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“Probably not much,” he mutters as another crack booms.
“Should we even be leaving?”
“You afraid of a little thunder, Princess?”
“No.”
His eyes take me in from tip to toe, before traveling back up again. “You sure you don't want to change?”
I glance down at the white lacy sundress. “I'll be fine in this.”
“Maybe grab a sweater or something.”
I glance down at my little dress again, and sigh. “I’ll be right back.”
Dropping my bag to the floor, I race back to my room. I pull a cozy, slouchy beige cardigan from the hanger in my closet, and shove my arms into it. Staring at myself in the mirror, I decide I could do worse. But I arrived at Tav’s with nothing more than two suitcases of clothes. It’s not like I had a whole lot to choose from, even though I’d tried to pack something for every occasion when I packed. Lucky for me, I have unlimited shopping at Laurier Lines, so I’m going to have to make some time to order myself some clothes to supplement what I brought with me when I ran.
Still, I look cute enough for tonight.
As I pass by the dresser, I nab the black scrunchie from the top and shove it onto my wrist. Just in case we do swim, and I don’t feel like getting my hair wet.
Hurrying back to Tav, I find he’s ready, boots on, big fingers tucked into the front pockets of dark jeans, waiting. He gives me another once over that I ignore as I slide my feet into strappy gold sandals. I don’t miss the fact I’m dressed all in creams, whites, and golds, while he is dressed head-to-toe in shades of black.
“Ready,” I announce to find him scowling down at me.
My heart quickens, but I tell myself I don’t care if he doesn’t like my outfit. I’m not his for real, so what does it matter, anyway?
But I know that's not true. I know, because even as I tell myself, I don't care, my belly feels tight and unpleasant at the thought he’s displeased.
“You look nice,” he tells me softly, surprising me.
I say nothing as I lift my bag. The man confuses me.
He studies me for an entire minute, my heart rioting against my feelings for him.
I feel the urge to break the tension with a smile, but it wouldn’t be real. Giving Tav my famous plastic smile feels wrong. So, I simply hold his eyes and wait.
Finally, he twists to open the door, gesturing me out first. It's not raining yet, but the scent is thick in the air. There is wind, though. It's humid and filled with salt. The sky is dark, the clouds ominous. They tumble fast in the sky overhead, as though racing toward their destination.
I chance another peek at Tav, my heart fluttering when I realize he's watching me.
“This is going to be an intense storm.” I hurry to the passenger side of his SUV just as the sound of the unlock mechanism thuds. I pull open his door and climb inside as another violent crash sounds in the sky. Lightning flashes and another rage of thunder booms.
Tav settles next to me, his dark eyes taking me in as he starts the engine. The scent of him permeates the space, and I struggle to hide the way I secretly indulge in that forbidden decadence.
We say nothing as we drive into the city, the storm growing angrier and angrier with every minute that passes. He pulls into a burger joint. “You hungry?”
“No.”
I can feel his eyes on the side of my face, but I don't look at him. “You haven't eaten, Olympia.”
“I'm aware.”
“You need to eat.”
“I'm not hungry, Tav. I don't eat when I'm not hungry.”
“You haven't eaten all day,” he points out. “Did you even eat breakfast?”
