Overture (Rain Dance, Book 1) (Rain Dance Series) (31 page)

     
We spent the
rest of the night on my bed consuming more sugar, listening to music, and
talking quietly. While here in my room with me, it was hard to imagine Ethan as
the man who sat in his office ruling his own little empire with an
authoritative mask. Here, he was just a man. Well, that was a lie. He would
never be
just a man
. Still, it was almost as though he was just as human
as I.

     
As agreed, I
asked him all kinds of questions. Simple questions, but important just the
same.

     
"What's
your favorite color?"

     
"Really?
That's what you want to know?"

     
I nodded
excitedly.

     
"Black,
probably," he eventually replied before biting into the outer shell of his
Drumstick.

     
"Favorite
season?"

   
  
"I never really thought about it before. Do you
have one?"

     
"Fall.
Spring gets lots of rain, though, so it's probably a close second. I can't
stand summer - anything above ninety degrees and I can't function. When over a
hundred, I pray for sudden death. How do you feel about the weather here?"

     
"I used to
find it quite dull. But I'm starting to see that it has its perks."

     
"Like?"

     
"Like the
look it puts on your face."

     
"Aw...You're making me feel all kinds of fuzzy."

     
We woke up the
next morning just a few minutes apart. Both of us had managed to fit on the
small twin-size bed just fine, although Ethan's feet dangled off the edge just
a bit. He had slept in only his boxer shorts, but he hadn't attempted to make
any moves on me. Feeling his bare chest pressed up against me, I almost
wished he had. He was hard, warm, and smelled like…home?
That's it - that's
the familiar scent. He smells of the sea. Clean. Crisp. Airy, and with just a
hint of saltiness.
It was a bit different from the ocean scent I was so
used to, though. His held more of a wet, earthy tone. I breathed in deeply,
wishing that time would stop.

     
"It gets
really cold in here," he mumbled.

     
"I like it
cold. It heightens the coziness you feel when trying to get warm." I
snuggled up against him, trying to get closer.

     
"It'll
make you sick."

     
"The cold
air would never do such a thing."

     
He left just
before noon, leaving me feeling light-headed and dizzy after a slow and
sensuous kiss. We'd both agreed to start taking things at a semi-normal pace
from now on. He was sure that the end result would be the same regardless,
whatever that meant. I, on the other hand, knew better. But I couldn't tell him
that.

     
The funny thing
was that after last night…I almost wanted to. For a moment, I almost believed
that maybe it would be okay. Maybe he would still feel the same about me once
he knew. And maybe I could stop running and fight back for once in my life.

     
It was a pretty
big maybe, though.

     
Dale exited his
room about an hour later with massive bed hair and a loud yawn. I was in the
living room munching on another ice cream, trying to find something to watch.

     
"Morning,
Baby."

     
"Morning."

     
He went into
the kitchen and returned with his own Drumstick, plopping down onto the couch
beside me.

     
"How did
it go last night?" I asked.

     
"Good." He was quiet for a few seconds, but then a large and
boyish grin spread across his face. "Really good."

     
"You'll be
seeing her again, then?"

     
He nodded.
"Wednesday night."

     
"Congrats.
I really like her."

     
"Yeah,
that makes two of us," he laughed. "Things go alright with you and
Big?"

     
"Oh my
God,
please
stop calling him that!" I grabbed a pillow and shoved
it at him.

     
He blocked it,
his laughter intensifying. "Sure, sure. Judging by the shitload of ice
cream in the freezer, I'd say everything is okay...?"

     
"Yeah. We
had a talk."

     
"…A talk?
Like...
the
talk?"

     
I shook my
head. "Just little things. I don't want to bring up any heavy shit. Not so
early on."

     
He nodded and
patted my head before relaxing into the couch. Dale wasn't aware of what the
talk - the
official
one - actually entailed, not exactly, but he
knew there was a history. He and his family had seen the bruises. But he never
asked, which I was grateful for. Even if he had, I never would've been able to
tell him.

