by Unknown
“Okay,” he half-whispered, hoping that his best attempt at a calm voice would reassure her. “What can I do to help you?”
Stormy immediately extended her hand to him. “Hold my hand, please.”
“I… you want me to what?” Marcus could hardly believe that this almost-stranger was asking him to hold her hand. Not something he was used to. Not something he liked. Not something he wanted to do.
“Please...” And then without warning she took his hand and intertwined his fingers through hers.
Her hand was tiny – the smallest he’d ever held. Her wrists were so thin and delicate-looking, like small twigs, and as she stood up, he noticed that her collarbones looked like they could be snapped in a strong breeze. She was just so petite, and something about this seemed to stir another unfamiliar feeling within him. He suddenly thought back to a day when he’d been eight and had rescued a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest. He’d picked it up so gently and cradled it in his hands as if it were the most breakable thing in the world. He’d run home and lined a shoebox with soft towels, and laid the helpless creature down. He’d tried to feed it, but it had refused. He’d sat up with it all night, fervently hoping it would survive. And when it didn’t, he had been crushed. He’d held a funeral for it the next day and buried it in his mother’s rose garden. He’d wanted so badly to take care of that small, helpless, breakable bird.
“Wait.” Stormy abruptly bucked against his hand as he led her towards the boarding gate. Shit, was he going to have to throw her over his shoulder caveman-style and physically carry her onto the plane?
“What now?” Marcus turned to face her just as she slipped her arm around his waist and squeezed. He flinched at the feel of it, especially when she brought her other arm around and locked him in a kind of bear hug.
“Thanks.” She looked up at him and smiled gratefully, and he thought about the little bird once again.
It was an awkward way to walk, with her attached to him like a baby joey to a kangaroo, but if that’s what it took to get her onto the plane, apart from knocking her over the head and rendering her unconscious, he guessed it was the least he could do for Damien.
Stormy felt strangely safe with her arms wrapped around Marcus. He was big, and her arms were barely able to reach around him completely. He was clearly a large, mucho, muscley, manly man. She’d never had her arms wrapped around such a creature before; his type was totally foreign to her. She tightened her grip as they got closer to the gate, and felt him flinch in reaction.
Blocked, grumpy and uncomfortable with touching. His list of not-so-nice attributes was growing rapidly, she thought with slight amusement. No doubt he was a party pooper; he was probably that kid that told on your parents if you and your friends snuck a ciggy and smoked it behind the garden shed. He looked like a grouchy, bad-tempered troll, who was also totally snoring-boring and a killjoy deluxe.
So why had she got a little flutter-fluttering in her stomach when she’d tightened her arms around him? A ting-tingle in her thighs, a sex-sation up and down her spine and a very strong urge to jump his bones? Yup… the stars had been right – oh yes they had – they were definitely sexually compatible. To the max. But if the stars had been right about that, then they were also right about something else – this was a very bad day to fly.
Stormy had no choice but to close her eyes and go to her happy place: rainbows and fresh spring rains, bouncing baby panda bears, flowers and rolling hills, a place where Bambi’s mother had lived and fairytales came true.
Marcus finally came to a stop, and Stormy opened her eyes to find herself standing next to her ‘seat’ – or should she say, a sci-fi space pod. The seats were enormous, and enclosed by a kind of wavy wall that separated you from your neighbor. A giant screen was built into one of the mahogany-lined walls. The pods were all arranged around a big freestanding bar and lounge area. She could only imagine what tickets like this cost – the price tag must have been astrophysically expensive.
This was not an environment she was accustomed to, let alone agreed with. Millions of people in the world were starving, and the price of one of these seats could probably feed a village for a year. This was capitalism at its worst; she did not like to be around injustices like this at all.
But despite herself, and everything she believed in and stood for, she had to admit that the seat was very comfortable. More comfortable than her lopsided futon mattress. Mmmm, she sat and felt the instant pull of unparalleled comfort, extra seat and legroom and fully adjustable reclining position. Okay, so she had started reading the in-flight brochure for business class. The pillow, too, was luscious. Spongy and soft. It cradled her head like a mother might cradle a baby’s and again, despite herself, she felt the need to nestle. The real clincher, though, was the complimentary freshly-squeezed orange juice she was now being served. It was going down wonderfully, especially with that warm towel. Surrounded by all this cushiness, she could almost forget that she was sitting in a metal can that was about to be catapulted into the open skies. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as she thought?
4
Blocked chakra alert!
“The emergency exits are being pointed out to you now, and in the case of an emergency, floor lights will illuminate your way to the nearest exit.”
The pretty airhostess was giving the usual demonstration, but Marcus had seen it so many times before that he was already reading his newspaper. Once again, though, he was interrupted by guess-who. She had pulled the newspaper down and was staring at him with wide, frightened (and rather startling green) eyes.
“What if the lights don’t come on and we can’t find our way to the exit, then what?” she whispered fearfully.
“It’s a plane, a cylinder,” Marcus answered dryly. “There are only two possible directions – that way,” he pointed up the aisle, “and that way,” he pointed down. “Trust me, you won’t get lost on the way to the emergency exit, it’s impossible.”
