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He breaks out into unprompted laughter. "You were so funny. Waving your arms trying to save the flamingos. Ridiculous music playing inside. All the rich people scrambling to get their Rolls Royce's out of the driveway."
"Stop." Don't remind me. I'm enjoying a nice buzz from my wine.
"You were screaming at the wind, talking about death." He breaks into a deep belly laugh. I'm glad my misfortune entertains him. At least it's lightening the mood in the wine cellar.
His laughter dies down. I need to rest my head. It feels heavy. It slides along the wall and plunks down on his shoulder. Ah. Nice. His shoulders are nice.
The cell phone battery dies and we fall into darkness.
"Why are you afraid of the dark?" His voice is a gentle caress in the void.
"Bad things happen in the dark," I whisper. My voice sounds childlike, but I don't care. I'm always ten years old again when the lights go out.
"Like what?" His arm slides behind my back and provides a soft resting place instead of the brick wall. His arm is nice like his shoulder. Everything about the Unstoppable Foster is really nice.
"The bad guys will get you."
"Who are the bad guys?"
"I don't know." I'm too drunk to worry about that.
"Mmm. Are you scared now?" His hand behind my back reaches up to rub my upper arm. Feels good. He's warm and gentle.
"No."
"Good."
I like him rubbing my arm. His hands are nice. I don't want to pass out. I want to stay up and feel his hand on my arm, but…
"You need someone in your corner." It comes out in a mumble.
"Hmm?" His chest vibrates against my ear. It's nice too.
"When you fight, you need someone to take your back."
I'm not sure he heard me because I'm having trouble forming words.
His hand tightens on my arm.
He heard me.
Chapter 6 After the Storm
I wake up with my head on Foster's lap, his solid thigh supporting my neck. My clothes have dried and the raging wind has passed. We made it through the storm.
Most importantly, the overhead lights have come on and I can see Foster's sleeping face. Thick charcoal eyelashes rest on his cheeks and a pale pink bright spot shines in the center of his lips. The dimple in his chin is still there while he sleeps. It's not a smile-only dimple. It's an all-the-time dimple. I sort of love it.
What a gorgeous and complex man he is. Foster took good care of me last night during the peak of the storm. He could've left with the others, but he risked his safety to rescue me. The more time I spend with Foster, the more things I find to like.
I need to pee. Bad. We have to get up and out of here. We don't even know if the house is still standing up there, but I don't want to face today. The fallout from the party. Dealing with my dad and my brother.
And I don't want to say goodbye to Foster.
When I'm with him, I feel invincible. My family can't reach me, he doesn't care what I'm wearing, well, except for his eyes being drawn to my bikini top for a short time when I first got wet. But after that, he hasn't mentioned my clothes or mademe feel like it mattered. When we're together, other stuff that normally bothers me seems inconsequential. We are just two people who survived a storm together while drinking ridiculously overpriced wine.
He wakes up and looks down at my head on his lap. His eyebrows crinkle for a second then he smiles.
"We survived," I say with a grin.
