Authors: Rose Wulf
“It’s not a problem,” Blake assured her with a smile. As
she snapped her seatbelt into place, his smile turned into a teasing grin.
“Wouldn’t want you to get sick or something having to walk home in this
downpour.”
Angela rolled her eyes at his joke and leaned back in the
seat. “Like that even
could
happen. Really, aren’t you
supposed to be the sensible one?”
“I am,” Blake stated with the straightest face he could
manage. They were silent as he pulled away from the curb in front of her school
and eased back into traffic.
It wasn’t until he had aimed the Mustang toward their
childhood home that Angela sighed, leaned her head against the cool window, and
exclaimed, “I can’t wait until I’m eighteen.”
Curious at her declaration, Blake looked sideways at her
with one eyebrow raised. “What makes you say that?”
“Mom and Dad bought all of you the car of your choice for
your eighteenth birthday,” she replied. “I want my own car, so I can stop
relying on everyone else to be available when I need a ride.”
Blake could easily recall the last few months of his
seventeenth year, when he’d felt much the same. Only his options had been
significantly smaller. With a grin, he said, “C’mon, Angie, one of us is always
around. You know that.”
“I know,” Angela assured her brother. “Although I hate
riding on the back of Nate’s motorcycle. All I can ever think about is how easy
it would be to fall and die.”
Trying not to cringe, Blake said, “Yeah, sometimes I still
can’t believe Nate chose a motorcycle when he could have had just about any car
he wanted. He could’ve just gotten a convertible. Same wind factor, right?”
Angela laughed this time and nodded. “Exactly!”
“Still,” Blake continued with a grin as he turned onto
their court, “at least he doesn’t drive like Dean.”
Angela mock-shuddered. “You do have a point.”
Blake slowed as he pulled up in front of the double-garage
that housed their parents’ vehicles and said somberly, “On a serious note,
Angie, give your car some real thought, okay?”
“Says the guy who asked for a Mustang,” Angela returned,
her lips and tone teasing even though he could see in her eyes that she took
his words to heart. “Thanks again, Blake.” She leaned over, snatched her
backpack, and planted a kiss on his cheek before popping the door open. “See
you later!”
Blake watched until she had closed the front door behind
herself before switching his car into reverse and backing out of the driveway.
****
The rain was still falling that night when Blake stepped up
to Earl’s Diner for dinner. He rarely ate out by himself, and he certainly had
plenty of food in his refrigerator, but the idea had hit into him as he’d been
leaving Dean’s to pick up his sister and nagged at him ever since. And he’d
have been lying to himself if he tried pretending he’d chosen Earl’s by random
coincidence, too.
He reached to pull open the main door as it swung open,
nearly slamming into him and forcing him to step backwards as he yanked his
hand back. A man he barely recognized was holding the door wide, waiting
patiently for an older man he didn’t know at all. Blake moved to the side
politely even as the older man lifted his eyes to Blake with a glare.
Not a word was spoken as the men made their way past him
and toward the parking lot. The man whose name he probably should have known
had also paused to glare at him, as if he were deliberately blocking their
path.
Blake was completely dumbfounded. He knew he didn’t know
the older of the two, and if he did know the younger one, he didn’t know him
well enough to claim any level of familiarity with him. So why would they go
out of their way to glare at him? It made no sense. Maybe he didn’t actually
know either of them; maybe they were just unfriendly strangers staying in town
to wait out the storm.
Brushing it off, Blake reached out once more and pulled
open the door to the diner. This time he managed to make it inside without
incident, and he paused to shake off some of the rain water instead of trekking
it through the establishment.
“Evening, Blake,” the woman behind the register called with
a smile.
Blake inclined his head. “Evening, Shelly,” he returned
even as he made his way to an open booth. Finding one he liked, he slid halfway
down the seat and let his forearms rest lightly on the tabletop. Looking at the
empty bench seat across from him, Blake decided it was weird to eat out by
himself.
I should think this through a
little better next time,
he decided.
“Some weather we’re having, huh?” Georgia declared as she
came to a stop beside him a few seconds later.
Blake turned and smiled up at her, hoping his
disappointment didn’t show on his face. He honestly hadn’t expected to see her.
