I was up last night writing a very short story. It's pretty random, but given the fact I have nothing to do with it, go ahead and read it.
This is where the quote in my siggy comes from.
These Stormy Nights
The rain's pouring down, drumming on the roof. Her eyes reflect the ripples in the grey lake. Mysterious. Ever-moving. I turn to her. My eyes trace her lithe figure. Dark brown hair in a messy side braid. Tumultuous light blue eyes. Her pale skin, glowing in the darkness. I move towards her so our jeans are touching.
She looks over at me. "I love these stormy nights," she whispers. "The rain... I've always envied it." She turns back to the thunderstorm outside the window. Glass seems so frail, yet it protects us from the raging torrent. "It's so orderly, rhythmic, it has a purpose, you know?" Her hand reaches over and drums a beat on my thigh.
"I've always wanted that. To not be a shadow. To have a purpose, an anchor, anything."
I nod. Her parents died in a car crash two years ago. I can't relate.
She bends over her knees, her tight black tank top curving to fit her petite frame. "At least I have you," she mumbles. "God, I'd be dead if it weren't for you."
"I love you," I say impulsively.
A half-smile flits across her face, but she doesn't look up. "Are you sure? These stormy nights can change your mind."
"I'm never sure when I'm around you," I confess. "And let's face it, love isn't a sure thing."
"Damn right it isn't," she says, and I wrap an arm around her shoulders. She straightens. Looks me in the face. Blue eyes meeting hazel eyes.
I lean forwards until my lips are a hair's-width away from hers. I can barely breathe. Her eyelashes brush against mine.
I am acutely aware of the storm outside, and as our lips meet, I suppose I love these stormy nights as well.