Stormy nodded and looked satisfied with his answer, so he raised his paper again, only to see the small white hand reappear moments later.
“But what if the emergency doors get jammed, because we crash into snow, like those people did on the Andes? Lilly told me about this program she watched and they had to eat each other to stay alive. Raw.” Stormy shuddered dramatically.
Marcus found himself blinking rapidly again – it seemed to be the involuntary reaction he had to her outlandish statements, a combination of shock and confusion as he found himself at a loss for words. He was never lost for words. For God’s sakes, he delivered arguments to courtrooms full of people, and now he was struggling to find a reply to this ridiculous rainbow-haired woman? She had a strange effect on him. It was as if her mere presence caused the part of his brain that offered up logical rebuttals to go on sabbatical.
“Um…” He was still searching for the words – he would have taken any words at this stage. “Um… I… I’m sure we won’t have to eat each other,” he offered lamely.
“Goddess, I hope not. I’m a strict vegan.”
“I’m sure you are,” Marcus was unable to hide the amusement in his tone. Of course she was a vegan – she probably campaigned for the rights of organic vegetables, trees and other foliage too… a little like his parents. Not a thought he wanted to entertain for too long.
“What’s that?” Stormy jumped as the plane started moving, once again snatching Marcus’s hand without his permission. This handholding thing of hers was becoming a bit of a bad habit he needed to break. This was going to be the most torturous few hours of his life. In fact, right now, he would rather be watching the entire Twilight trilogy with a room full of teenage girls than sitting on a plane next to Stormy-Rain.
“It’s just the plane moving,” he replied impatiently, trying to free his hand from her surprisingly strong grip. But as soon as he tried to pull away, her fingers tightened like a vice
around his.
“Does it have to go so fast?” Stormy sounded frantic now.
“Yes, it needs to gain enough momentum to launch itself into the air. Have you ever flown before?” Marcus asked.
Stormy nodded, and with her free hand, started twirling some hair around her finger. “But I don’t really remember all the specifics. I was on drugs.”
Marcus stared at her, shocked. Firstly, who the hell admitted that kind of thing to a stranger? Secondly, he did not approve of drugs at all.
“You don’t have any illicit substances on you now, do you?” he whispered urgently, looking around to make sure none of the crew or passengers had overheard. “Because its illegal. You could be arrested for that, you know.”
Stormy swung around and looked at him with genuine surprise. “Absolutely not. I don’t do drugs.”
“But you just said –”
“That was the first and only time, and it was the worst experience of my life, thank you very much, so you can stop being so judgey.”
Marcus was skeptical. There was no way this rainbow-haired, tattooed hippie-chick didn’t do drugs. She probably had her weed dealer on speed dial.
“You don’t believe me!” Stormy said, sounding genuinely angry, which threw him slightly – it was the first time he had ever detected a hint of it in her.
“To be perfectly honest… no,” he responded matter-of-factly, and he could immediately see this pissed her off even more.
“Why not?” She sounded indignant.
“Well, no offence, but look at you.”
Stormy glared at Marcus, widening those devastatingly green eyes at him. They were so piercing that they gave him a little chill.
“Grumpy-grump and judgmental,” she hissed over the loud rattle of the engines.
“Well, you have to admit it, you’re not exactly…” he paused, looking for the right words. Although he had always found it hard not to be completely honest 100 percent of the time, he didn’t want to offend or upset her. He wasn’t a total bastard. Besides, who knew what a pissed off Stormy-Rain would look like? “You don’t exactly embody normality, Stormy,” he finished more gently.
“Well you know what they say about normality,” Stormy scoffed.
“No…?”
“It killed the cat.” She let Marcus’s hand go and pointedly faced the front, turning away from him.
“That was curiosity,” Marcus corrected.
Stormy nodded. “That too, Marcus. That too.”
Stormy wasn’t sure she liked Marcus. Which was unusual for her – she liked everybody. Even the grumpy-grump bank manager guy who kept sending her rude letters. Although she did appreciate the way he decorated them with the big red pretty stamps.
Marcus was judging her by her window dressing and that wasn’t very nice. And she certainly didn’t need his negative energy as this giant metal capsule was about to fling itself into the air.
And the plane seemed to be gaining an awful lot of speed. She looked out the window and the lights were going by in streaks, like in sci-fi movies when the ship drops into hyperspace and the stars blur past them. Not natural.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a piece of amber that she’d taken from her crystal collection. She placed it carefully on the armrest next to her, and couldn’t help notice that Marcus shot her a sideways look as she did. She knew what he was thinking; it was written across his face. It amazed her that two people from the same family could be so different. His cousin Damien was a free thinker, a true free spirit, and this guy was a total douche box.
“Aaaahh…” Stormy let out a series of nervous squeaks as the plane started lifting. She shut her eyes tightly and clutched onto her chunk of amber for dear life as she felt her stomach and possibly all her internal organs falling to her feet.
The tilt of the plane was getting more and more extreme as it lifted higher and higher into the sky. Stormy willed herself to think happy thoughts again: rainbows… daisies… cuddly puppies and colorful butterflies tumbling out of the sky and plummeting to their painful, fiery, grizzly deaths… AAAHHH! Her happy place was no longer happy, and the angry roar of the engines was getting even louder as the plane climbed.
