After the Rain (The Twisted Fate Series Book 1) (12 page)

Stormy rolled her eyes at Marcus and he returned the look with a bemused shake of his head. She liked the way their arguing had transformed into playful teasing. She was starting to feel very comfortable with him.

“Here,” Marcus took out his phone and handed it to her. Stormy took it, feeling like she was handling a syringe infected with the plague. “I don’t know how to use these e-phones.”

“It’s an iPhone, but close enough,” he said, smiling.

Marcus moved in closer, and Stormy felt his shoulder touch hers as he stood next to her and held the phone out in front of them for the tutorial. Stormy took a slight – and very unnecessary – step closer to Marcus. She liked the feel of his shoulder next to hers.

“See, this is the camera. Hold it up, press this button,” he demonstrated by turning it on her, “and there. We have a photo.”

“And how do I see it?” Stormy asked, staring at the shiny contraption with no buttons – that had always mystified her. Buttons. You needed buttons, people.

“Like this.” Marcus showed her how to find the phone’s photo album and her picture popped up. “And you can scroll through them by doing this,” he said as he moved his finger across the screen and the next picture popped up.

Stormy felt like someone had poked her in the ribs. The screen was suddenly filled with the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. She was the kind of woman who could literally stop traffic, with her long red locks and pouty lips. She had that whole 1950s bombshell thing going on – curvy and elegant. She was wearing a skintight red dress, showing off perhaps the biggest breasts that had even grown on a woman’s chest. Her waist was tiny, her hips rounded and her shapely legs were so damn
long
. She was looking into the camera seductively, there was no two ways about it. She had her hand up and her finger was beckoning the photographer closer. Her eyes were screaming bedroom words – dirty words. Filthy words. The photographer was Marcus, and this was one of those pictures that shouted “have sex with me
now
”.

“Uh… wh-who’s that?” Stormy stuttered a little. She hadn’t meant to.

“Um,” Marcus sounded tentative too, as if he hadn’t meant for her to see the picture. And why would he? It was a photograph taken seconds before hot sex, with a very hot woman. “Emily. My ex,” he explained.

“She’s very beautiful,” Stormy managed, but barely. She was too busy picturing this woman on top of him, her ridiculous boobs bobbing up and down. (Those things could probably take someone’s eye out if she wasn’t careful.)

“I guess she is,” Marcus muttered, and quickly flicked back to Stormy’s picture.

“So… how long have you been broken up?” Stormy couldn’t quite believe she actually cared so much and was venturing down this line of questioning.

“Two weeks.”

“So recently.” She didn’t like the way those words had sounded. They came out fast and desperate, sounding like someone who might be jealous. Which she was not!

No, definitely not jealous. Because that would just be ridiculous. That would mean she actually liked him in that way or something, which obviously she didn’t…
Obviously.

Marcus was finding this conversation very awkward, especially given the nature of the photo – there was no misinterpreting it. No mistaking that look Emily had in her eye. He remembered exactly what had happened the second he put the phone down and walked towards her… At the time, he’d considered Emily to be one of the sexiest women he’d ever met, not to mention the best in bed (by far); but now, all that had changed.

“It was a long time coming, the break-up,” Marcus explained, trying to smooth things over. For some desperate reason, he didn’t want Stormy to think he was pining for someone else. “I’m totally over her, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Stormy turned to face him. “Why would I be worried if you were over her?” She sounded indignant.

“Um…” Marcus was grappling for a reason. “Just in case you think I was, um…” He sighed, giving up. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“I mean, it’s not like that matters to me,” Stormy responded, shrugging. “It’s not like I care if you are in love with her and thinking about her and her big, big breasts in that red dress and stuff like that.” Marcus couldn’t help but think she was being a little overly-insistent.
The lady doth protest too much…

“No. Of course. Because this isn’t a thing or anything.” Marcus had jumped on the defensive bandwagon along with Stormy.

“Exactly. This thing going on between us is just a –”

“It’s not even going on anymore,” Marcus added quickly.

“Exacto-mundo!” Stormy exclaimed.

“And it’s not like we’re into each other or anything,” he continued.

“Totes.”

“Yes.”

“It’s like, we had sex twice and now we’re road trip buddies,” Stormy offered, holding up her hand for a high-five.
How ridiculous
, he thought, but he obliged her with one. It felt so awkward and frat boy-ish. Without the boy element.

“Exactly.”

“Exactly.”

“So true.”

“True.”

“Yes. So, so totally true.”

“Totally…”

But the way they were looking at each other, and the way their words were getting softer and slower and more breathy, told a different story. Marcus was under no illusions – they were definitely trying to fool themselves. He wasn’t sure what on earth they
were
, but it wasn’t road trip buddies who gave each other friendly high-fives, that’s for sure.

Stormy cleared her throat, breaking the strange spell that had fallen over them. “What’s that thing that Lilly is always doing with her phone… where she holds the phone and takes a photo of herself… a selfie?”

Marcus was momentarily confused by the total change in the direction of the conversation, and it took him a few seconds to compute. “You want to take a selfie?”

“Yes, with the giraffes in the background!”

