Nightingale

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Michael

I stood for what seemed like hours staring at his face, my eyes wide and mouth even wider. I began taking in all the details of his face. I was convinced if I looked at him long enough he would morph into someone else. This mirage was just a simple case of mistaken identity. My mind analyzed his features and compared them to the memories I had long since stored away. The same shade of dark brown hair, only shorter than he'd worn it before. Same warm chocolate brown eyes I so often thought I would drown in, still lined with long, thick, feathery black lashes any woman would die for. Same full rose colored lips curled slightly into the same familiar smirk. He stood there patiently waiting for my analysis to conclude. My eyes finally broke away from his face to take in his broad shoulders and full chest, a little more filled out than I remembered. How many nights had my cheek rested there as I dreamt? Stop it! I scolded myself. Same arms, thick and sinewed with muscle. How many nights had they held me tightly to his body while we made love? Please stop it! I begged my mind to squelch the flood of memories. As if in slow motion, I watched his hand extend toward the one I still held outstretched. Same strong hands that caressing every inch... A sharp elbow to the ribs brought me back to reality. I shot Claudia a grateful glance; she rolled her eyes in response. Nope, so much for the mistaken identity theory. There he stood, Michael, in the flesh. I suddenly remembered his flesh entirely too well. I felt the heated blush creep up my throat to my cheeks. Claudia was a lifesaver! One more second, and I might have burst into flames.

I shook his hand quickly and tried not to focus on how warm it was. "Nice to see you again. It's been a while," I managed to choke out. He almost seemed amused by my reaction as his eyes followed my figure down to the floor. Oh, God, the floor! I had forgotten about my Coke. Now it was splattered all over everything along with shards of glass. I dropped to a squatted position to clean it up. Claudia shot me an annoyed glance as she joined me. "Would you get it together!" she whispered heatedly. "What the hell is wrong with you, Sam?"

"That's my Michael," I whispered back while picking up the shards.

"Oh, shit!" she whispered back, eyes wide with understanding. You see, Claudia had only been a proud citizen of Crafton for about six years. I had given her a brief synopsis of my past relationship with Michael one day at lunch when she asked about the obvious animosity between me and Darcy. I briefly looked up to see the she-devil sauntering to Michael's right side. He caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye and seemed to tense at her. Yep, this was going to be awkward.

"Well, hello, Michael," she purred. "Or should I call you Doctor Weathers? Mind if I call you 'Doc'?" she flirted.

"Whatever you prefer, Darcy," he replied.

"Doc Weathers it is then." She smiled, batted her eyelashes, and ran her hand across his shoulder.

My stomach lurched like I had been punched in the gut by a prize fighter. Not now! Do not do this to me now. My little gift had a nasty way of showing up at the most inopportune times. I tried to focus on my task, but as I stared at the cola on the floor, it morphed into the stained concrete of the parking garage in a flash. I clamped my eyes shut and the image hit me with the force of a train. I could smell the oil and exhaust when I tried to force air into my lungs. Then I heard the man's deep voice echo through my mind. "Doc Weathers, she's over here!" In an instant, I was back in the conference room. The fateful night was getting closer. I could feel it. All of the pieces were coming together. I felt clammy and dizzy, and I realized I was holding my breath. I inhaled deeply, lost my balance, and shoved a large shard of the shattered bottle into my palm. Nice! I hadn't realized Michael had knelt to help Claudia and me until he took my injured hand in his.