They were going to crash. She was sure of it.
She’d had an intuitive feeling since yesterday that something was going to go wrong. She often got these six-and-a-half-sense kind of feelings, and over the years she’d learned to trust them. She considered herself to be a bit psychic in that way. And the further up into the clouds the plane went, the more the feeling intensified.
She wasn’t necessarily afraid of death, since she knew reincarnation was inevitable. Take her pet tortoise, for example – he was obviously the reincarnation of Elvis. She’d known this immediately from the way he’d reacted to the song “Jailhouse Rock”. He’d suddenly stopped snacking on his lettuce and had looked up, a knowing expression on his little face. He’d also looked like he was mouthing the words, and there was just something in his eyes… it was a dead giveaway.
But what she didn’t like was having to die next to Marcus – the bearer of negative energy.
Ding-ding. A noise rang out over the slightly quieter engines and the plane seemed to level out. “Please note that the seat belt lights have been turned off.” The voice over the intercom sounded very calm, which helped to relieve some of Stormy’s concerns, and she heaved a sigh of relief.
“Do you mind, now?” Marcus suddenly asked loudly as she felt someone pulling at her fingers. She finally opened her eyes and looked down to see that one of her hands was gripping his thigh so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. How had her hand landed up there? She’d thought she was holding onto the armrest.
She quickly removed her hand, after giving his thigh the subtlest investigative squeeze – he was very muscular. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She looked up and met Marcus’s gaze, but instead of looking irritated with her, as she’d expected, there was another expression on his face. She couldn’t quite make out what it was, and as she scrutinized his look, he dropped his head quickly and cleared his throat. (Blocked chakra alert! He’d be complaining of a headache next.)
“Sorry, would you mind getting up, please? I want to go to the bathroom.” His voice was overly-polite and stilted, and he was suddenly refusing to make eye contact with her.
“Sure.” Stormy got up nervously. She felt a little unsteady on her feet, especially when she imagined what lay beneath her – nothing! The vast, empty nothingness of air.
“Thanks,” Marcus said politely as he walked off up the aisle. He stopped suddenly and turned back to her. “Can I get you a drink on the way back, Stormy?”
“No, thanks.” Strange muscular man – polite one second and rude to her the next. It was a miracle he actually went to the loo, what with that blocked chakra and constipated uptightness.
So why the hell had she felt that ting-tingle again when he’d brushed passed her? Their shoulders had touched oh so briefly, and yet it had been electric. She’d literally felt a little shock zip through her body, and now something inside her fizzed, as if it had been shocked to life and was threatening to bubble over.
She sat back down and watched him as he walked up the aisle. Why on earth was she attracted to him when she didn’t even find him attractive? She didn’t like clean-cut, close-shaven, bright-white-Colgate-smiling, Polo-shirted, smart-pants-wearing, laced-up-shoes and perfect, neat-haired guys. He wasn’t her type, at all – but her body seemed to be saying something very different. It was all most confuzzling.
Especially when she was suddenly overcome by the desire to follow him into the bathroom and join the mile sky club; but she quickly banished that thought when she remembered that he had basically called her a “druggy weirdo”.
5
She could do with a sandwich
He didn’t need the toilet. He
just needed to get away from her. Everything about her was driving him absolutely mad.
Her hair – the color, the length, the way it hung, the way she incessantly twirled it around her finger. Her whimsical hippie clothes, especially that eye-offending scarf, her old filthy handbag, the way she had attempted to turn their seats into a rockery garden. And especially the things she said: eating each other in the Andes? Normality killed the cat?
But more than anything, he hated the effect she was having on him, especially when she had gripped his leg. He had immediately felt a surge of something run up his thigh and into his… STOP! Stop, stop, stop. He berated himself as he splashed cool water on his face. But the truth was, he was struggling to control his feelings around her, and he didn’t like being out of control. He needed to be away from her right now, because when she’d looked at him with those green eyes – as corny as it sounded – he’d felt something surging through his body. And for a second or two, he’d wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone in his entire life.
Even though the feeling had been fleeting, it had been enough to completely unsettle him. On his way up the aisle, he’d even had the urge to run back to the chair, chuck her over his shoulder and drag her into the toilet with him. It was all so bizarre, especially because he didn’t even find her attractive. She was way, way too thin, for starters. She could do with a sandwich, or six for that matter. He liked a woman with a bit of meat on her bones. And let’s not even get started on the hair and those ridiculous tattoos – he’d noticed a burst of bright pink hearts at the base of her neck, too, for heaven’s sake. She reminded him of one of those My Little Pony toys that all the girls had at one stage.
His ex, Emily, was stunning. A real Jessica Rabbit, with long red hair and curves in all the right places. Stormy was her total opposite in looks, and yet when he thought about her, his pulse and temperature seemed to rise inexplicably. This feeling was making his jeans a little too tight for comfort. He shuffled uncomfortably around the tiny bathroom cubicle for a few minutes before deciding he’d better leave.