     
"Sunday
morning TV is the worst," I complained.

     
"I know. I
shoulda brought the Playstation. You going out at all today?"

     
"No, I'm
still too burnt out from yesterday. I was thinking about making enchiladas. We
haven't used the sauce yet."

     
"I can
help with the chicken," he offered. "I know you hate that part."

     
"Yes,
please."

     
The rest of the
day passed slowly. Rather than wait until later, we got started on dinner early
so we could have the entire evening to eat and mess around. Coops wanted to
play a board game, but I wasn't quite ready to give Cat-opoly another go just
yet. After wanting to know why, I had to explain to him how badly Ethan had
whooped my ass at it. Instead, we settled for three games of Uno - two of which
I won, some Jenga, and then Scrabble to finish off the rest of the night.
Although he was on my mind throughout the day, especially during the last game,
I managed to keep myself from texting Ethan any gushy nonsense.

     
The next few
days went by in a sort of quiet bliss. I was making significant progress on my
angels, but was careful not to rush it - the attention to details would end up
making all the difference in how the finished piece turned out.

     
Ethan had come
to see me in the late afternoon on Monday. He held me on his lap in the break
room for a good fifteen minutes before he had to leave again.

     
"Will you
have dinner with me tomorrow night?" he asked.

     
"Of
course."

     
There was a
slight pause before he continued hesitantly, "Outside of my place?"

     
"Yes," I smiled. "I know I said the idea made me nervous,
and it does, but it's also exciting. I feel safe with you. What should I wear?
Jeans and a hoodie? A bikini top and daisy dukes?"

   
  
He kissed the top of my head. "A dress would be
preferable."

     
"Where are
we going?"

     
"Somewhere
near water."

     
That made me
happy. "I love water."

     
"Yes, I
know."

     
I was glad I
had dressed appropriately, as it turned out to be exactly the kind of
restaurant one would expect the head of Luxadigm Industries to dine at. Our
table was sectioned off in its own private corner overlooking the lake. It was
beautiful. I let Ethan order the wine since my experience was limited to zero,
having never tried any before.

     
When it
arrived, I carefully raised my glass, gently swirling the liquid inside to
examine the contents. Trying to remain subtle, I took a small whiff, not
knowing what to expect. I was a bit confused when I made out the smell of
vanilla and some sort of familiar wood. Slowly, I took a small sip, making sure
to hold the liquid on my tongue for a few moments so I could get a good taste
before I swallowed. I was pleasantly surprised by how fruity it was.

     
"You've
never had wine before, yet you drink like you've been tasting for years,"
he stated questioningly.

     
"That's
how they do it in the movies," I replied, feeling both pleased and
sheepish over the fact that he'd noticed.

     
I would've been
happy eating a TV dinner or the leftover enchiladas from the other day, but I
could not deny that the food here was on a whole other level in terms of
quality. It wasn't just a meal, it was an experience. My very own sit-down
adventure.

     
It wasn't
planned, but later that night I was still feeling quite adventurous. I ended up
wanting to taste Ethan like I had the wine. He didn't let me go home until the
next morning.

     
The following
night was Dale's date with Samantha. I had gone out for a quick lunch with her
earlier that day. There were a number of moments where we didn't speak, but
that was alright. We were both obviously very comfortable with silence, so we
were able to sit eating our Banana Splits in trusted confidence. She did have a
few questions about Coops, of course. Much to my joy, she was finally becoming
a little more forthcoming. I also tried to casually pick up a few random
tidbits about her without seeming too obvious.

     
"Her
favorite color is lilac," I told Dale when I got back to the apartment
later that day. "Her favorite season is spring. She loves the smell of
mixed flowers and prefers dogs over cats - like you. She's a big fan of British
TV shows, did you know? Also, she can tie a cherry stem with her tongue,"
I winked at him, remembering how she had absentmindedly displayed her flexible
talents, only to blush when I pointed out, somewhat enviously, what she had
just done.