"Michonne, are you serious?" Mike asked incredulously, his eyes wide and his voice loud over the thumping music that wafted from the party inside of the house.

Michonne shook her head, looking away as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Mike, I told you before that our relationship was not going to go any further than friendship. What exactly did you misunderstand?"

"All of it," he answered, running a hand over the top of his head. Sweat had started to bead across his temples, thanks in part to the alcoholic drink he held in his hand and the hot, humid air that surrounded him. He shuffled from one foot to the other and the floorboards of the porch where they stood creaked. "I thought you would at least have given it a thought. I mean, we look good on paper together and we're both legacy students, so…"

This time, Michonne was unable to resist the urge and her eyeballs nearly rolled to the back of her head at the last part of his sentence. She knew that her legacy status would be thrown around when she first walked onto Howard University's campus, and this- her situation with Mike- was example number one.

"Then I guess you're not as smart as I thought," she thought, but wouldn't dare say out loud. Mike was a nice guy, a booksmart guy who had a bright future ahead of him and, with his good looks and charm, would be able to get any girl on campus. Michonne, however, was not one of them.

She had no interest in him. She needed someone less into image and more into heart. It sounded cliche, she knew that, but it was what she longed for. And she knew just the person who had it.

As if on cue, his movement caught her attention of the corner of her eye. She turned to see Rick leaning against the back door frame feet crossed at the ankles as spoke with one of his friends that he had bought along on the ride from Georgia Tech. He and his friends stood out easily in the sea of Howard students. He held a red solo cup in his hand, most likely filled with beer, and a small smile on his face. He must've felt her watching him because his gaze met hers within seconds, his smile growing wider and he raised his head for a nod. She laughed and rolled her eyes playfully, trying to ignore the butterflies that began to flutter in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm sorry, Mike," she said genuinely, moving her gaze from Rick and back to Mike. She felt bad that she was putting him in the friend zone. She opened her mouth for an explanation, but he stopped her before she could start.

"It's okay," he said, his disappointed eyes landing on the ground than back on her. The corners of his mouth lifted into a small, sad smile. "Maybe in a few years, we'll realize what was right in front of us."

He poured out of the remains of his drink and threw the cup over the porch railing, where it landed on the neatly trimmed lawn. He pushed past Rick and his friends and escaped into the house, in search of his dignity and a stronger drink to drown his sorrows.

"Everything okay?" Rick asked, walking over to her with that bow legged walk she used to tease him about when they were kids. He stood only inches away from her, looking down at her in concern.

"Yeah," she breathed. The smell of him filled her nostrils, her senses flaring. She never realized how much she missed it until now.

"Good thing I stayed out here," Rick said, leaning against the railing, his electric blue eyes on her soft brown eyes. Another thing she missed. "Just in case that guy tried something."

"He's a good guy. He wouldn't have done anything," she shrugged. "Besides, I can handle myself."

"Oh, I know you can," he chuckled. He took a sip of his drink. "I just wanted a good seat in case something did happen. You would've beat him down within a few good seconds. Would have made a nice show."

She teasingly hit him on the shoulder, laughing along with him. "Whatever, Rick. I know you didn't drive out here on homecoming weekend to watch me break it off with someone."

"You're right," he nodded, placing his drink on the nearby patio table. "I came to see you. Just you."

His southern accent came out in full force, another feature that she used to tease him about when they were kids. Back then, it sounded gaudy and over the top, but now it was… charming. It was music to her ears and it hit the right notes, causing a shiver to run up her spine.

She had to get this secret of hers out before it was too late.

She led him upstairs, gently pushing past the throngs of people that filled the home of Ezekiel King, a study partner from her Art History class. Ezekiel himself was at the top of the staircase, a drink in his hand as he shamelessly flirted with Michonne's cousin, Sasha. Sasha, obviously bored out of her mind as she tried to figure out an escape route, caught wind of Michonne and Rick and raised an eyebrow. Michonne gave a reassuring smile before disappearing into the quiet, empty bedroom at the end of the hall with Rick closely behind her.

"Do you realize that this is the longest we've ever been away from each other?" Rick said as he sat down on the bed beside Michonne. "Two years is a long time, Chonne."

"We've seen each other since then." She paused to think for a minute. "Thanksgiving break freshman year, Christmas break last year and that one memorial day weekend."

"Yeah, but we never did get a chance to sit down and talk during those quick moments," he pointed out. "The text messages and emails aren't enough anymore."

"It's been busy for both of us," she said softly, realizing that life had gotten in the way of their friendship, something that they had promised would never happen. They still attempted to keep in contact with each other, sending text messages here and there and silly emails around exam time. Just a quick note to make sure the other was okay in this crazy, hectic world that they had thrown themselves in. "Though I will be going back home next week for a few days," she revealed sadly, her voice wavering suddenly at the reason why.

