She had always felt sick whenever the external situation was at odds with her internal situation. The clean front seats of her parked compact car were dark, and quiet, and safe. If it weren't for the two people sitting in them, it would be completely empty. An orange streetlamp buzzed above the car. Other than that, silence.
However, there were a million and more frightened voices chattering and fidgeting inside Victoria's head, and no two agreed, but no two were really arguing either. She tried looking for solace in Michael, but his strong features were neutral and unreadable and far too attractive and it's rather hot in here and now half the voices have shut up and the other half have gotten a good deal louder and Victoria turned her attention to the steering wheel. She gripped it in the ten-and-two position, and she felt the seat belt tight against her chest. Safety first.
"What? I'm sorry, what did you say?" Victoria found a voice.
"I like you, too, Victoria," he repeated without pleasure or guilt. His eyes were deep wells that revealed nothing. "What? Is that so hard to believe?"
She looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror. "Yes."
"I thought you'd be happy? Why else would you tell me how you felt about me?" Michael posed.
"I was all prepared for you to laugh at my face!" blurted Tori, "Or, I don't know, say 'Aw, Tori, that's cute. You're nice, or whatever'."
"Victoria!" Michael exclaimed, hurt. She could compliment him all night and it wouldn't phase him, but the second she started belittling herself, his chest began to rip. "I'm happy when I'm with you. You're smart, and kind, and unique, and brave. You're not just 'nice or whatever'."
Michael reached a reassuring hand towards her shoulder, but it hovered some distance away, waiting for permission. Normally he had no reservations being touching and loving with his friends, but now it would be in a much different context. He was kind of hoping they could move the context to the back seat.
However, there were a million and more frightened voices chattering and fidgeting inside Victoria's head, and no two agreed, but no two were really arguing either. She tried looking for solace in Michael, but his strong features were neutral and unreadable and far too attractive and it's rather hot in here and now half the voices have shut up and the other half have gotten a good deal louder and Victoria turned her attention to the steering wheel. She gripped it in the ten-and-two position, and she felt the seat belt tight against her chest. Safety first.
"What? I'm sorry, what did you say?" Victoria found a voice.
"I like you, too, Victoria," he repeated without pleasure or guilt. His eyes were deep wells that revealed nothing. "What? Is that so hard to believe?"
She looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror. "Yes."
"I thought you'd be happy? Why else would you tell me how you felt about me?" Michael posed.
"I was all prepared for you to laugh at my face!" blurted Tori, "Or, I don't know, say 'Aw, Tori, that's cute. You're nice, or whatever'."
"Victoria!" Michael exclaimed, hurt. She could compliment him all night and it wouldn't phase him, but the second she started belittling herself, his chest began to rip. "I'm happy when I'm with you. You're smart, and kind, and unique, and brave. You're not just 'nice or whatever'."
Michael reached a reassuring hand towards her shoulder, but it hovered some distance away, waiting for permission. Normally he had no reservations being touching and loving with his friends, but now it would be in a much different context. He was kind of hoping they could move the context to the back seat.