“It’s not so bad,” he replied easily.
Georgia crinkled her nose. “You’re only saying that because
you can’t tell what it did to my hair when I stepped outside this morning.”
Blake grinned. “That’s probably true.”
With a grin of her own, Georgia took his order and tucked
the pad back into her apron pocket before suddenly declaring, “Sorry Brooke’s
not here tonight. She switched with Amanda last minute.”
Blake stared up at her, sure she couldn’t possibly have
read him that easily. But she clearly had. Suddenly feeling awkward, Blake
lifted one hand to scratch at the back of his head and said, “Oh,
it’s
fine…”
Georgia offered him a knowing smile, mumbled, “Uh-huh,” and
turned to check on her one and only other table.
With a muffled groan, Blake’s arm fell back to the table
and he hung his head.
That’s humiliating.
And what’s worse, she’ll probably tell Brooke every last detail. I am beyond
pathetic.
He only wished he could argue with his conclusion as he sat and
waited impatiently for his meal to arrive.
Chapter Four
It’d been two or three weeks since Blake’s impulsive solo
trip to Earl’s Diner, and fortunately Brooke didn’t seem to have heard about
it. Now they’d been given a research project and just under a week to get it
done, so he and Brooke had agreed to meet up at his place to knock out as much
of it as possible. Brooke was due in less than ten minutes, and for the first
time in his life Blake found himself scouring his kitchen, making sure it was
presentable. He stopped himself before he’d taken more than two steps toward
his nearest bathroom and shook his head. “I’m an adult, for crying out loud,”
he told himself. “My house is clean. All I need to do is go, sit down, and wait
for her to get here.”
He had hoped by saying the words out loud he would be able
to snap himself out of it. His plan didn’t work.
With a heavy sigh, Blake forced himself to turn around and
half-stomped past his kitchen, toward his living room. He’d already turned on
his laptop and set it on the otherwise-bare coffee table, so that it was ready
and available for their research. He’d checked the ink levels of the printer in
the spare-bedroom-slash-office, as well as the amount of paper in the tray. He
had several bottles of water and iced tea in his fridge, in addition to some
cans of Dr. Pepper and an almost-full jug of orange juice. He had everything
they could possibly need for the afternoon.
He had barely begun to lower himself onto the couch when he
heard a car engine in his driveway. It occurred to him that he should probably
have let his brothers know that he was going to be busy, as they had a habit of
just popping in, but by then he had already turned to look out the window and
realized the thought was unnecessary. None of his brothers drove a Honda.
The impatience he felt as he waited for her to knock was
foreign to him. Usually he was the patient one, at least compared to his
brothers. But all of a sudden he really wanted to tap his foot, or fidget with
his hands. Because it would be weird if he went and opened the door before she
even walked up, wouldn’t it?
Hesitant tapping sounded at his front door before he could
give the thought any more attention.
Blake was immediately in motion, striding to the door and
pulling it open with an easy smile. It was several seconds before he realized
that her jacket was wet.
I’ve reached new
levels of pathetic. It’s raining and I didn’t even notice.
To the woman in
his doorway, he said, “Hey,” and stepped aside so that she could enter.
“Hey,” Brooke replied, slipping past him. “Um, what do I do
with my coat? It’s kind of wet.”
“Oh, here.” Blake held out his hand. “I’ll just drape it
over a chair real quick.”
She shrugged out of her coat after setting her school bag
on the floor and then held it out for him. “Thanks,” she said. “It just started
raining out of nowhere a couple blocks ago. Fortunately I had it in the
backseat.”
Blake had already begun moving toward his dining room,
which opened to the side of his kitchen and extended from his living room, so
his back was to her as he called, “That’s weird. I don’t remember seeing rain
in the forecast until Sunday.”
“When do the weathermen ever get it right?” Brooke replied
with a half-laugh. Before he could reply, she asked, “So, do I just, um, sit?”
From the dining room, Blake said, “Yeah, make yourself
comfortable. And if you’re thirsty, I’ve got a little of everything in the
fridge, so feel free. I figure we can order a pizza or something when we want
lunch.”