He watched as her eyes glistened over and he reached out to take his hand in hers to provide some comfort, his rough skin against her soft skin. He already knew what she was referring to. "I know. I spoke with your mom last week. She told me about your dad's surgery."

Michonne nodded. "She told me you call them every week just to see how he's doing." She gave him a warm smile. "Thank you. I know they really appreciate that. I appreciate that."

Rick ran a hand through his wavy curls, his cheeks red. "I was just worried about him, wanted to check in to see how he was doing. He's done a lot for me, you know. When my dad died, your parents stepped in to make sure we had everything we needed. I just want to do the same."

He shrugged, trying to play it off as not a big deal. But Michonne knew that this was the type of person that Rick was- always thinking of others first, making sure that everyone was comfortable. He put his heart into every aspect of his life, just one of the many things that she loved about him.

She loved him.

She had always loved him, but she started to realize that it was much more than a friendship type love. It was the type that she wanted to wake up to every morning, a fierce flame that stood in the pit of her stomach whenever she was near him. Not being able to see him every day was torture and knowing that he had a life of his own- and possibly another girl- down in Georgia didn't make things any better. She was only the childhood friend, the one he used to play hide and seek with for hours in his backyard, the one who knew all of his embarrassing secrets. It would never work.

Still, she had to get it off of her chest.

"Do you remember that game your parents had us play whenever I would come over for dinner at your house?" Rick asked suddenly, his eyes searching hers, her hand still in his. His thumb was caressing her wrist, a motion that made her breath hitch.

"Thorns and roses," he answered for her fondly. He was sitting so close to her now, his knee touching hers. "We had to give the best and worst part of our day."

"And Dad always made sure that the roses outweighed the thorns," she smiled, closing her eyes as she memories came rushing back to her. She let out a heavy breath. "There's been so many thorns lately, Rick."

"There has to be a rose somewhere," he whispered. He tucked one of her braids behind her ear with his free hand, cupping her cheek for a brief second before pulling it away.

"Being here with you," she confessed, finally opening her eyes and meeting his gaze. She hoped he could see what she was talking about, to feel what she was feeling on the inside.

He caught on, the switch of realization finally turning on. His eyes swept over her face and then lingered over her lips before he moved in closer to her.

Her heart beating wildly in her chest, Michonne closed her eyes as he captured her lips with his. It was a light kiss at first, so gentle it seemed more like a polite gesture. But he went deeper, his tongue dancing with hers. She could still taste traces of the beer that he had finished drinking earlier. Her hands made their way to the back of his head, her fingers running through the soft, brown curls that were way past due for a haircut. Nonetheless, she still liked it and she, admittedly, had been waiting for this moment for quite a while now.

He pulled away slowly, looking at her to make that sure she was okay. Once he saw that she was, he rested his forehead against hers, his breathing heavy.

"How long?" he drawled out.

She sighed. "So long I can't even pinpoint when I first realized it." She squeezed his hand. "I just- I didn't want to mess up what we had. I've seen so many people go from friends to lovers to people that barely acknowledge one another. I couldn't risk that happening to us."

"I wouldn't have let that happen."

"But it could've," she countered back and it made him smile. She never backed down from her argument; she would make a great lawyer someday. "And you know that."

"It's been since high school for me," he said, glancing over at her. "Freshman year. Right after dad died, you spent every waking minute with me making sure I was okay. I never said anything for the same reason, but I wish I had said something earlier."

"Why?"

"Because seeing these other guys try to pursue you is brutal," he smirked, nodding his head to the window. The porch was right underneath the bedroom window. "I wanted to push that asshole over the porch railing."

"His name is Mike," she said, laughing and shaking her head.

"Well, whatever his name is, it doesn't matter at this point." He moved in closer to her again, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and placing a kiss on her temple. She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. She felt at peace now, her secret- and his- out now. Her shoulders no longer bore the weight of it all and she felt free.

"All that matters is me and you," he continued, his fingers running up and down her arm. "We'll make it work."

Mike was right about one thing, Michonne thought as the night went out. She would realize what was right in front of her all along.

They spent the next few hours talking, enjoying being in each other's presence. Their phones were pushed to the side, set on silent so they wouldn't be disturbed or disrupted of their special time together. Rick was only in town for another twenty-four hours so they had to make the most of their time.

They lay facing each other on the small twin bed, the lights off and the darkness surrounding them. The moonlight trickled in through the open window, casting its light on Rick's beautiful face.

"You never gave me your rose," Michonne pointed out, running her finger along his jawline. Sleepiness was starting to wash over her and she wanted to hear about the beautiful moment of his day before falling asleep, to let it enter into her dreams.

He smiled, watching as her eyes started to drift close and lose the battle. "You, Michonne. You're my rose."