A Night In The Storm

Chapter Six: A Night in the Storm

Rose's POV

Rain hitting against the windowpane made a loud sound; it was as if it wanted to pierce through it. Howling wind-whipped flashes of light from the lightning every now and then illuminated the living room. I sat at the window, holding my knees, staring at the storm outside.

Chris was on the other side of the room, working on his laptop. He obviously didn't care about the storm or the loud thunder that made me jump a little each time. He just always seemed so calm, so in control-like nothing bothered him.

Then, the lights went out.

"Great," I mumbled. That, added to everything else already going on, made me just a little nervous.

I heard Chris sigh loudly. "Fantastic," he muttered, his voice sharp.

I turned to him. "Do we have candles or a flashlight? I need one, please"

He gave me a look, one of those looks that said, Seriously? You couldn't figure that out on your own? Without saying anything, he walked into the kitchen and opened a drawer. A minute later, he came back out with a box of candles and a lighter.

"Here," he said, laying them on the table.

"Thank you," I said quietly, a little ashamed. I reached for the lighter and tried to light one of the candles. My hands were shaking slightly, whether from the cold or from nerves, I'm not sure, and I couldn't get it lit.

Chris let out a big sigh this time. "You're going to burn the place down if you keep that up," he said, snatching the lighter from my hand.

"I can do it," I snapped, though obviously not the truth. "Just see, watch me do that in seconds"

"Obviously," he said, a little smirk dancing on his lips. He lit one candle, and then another, until the room was warm and softly glowing. The shadows danced on the walls, almost seeming to make the room magical.

"Happier now?" he asked-the bite to his tone teasing and not mean.

I had ignored his question and sat on the couch, pulling a blanket over my legs. It was still raining heavily, and howling wind just sounded like a wild animal outside.

"This storm is scary," I whispered to myself.

Chris, who had sat again on the couch, looked up from his phone. "It's just a storm," he said in that cool tone of his. "You're acting like.... Don't tell me you haven't experienced this before"

I rolled my eyes at him. " Not like that, and I am not acting like that. I just said it's scary."

He shrugged, leaning back into the couch. "It's just water and wind. You'll survive"

I couldn't help but frown at him. Sometimes, he could be so cold, so distant. Other times, he surprised me by being almost. kind. Like when he lit the candles just now or when he stopped me from embarrassing myself with the lighter.

"You're so strange," I said, without even thinking about it.

He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? What do you mean by that?

"You heard me," I said, straightening up farther. "One minute, you're cold and act like I don't exist. The next minute, you're, I don't know the part of you which is real" I trailed off, searching for words.

"I'm what?" he asked, quieter again, his eyes scrutinizing me.

"You're. different. Almost human," I said, smiling a little.

"Almost human?" He repeated my words with a small chuckle. "Should I be insulted?"

"I don't know. Should you?" I teased.

Teasing didn't last long. The smile fell away, and his face turned serious. "People aren't always what they seem," he said, softer than I'd ever heard him.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Sometimes it is easier for people to keep a distance. To not let people in."

It caught me off guard, the things he said. For a second, he seemed vulnerable-under the well-performing ice of a man who had nothing wrong with him.

Easier, but not better," I replied, gentle, so maybe he would open up more.

He didn't say anything immediately. He just looked at me, his eyes searching mine as if trying to fathom me out.

"You always do this," he finally said.

"Do what?"

"Act like you know everything. Like you've got life all figured out.

"I don't have it all figured out," I said, shaking my head. "But I know enough to see when someone's hiding."

"Hiding?" His voice had an edge to it, now.

"Yes, hiding," I said, sure. "You act like nothing matters to you, but I don't believe that. Not for a second."

The silence in the room felt heavy. Outside, the only sounds were from the rain and the thunder. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could utter anything, a loud clap of thunder made me jump.

Without thinking, I gasped and pulled the blanket tighter. It was then that I felt his hand on mine.

"It's just thunder," he quietly assured me, his voice flat and even.

My gaze dropped to our hands, his warm, strong one laid over mine. My heart was racing, but I didn't think it was just from the storm. It was him.

The moment after stretched in silence, and I thought he might continue, but he didn't. He jerked his hand off like he had touched something he shouldn't have.

"You should get some sleep," he said as he rose and headed toward his bedroom.

I watched him go, my mind reeling. He was so confusing: one minute he was so kind and gentle; the next, standoffish again.

I stayed in the living room for a while afterwards, staring at the candles and listening to the rain. I couldn't help but think of the way he had looked at me, the way his hand on mine had felt.

Maybe there was more to Chris than I'd thought; maybe-just maybe-the cold, distant man that I married did have a heart after all.