“Pizza sounds amazing.” She was grinning sheepishly at him
when he came back into the room. “And I don’t want to be rude, but do you have
coffee? I could go for something warm. The heater in my car’s having a
temper-tantrum today.”
“Ouch,” Blake said, returning her grin with one of his own.
“Yeah, I’ll get it started while you set up.” He moved to his kitchen, which
was open to the living room except for an island.
“You have a really nice house.”
The tell-tale start of the coffee maker preceded Blake’s
response by several beats. “Thanks. I just got it last semester, so sometimes
it still feels a little weird.” By the time he was finished speaking, he was
moving back to the living room, a bottle of water in hand.
Brooke was grinning again as she said, “I’ll be honest, I
only wish I could sympathize. My apartment is probably the size of your living
room and kitchen combined, maybe, and it’s definitely a whole lot older.”
“I don’t know about the older part, but yeah, I know it’s
kind of big. I’d rather grow into it than have to move again as soon as I’m not
single anymore, you know?”
And how did
the conversation go from weather and houses to my relationship status?
He
had to fight not to shake his head at himself. “So,” he continued after
clearing his throat, having claimed a seat on the adjacent piece of furniture.
“Should we get started?”
****
Brooke was on her third cup of coffee, and her fourth slice
of pizza, when the computer screen suddenly blinked. For a moment it
disappeared, and then a heartbeat later the image was back, and brighter than
it had been before. But in that moment, the computer had not been the only
thing that had flickered. The lights they had turned on to help compete with
the heavy cloud cover outside had also disappeared, only they did not come back
on.
Blake sat up straight and looked around, quickly
ascertaining what had happened. “Looks like we lost the power,” he declared.
Only his battery-operated atomic clock, which was mounted on the wall, and his
laptop were still functioning.
“That’s unfortunate,” Brooke commented as she looked around
reflexively. Her eyes eventually settled on the window, and the storm that had
blown in while they’d been working. “It’s really crazy out there. I hope you
don’t have any old trees in your backyard.”
“None that are
that
old.” Blake shifted his attention to the world beyond his window. The storm was
in full swing.
Even with the windows shut, it was easy to hear the howl of
the wind as it ripped through the trees. There were streaks of water running
sideways along the outside of the glass that Brooke could see through the slats
of the blinds. So many that they obscured any real view of the outside world.
But Brooke knew what a hard storm looked like.
“Honestly,” she said as she watched the rain continue to
pelt the window, “I hate storms like this.” She could never be sure if the
echoing wind was coming from outside or from deep in her memory. The chill
already raising goose bumps on her arms was almost certainly from memory.
Blake must have recognized something melancholic in her voice,
because he turned his attention to her. She looked away, her gaze lowered and
distant as her hands clutched the rim of the plate on her lap. It was that or
wrap them tightly around herself, and she didn’t need a mirror or a shrink to
tell her how weak that would make her look.
Blake reached out,
dropped one hand on her shoulder, and gave a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry about
it,” he said. His voice was lowered with concern that wrapped around her like a
whisper of a warm coat.
Brooke looked up at
him and managed a small smile. “Sorry.”
He attempted a
reassuring smile and released her shoulder. “The power will probably come back
on in an hour or two.”
Taking in a deep
breath, Brooke set the plate on the table. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.” It
was just a storm. She’d endured countless wind storms since
that
one. But every thirty seconds or so
the wind gusted enough to shake the walls, and Brooke couldn’t quite stop
herself from scooting a little closer to Blake. Truthfully, she’d been fighting
that particular urge pretty much since she’d walked through the door.
Another gust of
wind tore through the trees, and something crashed outside a little ways off.
Brooke jumped,
startled at the unexpected loud noise. Her head whipped back around, toward the
window, and she felt a twinge of relief when she couldn’t immediately discern
what had made the noise. But that same fact made something inside clench with
worry.
Blake frowned and
pushed to his feet. “That can’t be good,” he mumbled as he moved to his window,
angling his head in an effort to see the source of the crash.
“Can you see what
it was?”
“No,” Blake said,
stepping away from the window. He frowned for a moment in thought before
turning and starting toward the door. “I’m going to go outside for a minute and
see if I can’t see it.”
