AFTER THE RAIN (Bonus edition)

18. Third time the lucky number three

Inky black-y blackness.

Dark, black-black-y blackness.

Stormy had never liked black.

The color didn't suit her. Even when Lilly and her friends had gone through their very short-lived tortured-teen-gothic phase, with generous dollops of black eyeliner and black Nirvana nails, she had not.

She loved color. She needed color, like she needed sunshine and sunflowers and the pretty happy things in life. Butterflies and believing in unicorns and pots of gold at the end of rainbows.

Damien had once explained to her what a black hole was. She thought it was the most terrible thing she'd ever heard. Something that 'eats' light. A place that light goes to die.

The inside of the car felt like a black, dark, doomy-gloomy black hole, despite the fact that the sun was still shining outside. They'd been sitting in the motionless car watching the steam billow out of the engine for over an hour now, listening to the repetitive hiss and gurgle of the engine as Sammy went about healing her poor overheated self.

She wondered what exactly Damien had said to Marcus, because since that conversation, he'd been ignoring her. He'd gone from savaging her sexually to not looking at her once. But what Lilly had said to her, that Marcus might actually like her, that they might be perfect for each other, had made Stormy want to look at him. A lot.

But it was clear that Lilly had been very, very wrong. Because it now seemed like Marcus liked her less than he had when they first met. Stormy usually didn't care what people thought of her –– but for some reason, she cared now.

She was desperate to know what Marcus was thinking. They needed to talk. Now.

"Okay, let's get out of the car!" she said, opening her door and climbing out. Marcus didn't move, though, and just gave her a quick sideways glance that communicated a very loud 'NO'.

"Marcus. Get out of the car. We need to talk," she spat the words out, trying to sound as firm and forceful as possible.

"I am not getting out of the car, Stormy!"

"We live in a democracy, and I say get out of the car." She folded her arms in angry defiance.

"That's an autocracy. Not a democracy."

"Well, I don't even know what that means, so it can't be."

"Stormy," he sounded angry. "That is the worst logic I have ever heard! That's what's wrong with you, nothing about you makes any sense..."

Stormy gasped loudly as his words stung her. "What? You think there's something wrong with me?"

"Sorry, that's not what I meant, I meant to say –" He paused, and Stormy could almost hear his brain ticking away like a loud alarm clock. "There's nothing wrong with you. But there's something wrong with me when I'm around you."

"See, that's why we need to talk. So get out or I will force you out with the power of my mind."

Marcus's neck almost snapped off as he swung his head around to look at her. "You can do that?"

Stormy tutted. "No, don't be ridiculous! I'm not a poltergeist!"

Marcus sighed. "Fine. I need some shade anyway." Marcus climbed out, striding across the road like he was in charge and in control – when clearly he wasn't. They sat under a large Baobab tree. The trunk was enormous – it would have taken at least ten people holding hands to wrap around it – and the massive branches fanned out like a giant umbrella, providing deliciously cool shade.

Stormy wasted no time getting back to the topic. "What did you mean, there's something wrong with you when you're around me?"

***

This was the question that Marcus had been dreading. He'd regretted saying it, but he had. "I feel..." He started slowly, choosing his words very carefully like the lawyer in him would. "...you have this effect on me, and when I'm near you, I feel... I want to be nearer. A lot nearer."

He didn't know how else to describe it. And this seemed like the safest way, without revealing too much of the feeling that was rising up inside him. He'd meant what he'd said to Damien: he liked her. It was like she'd cast some kind of spell over him, and it wasn't just sexual – it was something else too, something deeper.

"I feel the same way," Stormy said softly.

Marcus doubted that very much. Because Stormy didn't really know how Marcus felt. "I know we've said this before, and it never seems to stick... but we really should not be doing this. And I'm getting as bored with saying that as hearing the word 'chakra'." Despite the mood, he smiled to himself slightly, because now he was saying that bloody word too. "We need to stop doing this."

"Why?"

Because I like you and I don't want to risk liking you a lot and being discarded after six weeks – that's what his brain said, but his mouth opened and said something else entirely. "Because this is not me. I don't go around having sex with random women. It's not my thing..."

He wished he knew what Stormy was thinking; she'd picked up a stick and was drawing something in the sand. He watched until the lines stared forming a recognizable image. A sun with a smiling face.

The picture brought the smallest smile to his face. She was so... so... he didn't have the words... so Stormy.

Innocent (though not in bed or on bathroom floors).

Smart (but not in a conventional way).

A literal burst of color, a ray of sunshine.

Fuck! This was not good.

"Please," he tried to hide the desperation in his voice, but it wasn't working that well. "Can we promise not to do this any more?"

"You kissed me," Stormy reminded him, putting the finishing touches on the puffy clouds and what he assumed were birds, but looked more like plus signs.

"You reciprocated." He needed to point that out. Because she had.

Stormy simply nodded and Marcus continued to watch, oddly intrigued, as she started drawing two stick figures in the sand. One had long hair – at least he thought it was hair – and the other had big shoes.

"What's that?"

"It's us... and look," she added arms to the stick figures. "We're shaking hands in agreement. That way, we don't have to touch again." Marcus smiled to himself – a problem solved in true Stormy fashion.

"We shook on it before. Twice," he offered. "Remember? It didn't really stick."

"You know what they say. Third time is the lucky number three."

"Lucky number seven," Marcus corrected with a smile. "Third time lucky."

"What's seven go to do with this?" She looked up at him and their eyes met. She shouldn't have done that. His heart tapped-danced in his chest. A feeling rising...

"So we agree?" she asked, pointing the stick back at her picture, which now seemed to be boasting a rainbow and a giraffe.

"We agree." Marcus said. They had to stop, because this thing with Stormy felt out of control; he felt out of control. He needed to do something that put him back in his comfort zone, and if there was one thing he was good at, it was getting things done.

"Come. We need to make a plan to get out of here."

"How?"

"I once spent the summer with a friend whose father fixed cars. I'm going to go and take a look under Sammy's bonnet." (He couldn't quite believe he'd just called that sad ensemble of metal parts a name!).