Strangers in the Storm ✔

Chapter 3: Tender Hearts

Roxanne threw her hands around his neck and pulled him closer. His tongue darted across her lower lip and she let out a sigh. Pinned between Damien's body and the elevator wall, Roxanne wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him even closer.

Damien cleared his throat and laughed, "We're here."

"Sorry." Roxanne giggled and put her legs down.

Damien took her hand and led her to his apartment. A large area opened up in front of her. The living room, the dining room and the kitchen were connected, the space bigger than her entire apartment where she still lived with her parents. A pang of jealousy bit her veins as she took in the view.

The apartment's large windows, covering the entire eastern wall, overlooked the city underneath. Roxanne glanced out, enjoying the feeling of standing above the flickering streetlights and the busy traffic.

Damien threw his jacket on the black leather corner sofa and put his keys, wallet and Blue Label on the glass coffee table. Roxanne watched him as he strolled to the dark-wood kitchen; clean and barely used, and pulled out two whiskey glasses from the top cabinet.

"Make yourself comfortable." He said and disappeared through one of the white doors, probably the bathroom.

Roxanne sat on the couch, the leather glued to her naked thighs, cool against her skin. Her gaze skittered across the flat screen across the sofa, the huge, black stereo next to it, and the picture frames resting on the shelves above it. Roxanne stood up and approached the pictures.

Smiling faces awaited on each picture; Damien surfing on tropical islands, Damien dressed in a ski gear, snow-covered mountains behind him, Damien visiting strange, exotic places. He's seen the entire world. Every picture showed him with different people, all smiling widely at the camera.

Once he exited the bathroom, he approached her with two glasses of whiskey.

Roxanne laughed, "I can't believe you took the bottle from the bar."

"What can I say? I'm living frugally."

"Where is this?" Roxanne pointed at the picture of Damien with a surfboard, surrounded by a group of children.

"Waikiki, Hawaii." He answered, his hand gently wrapping around her waist, "I spent a summer there teaching kids how to surf."

Roxanne's eyes widened with surprise, "Really?"

He didn't struck her as a man who spent his summers doing something like that.

"Uh-huh." He nodded. "I'm a surf instructor over summer and a ski instructor over winter."

"Yet, you say you're unemployed." Roxanne laughed.

He shrugged, "I get bored quickly."

"Probably because you can have whatever you want." Roxanne shut her mouth the moment the words slipped out, but it was too late.

Damien squinted, "Do you ever think before you speak?"

"I guess not." Roxanne stepped away from the pictures with a sigh. "I've had a lot of trouble in school because of it, to be honest. My teachers hated me."

She sat on the couch, finding herself wanting to prolong the conversation.

"Well, my teachers hated me because I was a pretentious douche. Your excuse is better, at least you spoke your mind." Damien sat next to her and draped his arms over the backrest.

"There's a difference between speaking your mind and spouting out every bitchy thing that comes to mind." Roxanne shrugged. "I once called my English teacher a 'frustrated cat lady' because she wouldn't allow wearing short skirts to school."