing leaves off her jeans.
Jeremy scrambled up like he’d seen the light of heaven, clutching his chest.
Michael clapped him on the back. “Happy you survived?”
Jeremy wheezed. “Barely.”
Mary crossed her arms, shooting a glare at all of them, but there was a faint smile underneath it.
Kelly grinned. “Okay, now we can eat cake.”
Back inside, everything settled into that comfortable, post-chaos vibe.
Jeremy was dramatically telling his side of the story, making himself sound like a war hero.
Mary was cutting him down at every turn.
Kelly and Tom were dying laughing, occasionally poking at Michael just to see him turn red again.
Michael?
He was half-present.
He smiled and laughed, but his mind kept drifting—
Back to the closet.
Back to that kiss.
Back to her.
He wanted to kiss her again.
He really wanted to kiss her again.
But for now—he let himself enjoy this.
His friends, his stupid cake, and the girl who made his heart race.
The party was over.
Everyone had gone their separate ways, except Tom, because it was his house, and Kelly had left, dragging Jeremy with her before Mary could finish the job after he made another joke.
That left Michael and Mary, walking side by side down the quiet street.
It was late, cold, and the night smelled like damp leaves and distant rain. The only sound was their footsteps and the occasional distant car.
And it was awkward as hell.
Michael’s heart was pounding, but not from nerves about his dad for once.
It was because she was right there, close enough that their hands kept brushing, and he still felt her lips on his.
And he was dying to know if it had meant something to her.
But he couldn’t ask.
Because what if it hadn’t?
They had been walking for fifteen minutes, and neither of them had said a word.
Michael’s chest felt tight.
Say something. Anything.
He took a breath, his voice coming out rough and hesitant.
“So… about earlier…”
Mary stopped walking.
Michael’s stomach dropped.
She turned to look at him, her face unreadable in the dim streetlight.
Michael immediately regretted everything.
He was about to ruin this.
“I—I just wanted to know… I mean, the closet thing—was that, like… heat of the moment? Or… did it—”
“Shut up.”
Michael blinked.
Before he could react, Mary stepped forward and kissed him again.
It was softer than in the closet, but still confident, her hand lightly resting on his cheek, her lips warm against his.
Michael’s brain short-circuited.
Everything else faded.
It was just him and Mary.
She pulled back after a few seconds, eyes flicking between his, her cheeks flushed.
“It was the heat of the moment,” she said, smirking slightly but with a softness underneath. “But it… meant something.”
Michael nodded slowly, trying to find words.
“…Okay.”
Mary arched an eyebrow. “Okay?”
Michael laughed under his breath, nervous but relieved. “Okay… but… can we… kiss more?”
Mary grinned, grabbing his shirt and pulling him in.
“Obviously.”
This time, it was different.
They weren’t stuck in a closet, and no one was watching. It was just them.
Mary’s arms slid around his neck, and Michael’s hands found her waist, nervous at first but growing bolder.
They kissed—really kissed—and it was messy and a little awkward.
Their noses bumped.
Michael almost stepped back into a mailbox.
Mary giggled against his mouth, but neither of them stopped.
It was clumsy and perfect.
Michael felt his heart racing, but it wasn’t fear this time.
It was wanting her to be close, being wanted back.
She tugged his hair gently, and he made a noise he was immediately embarrassed about, but Mary didn’t tease him.
If anything, she held him tighter.
They pulled apart briefly for air, breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together.
Michael opened his eyes, dizzy from kissing and adrenaline, and that’s when he saw it.
A car driving slowly past the intersection down the street. Dark purple. Familiar.
His stomach twisted, instincts firing up.
Was that?
But it was gone in seconds, turning a corner before he could get a good look.
He squinted into the distance, heart racing for a different reason now.
“Michael?”
Mary’s voice brought him back.
He looked at her—flushed, breathing hard, eyes wide and waiting.
It was probably nothing.
And right now, she was here.
Michael let it go.
He smiled—nervous but happy—and leaned back in to kiss her again.
They kissed for a while longer, losing track of time until Mary finally pulled back with a breathless laugh.
“We should… probably go before someone calls the cops on us for making out in front of their house.”
Michael laughed, dizzy with happiness.
“Yeah… probably.”
They started walking again, this time with their hands laced together—no hesitation.
Neither of them said anything else about what this meant.
Because for now, it didn’t matter.
It just was.