Come What May

29. uncharted territory

warning: sexual harassment.

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CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

UNCHARTED TERRITORY

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• sunday, may 2nd •

We haven't spoken about it.

We haven't spoken about Storm's if I was good at expressing my feelings, we'd be having a very different conversation, Asif and we haven't spoken about how confused they make me.

Over the past two days, I racked my brain over what they could have meant, whether I was missing something, whether I was supposed to reply to them or brush it aside, and finally, I came to the conclusion that Storm is... a flirt.

I've witnessed it firsthand— the slight quirk of their lips and the eyebrow raise that they gave me when they first met me, the twinkle that overcomes their eyes when they make jokes related to crushes and relationships, the lilt their voice takes when they talk about things that I have zero experience in.

Of course, there's a high chance that they were serious. But I'm not willing to bring it up, not right now, when I, myself, am unsure of what exactly happens to my heart every time I talk to them.

All I know is that Storm can be the nicest person I've ever met, and if they really do like me, like they say they do, they're going to have to be more explicit, because I don't want to risk losing them, not when they're the nicest person I know.

They're nice most of the time, if not all the time, but sometimes, they're genuinely the nicest. Sometimes, no one can even begin to compare to them.

Like that day at the party that I still remember. The one that I desperately wish I could forget. Like that day of the nude shoot that, again, I desperately wish I could forget. Like that day we got drunk together that I desperately wish I could remember. Like last week, like this week, like right now.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Rolling my eyes, I glance at them and their crouched down frame that's staring up at me. "I'm fine," I mumble, only a half-truth. "I was just dizzy, I haven't had water all day."

It isn't entirely a lie— I am dizzy. Just not for the reason I told them. I've been drinking water like it's my religion so that I don't pass out while we walk through the three p.m. crowds of San Diego, and they know that I've been drinking water. So there's no way they're going to believe me.

The plan was simple. Meet at my place, explore San Diego because neither of us has seen the inside of any place that isn't the park, the beach or the studio, get some ice cream, go back home.

Getting groped wasn't a part of the plan.

I hate this. I hate this so much. That was so scary.

Of course, Storm doesn't buy my "I haven't had water all day" excuse. I don't see why they would buy it, when I'm the worst liar to exist and when I was so obvious about my discomfort.

Normally, I would be embarrassed, maybe even a little mad at myself, that I'm ruining Storm and I's outing, but rationally and irrationally, I know that someone groping me in the midst of a crowd isn't exactly my fault.

"Are you sure?" Storm repeats, but I know what they mean to convey with those words. You don't have to tell me what happened if you don't want to, but are you okay?