“Sure.” Marcus held the phone up and they moved closer together. As he pressed the button, Stormy smiled and put her head on his shoulder.

The giraffes behind them made a sudden noise, and Stormy turned to lean against the fence and investigate. Marcus looked at his phone and flicked through the pictures.

Fuck,
she was beautiful.

He zoomed in on her face and stared at her features.

He flicked to the picture of Emily again and looked at her – looked at the woman that ninety percent of the men in the world would find hot. She did nothing for him anymore.

He flicked back to Stormy. Sweet, smiling Stormy…

Seriously beautiful.

T. T. T.

15

Ducks of a feather

Stormy didn’t like it one little bit. Not at all. Nada. Nooo-
dle.
She sat in the car, that woman’s face burned into her brain. Her red-headed seductiveness, her pouty-licious lips that begged to be nibbled on, her abundant bust reminiscent of large undulating hills, that Barbie Doll waist and blue-eyed glint. That was the worst part – those big, blue come-hither eyes. You knew what she wanted! And you knew what Marcus was about to give her. The thought repulsed her, even more than scatter cushions and flat screen televisions.

And the way she’d seen Marcus stare at the picture after they’d taken their selfie together, when he thought she’d been looking at the giraffes. Awe. He’d been gaping. Open-mouthed even. He was longing to paw her again – it was obvious. Stormy felt like he was cheating on her in some weird way. Last night he’d been hers, but he’d probably only been thinking of the red-headed temptress. She wanted to know so badly… But how could she broach the topic without sounding all jelly?

“So, shame… A break-up, hey?” Ambiguous. Pointed in the right direction, yet discreet and friendly sounding. Or not, judging by the look that had just swished across Marcus’s face.

“Huh?”

“Your ex, hey. Two weeks ago, huh? Harsh. Hectic. I mean, shame. Sorry dude.” That had sounded a bit too staccato for her liking. And she’d said ‘dude’! Maybe she wasn’t doing such a great job of hiding her feelings after all.

“Not really. It wasn’t working, for me anyway,” Marcus said, eying Stormy suspiciously. She had a feeling he was starting to see where the conversation was going, and she noticed a tiny smile on his face. Was he thinking of those perfectly rounded hips? Stormy had always wanted a bit more meat on her bones, but alas, she could eat like a sailor and never put on weight.

“Why the sudden interest?” he asked.

“No reason. Just, you know, thinking out loud per say, etcetera, and so forth,” she replied in what she hoped was a vague, innocent tone.

“About what?”

“Nothing really! Just thought I would offer condolences.”

“She’s not dead,” Marcus smirked.

“No, but you look like you miss her.” Marcus slowed the car down and turned to look at Stormy properly.

“Why do you say that?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Just the way you were looking at her picture on your phone. You looked sad, like you love her but can’t have her, in that whole parting-is-such-sweet-sorrow-Romeo-and-Juliet-drinking-poison kind of way. That’s all.”

Marcus found himself in an interesting predicament. A part of him wanted to tell Stormy that he’d been looking at a picture of her, but how could he admit to that?

“You must have misinterpreted the look. I was actually thinking how angry I was with her,” he lied.

“No, I didn’t. I don’t misinterpret looks,” she insisted. “I’m a theatre actress, remember. I know looks, Marcus. I can
see
looks.”

“You were far away, standing by the fence,” he countered.

“I can read people like a page, Marcus.”

“Like a book.”

“Stop changing the subject. I can
see
it.” She was getting increasingly agitated, and for some reason, the thought that Stormy was jealous of Emily sent a little thrill up his spine.

“See what?”

“You’re longing for her.”

“I swear to you, I’m not.”

Stormy scoffed loudly. “Okay, fine. Pick a card.” She pulled a pack of Tarot cards out of her handbag. They looked old, worn and grubby – she obviously took them everywhere. “The cards never lie,” she said imperiously. “They will uncover the truth.”

“That’s ridiculous, Stormy.”

“Are you afraid to reveal your true feelings?”

“No. And if you are going to make a single reference to my chakras right now, I might just –”

She cut him off. “Then just pick a card, Marcus.”

“Whatever.” Marcus sighed loudly and pulled a random card from the pack she was holding out to him. It was absolutely ridiculous, of course, but he didn’t have much of a choice – she had practically shoved them up his nose while he was trying to drive. They had a strange smell, too – like something old and dusty. He almost sneezed.

Stormy gasped when she saw the card Marcus had chosen. “The Star. I knew it.”

“Please… what does that mean? It doesn’t prove anything,” Marcus said dismissively, thinking how truly stupid this whole exercise was. He was shocked that he was even participating in it.

“Um…” she swiveled her head dramatically and looked at him knowingly. “The Star signifies hope, expectation, promises and opportunities not fulfilled, desires disappointed,” she rattled off.

“You’re making that up.” There was no way it meant that.

“Am not. Why don’t you check it on the world wide web you’re so fond of, if you don’t believe me.”

Marcus looked over at her, torn between exasperation and the desire to laugh. Who the hell said “world wide web” anymore? That was
so
Stormy.

He pulled the car over to the side of the road and whipped his phone out. The reception was painfully slow, but he eventually found what he was looking for and started reading the meaning of the card out loud.

