The Fates (Book I) - 2014 Watty Award Winner!

5.9 - Awakened

Dear Readers: Let's catch up with Prof and Miss Primor (#Treliese)!

Also - in case any of you didn't know - Book I of The Fates is drawing to a close!! After this scene, there are only three more. Thank you so much for following thus far!! I've been seriously blown away by the amazing support for this story from all of you beloved fans. Incredibly grateful for all my dear Fatefuls! Hope you'll enjoy the last few upFates :) ♥

___________________

Scene 9: Awakened

A.D. 2015

“Wow.”

“What is it, dear?”

Trevor blinked up at the evening sky outside their hotel window. Spoke as if in some sort of trance. “Clouds. Big, dark, stormy clouds.”

She smiled at her fiancé’s fascination. “Never seen those before?”

He shook his head, still staring. “Hardly ever in Greece. The climate’s nearly always cloudless, especially this season. It’s just—I don’t know…” he finally tore his eyes away and came to sit beside her on the sofa, “…they just appeared so suddenly, as if out of thin air.”

“And where do you suppose clouds are supposed to come from?”

He let out a bashful chuckle. “Well, hey—you're marrying a professor of philosophy and the classics, not a meteorologist…”

She ran a fond hand through his golden-brown curls. “Quite true. A genius who says the most adorably stupid things sometimes…”

Trevor blushed, responding like a puppy to her touch. “Don’t patronize just because you’ve never said a stupid thing in all your life.”

“Don’t flatter just because you love me,” she cooed, leaning in to drop a soft kiss on his rosy cheek. “Or do, if you want to. It’s very cute.”

He turned to face her, ready for another kiss or two, but she had already withdrawn from the brief embrace. Rose from the couch to pour glasses of water for the both of them. Trevor’s foot began to thump upon the plush carpeted floor. Why did she always have to have something to drink? He wasn’t even thirsty. Not for ice water, at least.

“Anyhow—I just might be about to tell you something that may sound incredibly stupid,” Charliese announced, gracefully scooping ice from the recently replenished bucket into two glass tumblers.

Trevor’s interest was piqued, though he was still more interested in doing things right now rather than hearing what she had to say.

“You do trust me completely, Trev, don’t you?” she asked in a suspiciously innocent tone, in tune with the clink of cubed ice against glass. “Were I to tell you something, anything—would you believe it?”

He furrowed his brow, quizzical and somewhat spooked. “Well, that depends… if you were to tell me that Plato was born before Socrates…”

“I am serious, Trevor,” she cut in, fetching a bottle of spring water from the minibar. “If I tell you something, in earnest, which I know to be true with every fiber of my soul—you will believe me, yes?”

Having filled their cups, returning to the sofa now, she fixed a firm gaze on him as she set both glasses down upon the coffee table.

Looking into those storm-greys, mute as they ever rendered him, he was vaguely aware of his head bobbing in a slow and stupid nod.

The steely depths lightened as a warm smile spread across Charliese’s face. “Good. Make yourself comfortable, dear, and please try to relax.”