That was a bad
idea, she was sure. “It was probably nothing,” she insisted. When he turned a
curious look toward her, she corrected, “I mean, nothing you need to worry
about, anyway. You should stay inside.”
Where
it’s safer.
Brooke could see
his argument building, and she held her breath. She’d been told she could
sometimes be irrational in situations like this, but surely she had a point.
And she didn’t want Blake getting himself hurt. There was no need to go outside
and take that risk.
At length, Blake
suggested, “I’ll just go to the end of the driveway, okay? You can watch me
from the door if you’re worried.” She could tell he was trying to be pacifying
because she wasn’t exactly being subtle about her problem with the situation.
But he didn’t understand.
Brooke opened her
mouth to respond, instinctively wanting to disagree, but caught herself in time
and snapped her mouth back shut.
Are you
an adult or an oversized infant?
So she nodded instead and warily found her
feet.
They walked
together to the door, and Brooke suddenly wanted to hold onto him.
Blake slipped into
his raincoat and shoes simultaneously, turning a smile to her as he reached for
the door.
“Wait!” Brooke
exclaimed before she could really
think
about what she was doing. His hand stilled just shy of its goal, and Blake’s
smile faltered, concern dimming his blue eyes. Instead of waiting for his
obvious question, Brooke caught the exposed collar of his shirt and tugged him
into her. Before she knew what the heck had gotten into her, her lips were
moving over his.
Blake froze against
her for a moment before his arms came around her waist and he was kissing her
back. And whatever had possessed Brooke fell back, satisfied, as her tongue
slid over his for the first time.
The kiss was over
long before she was ready as her brain jumpstarted with a little help from a
refreshed deluge of rain over the roof. The sound was just jolting enough to
remind her of the situation, and she whispered, “Be careful.”
He smiled again,
easier this time, and released her as he said, “I’ll be fine, I promise. You
wait here.”
With a heavy
swallow and tingling lips, Brooke nodded and watched as Blake stepped out into
the storm. It was still raging up and down the street, blowing the barely blooming
leaves from the branches of the surrounding trees. Winter was going out with a
bang, apparently.
Brooke watched
Blake jog down his driveway, his hood immediately blown off his head. But he
wasn’t stumbling. He was barely even shielding his eyes, and he stopped on the
inside of his drive—not in the street. She watched his head swivel to the right
and linger before swinging to the left. She was too far away to see his
expression, but his attention lasted longer to the left before he turned and
jogged back up toward her.
“What’d you see?”
He was stripping
out of his soaking raincoat even as he kicked his door shut. “Looks like the
crash was a large limb from a neighbor’s tree. No one was hurt, just the
fence,” he explained as he stepped out of his shoes.
A sigh of relief
escaped her and she allowed a small smile. “That’s good.”
Blake grinned and
teased, “I’d kiss you again, but you’d get soaked. I’d better go change real
quick.”
Brooke was sure her
face turned pink, but she had no one to blame for it but herself. Not that she
would actually
complain
. “Go change,
then.” As an afterthought, as he started down the hall, she asked, “Where are
your candles?”
****
Brooke sat in the sand, staring at the ocean as it lapped
at the beach, not really seeing the waves or hearing the crack as they crashed
down. It was a little before one o’clock on Saturday afternoon, and the sky was
clear. The storm that had shaken her up Thursday had all but blown itself out
by the time she’d left Blake’s house for work, but its effect still lingered.
And that wasn’t all that lingered. Since Thursday, and her impulsive kiss, she
had felt like her subconscious was on a never-ending roller coaster. One minute
she felt weirded out by that freak, unpredicted storm, and the next minute she
swore she could taste Blake on her lips like they’d only just broken apart.
She certainly wished that were the case.
Their first kiss had been an impulse, but their second and
third most definitely had not. After Blake had come back into the living room,
they’d realized with the power out there wasn’t much they could do in terms of
making progress on their project. Or perhaps some of that quick surrender had
had something to do with the kiss he’d wrapped her up in almost immediately.
Either way, they’d certainly made out on the sofa like a couple of fifteen year
olds taking advantage of their parents being away at work. And the body she’d
felt beneath the soft fabric of his shirt… She’d be lying if she implied she
didn’t want to see it first-hand in the near future.