“Oh… Hope, expectation, promises and opportunities not fulfilled, desires disappointed… I see.”

Stormy crossed her arms and looked at him triumphantly.

Marcus had no idea how it had happened, that he’d pulled out the card that proved everything Stormy had been trying to say – it was obviously total fluke and a coincidence, but he knew Stormy believed in that crap and he didn’t want her thinking that he was longing for his ex.

“Maybe I wasn’t looking at her picture,” he said, cringing at the coyness in his own voice.

“Oh…” She sounded shocked. “So you have pictures of
other
women on that phone, then.”

“No, just one other woman.”

He looked at Stormy pointedly, and her eyes came up to meet his. Something flashed between them. Something that pulsed with charge and made him want to reach over and kiss her… and God knows what else.

“You were looking at me?” Stormy asked shyly, not taking her eyes off him.

Marcus felt himself blush. He didn’t think he’d ever blushed like this before in his entire life, and the thought that he was acting like some silly, swooning maiden in a Victorian novel only served to deepen his embarrassment. His head suddenly felt hot and it wasn’t from the sun outside.

“I was, actually.” He might as well say it, since she had painted him into a bright neon corner.

“Why?” She sounded genuinely astounded.

“I told you. I think you’re really beautiful.”

Silence.

Pin dropping. Audible pitter-patter of mice feet across the floor. Shuffling of dust mites on a pillow. Stormy could hear it all, because the silence was very silence-y. She was at a loss for words, which was a rare thing for her. Marcus thought she was beautiful – so beautiful, in fact, that he’d looked at her picture with that sad, longing sort of look on his face.

Odd wasn’t it? Mr. Legal Law Guy, with his starched collars, fat credit cards and shiny leather shoes, and a big fancy car no doubt, like one of those Lambochinos or BNWs. He probably had a color-coded closet and personal grooming habits that took longer than hers – he probably waxed off his chest hair, for Shiva’s sake. He was everything she didn’t like. So why was her heart jumping and jiving and her breath quickening? Why was her face growing hot, her palms getting moist and a little girly smile curling the corners of her mouth?

“Thanks…” she said, finally breaking the silence. She lowered her head, feeling coy, and a few strands of hair fell in front of her face. Suddenly Marcus stretched across and she felt him tuck the strands behind her ear. “Thanks,” Stormy was enjoying the feel of his fingertips on her face. “You’re quite handsome yourself…” She put on a jokey tone. “Even though you’re not my type at all!” She looked up at him and smiled playfully.

“Of course not!” Marcus’s tone was also playful.

“I usually go for guys who wear hand-me-down knitted jerseys that granny made.”

“And tie-dyed cotton pants,” Marcus added.

“Preferably with bells on the bottom,” she smirked.

“Who make a living doing weird street magic.”

“Or busking.”

They both smiled at each other for a while.

“And why do you go for guys like that, Stormy?” Suddenly the playfulness was gone and Marcus was looking very serious.

She shrugged, feeling a little perplexed at the question – she’d never really thought about it. “I don’t know. Ducks of a feather.”

“Birds,” Marcus corrected with a grin. “Well, I think you’re selling yourself short. You can do much better than guys who can’t provide for you.”

Stormy felt genuinely taken aback by his comment. “Providing is not everything. There’s more to relationships than that.”

“But don’t you want the whole package one day? Husband, kids, house, a comfortable life?”

Stormy shook her head immediately. “No ways. I’m not the settling down type of gal. That’s not my thing. At all.”

Marcus met her gaze. “So you don’t want kids one day?”

“No, no, no! I’d make a terrible mother. Besides, my tortoise, Elvis, is enough.”

“I didn’t think you were into Elvis?”

“I’m not. But he’s the reincarnation of Elvis –”

Marcus cut her off. “Okay. Of course he is. But you don’t want more?” he seemed to be pressing her.

“Nah, no kiddies for me. Definitely not.”

Marcus was genuinely surprised. He thought, Stormy would make a great mother – she was caring, loving and fun. Sure, she would probably be the kind of mom who taught her kids words and phrases that didn’t make sense, and encouraged them not to follow all the rules, but rather make their own up. She would probably never be able to organize a birthday party, or if she did, not serve cake, but rather homemade vegan treats. She’d probably make the kids eat veggies from the organic veggie garden she had in the backyard, and not let them near a McDonalds. She’d probably not let them watch TV either, and instead do puppet shows for them with puppets made from old socks with buttons for eyes… He suddenly found himself smiling at the thought.

Hang on.

Why was he even thinking about what kind of mother she would be? Had he completely lost his mind? He looked over at her. The sun was shining on her porcelain skin, her eyes were even greener in the light and the pink and purple strands of hair framing her face were drawing attention to her flushed cheeks. She smiled at him, a warm, open smile. Innocent. Marcus smiled back.

The capital ‘T’ for Trouble now needed to be bolded and underlined. Throw in a few exclamation marks too, and maybe highlight it in red. Perhaps make it glow neon in the dark, too. It should also probably make a loud screeching sound and flash like a lighthouse.

Uh-oh…