Aom was acutely aware of Mike's protective presence around her, as they sat contentedly beside each other.  As she leaned her head against the strength of his shoulder, part of her wondered if he had been wrestling with the same questions she had, if he knew what she did not, if he had the same answers and lack of answers that she did.  The rest of her didn't dare to break this comfortable silence they found so freeing and satisfying.  Finally, her curiosity and uncertainty won out.  “Mike?” she turned her head to see him as he met her thoughtful eyes with steady ones.  

“Hmm?”  His fingers still danced in her smooth locks, and she felt his arm drift from the couch to her back as he adjusted to turn and face her.  Aom paused, thinking back on all she had tried and failed to explain and define for herself and the interviewer just minutes before during the interview.  It wasn't something one could really put into words, was it?  She hesitated and furrowed her eyebrows, causing Mike to look concerned.  “What is it, Aom?”

“Um... It's just that I was thinking about all of this and us and-”  Aom paused, searching for any words that could explain what she meant... what he meant...  there were none.  “Well... uh, it's just that we...”  She halted as her phone buzzed in her back pocket.  Relieved for a distraction, she hurriedly pushed against Mike's hand, glancing behind her.  “Could you get that for me?”  

Ignoring the phone Mike stayed her head and looked into her eyes, questioningly, “But, what were you saying?”  

Aom forced a lighthearted laugh and attempted to shake the head he still powerfully, but gently, held “Oh...nothing, never mind- that could be Boss.”  Still unwavering, Mike leaned towards her, searching her eyes.  “Mike!” Aom laughed, “the phone!”  She tried again an attempt to reach back and get her vibrating cell but his arm's weight kept her pocket pressed into the seat.  She gave him and exasperated moan amid her giggles as she continued wiggling against his grasp.  Mike got right in front of her, forcing her to notice his beautiful eyes.  His look was penetrating and sincere, but his lips held a mischievous smile.  Aom began poking him relentlessly in the ribs.  Laughing playfully, Mike dropped her necklace and started tickling her side.  Among shrieks and giggles, she managed a breathless, “you're crazy Mike, answer it!”

Reluctantly,  he released her head and ran his hand down to her hip, sliding her cell from her jean pocket and answering it.  “Hello, Boss?  Okay, now?  mmm Kaa...”  Aom fixed her hair and tightened the belt around her tunic.  Funny how she didn't have to worry about looking perfect around Mike.  Maybe they just knew and trusted each other so well it didn't matter.  Moreover, he had seen so many sides of her already, from when she wore elegant dresses and curled locks to when she was in lounge wear without her hair or makeup done.  “They're on their way here.”

Nodding and sitting up straighter, Aom patted Mike's knee reassuringly.  “Okay, good.”  She glanced about the empty room, imagining how full of creative people's voices and ideas it would soon be.

Sensing her pensiveness, Mike lowered his voice, just shy of a whisper. “Aom?”  He paused until she hummed a response.  “What were you trying to say?”  

Hearing footsteps and Ananda's full voice followed by Jeab's lively laugh, Aom shrugged “Oh, it was nothing, and they're here!”  As the door opened, Aom jumped up excitedly and pulled Mike to his feet to greet their friends and meet some she hadn't known before.  The room soon erupted into the cheerful collaboration she had anticipated.  Ananda and Jeab sat across from them and Aom watched Mike instinctively pick off a bit of fuzz from her tunic sleeve, then pull out a chair out for her.  She bowed to him as he softly smiled and shook back his hair from his face, sliding into the chair on her right.  A pile of stapled papers arrived on the table, the new faces offered bows and introductions, Ananda shared some inside jokes, Jeab took a few pictures, someone handed out water bottles, and the meeting began.  

Aom leaned back, allowing Mike to reach across and over her to grab one of the papers to her left.  Instead of giving her room, he leaned closer to her, discreetly turned to her right ear, and murmured a quick “You okay?” before pulling the pages to himself.  She glanced towards him, gave him a brief nod, and browsed through the first page in front of her.  Mike turned to the next page when their producer and writer friends instructed, but brushed the unopened water bottle off the table.  Aom realized he had done it on purpose when he turned back to look at her while reaching across her legs to get the bottle.  Speaking in an almost inaudible tone, Mike whispered a concerned, “But, are we okay?” as he almost unconsciously nuzzled his cheek against her lap.

Aom glanced across the table as Boss gave her a confused smile and asked “Aom, where'd Mike go?”  Before Boss could get too many ideas, Aom lightly slapped Mike's back and blurted out how he was so clumsy and kept dropping things, while nudging him off her knees with her left hand.  He gave her a surprised, almost hurt look, before sitting up and looking studiously down at his pages.  Remembering how sensitive he was about her response to him, she almost said something to explain, something encouraging; but hesitated, looking at the unfamiliar faces around the table and the watching eyes of Boss and P'Ananda.  Aom wistfully wished they were alone again -free from any pressing questions, assumptions, or prying eyes- everything was so much easier that way.  Away from any outside pressures, rumors, or expectations, their closeness was virtually effortless.  

Scooting her chair closer to the table, Aom nonchalantly drew it closer to Mike's and carefully slid her hand onto his left knee.  She left her hand there, waiting for a response, but keeping it hidden from view of anyone else there.  Aom sneaked a look at Mike, but he didn't acknowledge her at all, just responded to P'Ananda about the project and seemed absorbed in the script before him.  Still avoiding her eyes and acting like everything was about the papers before him, Mike's warm fingers slowly, secretly enfolded her small hand in a tender, yet surprisingly fierce embrace.  

As P'Ananda discussed options of setting and background for the potential story, Aom sensed Mike watching her and she allowed herself to turn to meet his emotional eyes.  They were filled with questions, begging, almost pleading for her to respond.  She saw an uncertain worry in his relentless grasp as he desperately tried to read her.   Aom affirmed him with a smile, and squeezed his hand twice.  She noticed his eyes grow calmer and his hand relax around hers.  Whatever tension had stifled the air before, it was gone now, as they both laughed easily and related happily to their friends around the table.  All the while, he held her fingers in his, firmly enough to feel his heartbeat pulsing through his hand, gently enough to allow his thumb to tenderly, maybe even involuntarily, her wrist.  She let her hand melt into his as they reminisced, planned, teased, and laughed with the others.  It felt good.  It felt right.  It felt normal.  It felt easy.  It felt real.  It felt like Mike.  Why change anything?  Why force anything? Why label anything? This was perfect.