He is the most stunning man I’ve ever seen.
Whatever he is, I don’t care.
I’ve never felt safer.
“I’m fifty.”
My mouth drops open in shock. “Fifty? Wow! You look great for your age. My Dad isn’t much older than you.”
“Aw, Sugar, don’t say that. Don’t make me feel old.”
We laugh together in the quiet night, the tension between us lessening while something else—something hotter—gains strength.
“You’re not going to tell me how you’re fifty, are you?”
“Tomorrow.”
“You have to be careful about tomorrows,” I say, flipping onto my back to stare up at the constellations again.
“Why is that?” He readjusts too, keeping our hands interlocked, and his arm pressed against mine.
“They might not ever come.”
He says nothing, and I’m worried I crossed a line. “It’s why I hate storm chasers. It’s why it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around what you do. I told myself I was done with anyone who chased clouds.”
I slap his arm with a bit more force than I meant to. “Don’t be disrespectful. It’s more than chasing clouds. You make it sound like a waste of time when our data, my photos, the way we talk to our viewers, it all matters. It’s all about keeping people informed.”
“I know that,” he exhales, and I turn to see so many emotions gleam in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s why when you first met me, you were so angry. You really do hate chasers, don’t you? Why do you live here, then? In the middle of Tornado Alley, seems to be the worst place to be for someone who is afraid of storms.”
He swivels his head, bright carmine daggers narrow at me. “You think that’s what it is? That I’m afraid of storms? Like I’m a child who needs to cover his head with a blanket when thunder rolls outside? No, no, that’s not why I hate storms.”
He gets to his feet, lacing his hands behind his head as he stares into space. Dropping his arms by his side. “You wouldn’t understand,” he mutters.
Flattening my hands on the roof, I push myself to stand. “Then, talk to me. Enlighten me.”
“I can’t.”
I grind my teeth together, impatience building next. “You can. You’re choosing not to, Oklahoma. There’s a difference.”
He charges at me, the red suns brighter somehow. I step back, afraid for the first time since meeting him. I tremble with fear.
Oklahoma stops midstep, devastation deflating his anger. His eyes shift into a familiar blue. “You’re afraid of me. I can smell it. Your fear.”
My heart thumps in wild, chaotic drums. “You took me by surprise, that’s all. You came at me fast. You don’t move like a normal person.” He’s fast and smooth with his motions, unlike humans, who have a clunkiness to them when they move.
He flexes his hands as if he is stopping himself from reaching out to me. “I’m not a normal person. You need to understand that.”
I groan, beyond annoyed at him. “You’re unbelievable. You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I feel that? That you’re different from anyone I’ve ever met? Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. I am here. I’m trying to get to know you. It’s you who won’t let me!” I shout at him, my voice carrying across the plains.
“I think it’s best if we call it a night.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” This time, I step forward, and my nearness causes his gaze to glow again. He can’t hide his reaction to me. “That’s.” I poke his chest. “Too.” I poke him a little harder. “Bad.” I shove him with both hands for good measure.
And he doesn’t move a muscle.
“I won’t let you quit. You don’t want to get close to anyone! You keep everyone at arm’s length. Everyone! Even your friends. The people who are always by your side. You have hidden yourself in grief.”
