Thunderstruck

by Brenda Drake

  Kyle arrived in his truck ten minutes late. She rushed outside before he could make it up the sidewalk. Her mom was at work and her dad was still out of town, so there was no one there to take pictures of their formal attire and forced smiles.

  Thank goodness.

  “Hey,” he said, “I was going to do the gentleman thing and come to the door.”

  “No one’s home, so you wouldn’t get any kudos.” She walked by him to the passenger door and opened it, holding the back of her dress taut as she slid onto the seat.

  He took his suit jacket off and draped it over the back of the middle seat before getting in.

  “Nice dress.” His eyes traveled across her. “Is that the universe?”

  “Yep. It’s all I had at such a short notice.” She smoothed the generous flare skirt.

  He nodded. “I get it. Stars and moons. Goes with your name. I like it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Glad to see you’re wearing the necklace.”

  She touched the horn. “Yeah. I shouldn’t worry about losing it. Things don’t hold memories, people do. Besides, it makes me feel better somehow.”

  Across the street, Amira and Trevon, wearing his homecoming crown, posed for Amira’s parents. He’d been crowned king during the coronation assembly the day before with Grace and the rest of the court.

  It was silly that they were double-dating with Amira and Trevon but going in separate cars. Kyle had insisted on going by themselves.

  He took the truck slowly down the street, stopped in front of Amira’s house, and rolled down his window. “Dude, we’re late for the reservation.”

  “Meet you there,” Trevon hollered.

  Kyle held onto the steering wheel and glanced over at Stevie. “She has a corsage. I should have gotten you one.”

  “We’re going as friends. We don’t need to do the whole exchange of flowers thing.” If she were being honest, she would’ve liked to do that ritual with Blake. Something caught the sun on the seat between them.

  He didn’t. The excitement bubbling inside her chest surprised her.

  “What’s that?” she asked, trying to sound every bit casual about it.

  He snatched up the plastic box with a crooked smile playing on his lips. “You mean this?”

  “Yes, that.”

  “It’s not from me,” he said, putting the box on her lap. “Blake sent it. I’m to tell you that he’s sorry for earlier. That you will soon understand why he did whatever it was he did. He was so cryptic, but he said you’d get it.”

  Tears gathered on her lower eyelids as she opened the lid and took the corsage out—two gardenias with a rhinestone wristlet. She slipped it over her hand. At the bottom of the box was a folded slip of paper.

  Stevie, gardenias not only mean purity and love, but also trust. I hope you will give me your trust. Blake.

  The Italian restaurant, with its red-checkered tablecloths and taper candles stuffed into round wine bottles, was warm and romantic. Stevie followed the host to their reserved table. Kyle draped his suit jacket on the back of his chair. She decided to let Kyle have his moment as a gentleman and waited by hers. He ignored it and settled into his seat.

  “What’s wrong?” He glanced up at her. “You don’t like this table?”

  She shook her head, pulling out her chair and easing onto the seat. “It’s perfect.”

  He rose an eyebrow. “Somethings up.”

  Her phone chiming inside her clutch couldn’t come at a better time. She undid the clasp and took it out. She read the text from Amira and placed her cell on the table.

  “They’re on their way.” She picked up the menu. “Should we order an appetizer while we wait?”

  “Sure, whatever you want,” he said. “Within reason, that is.” He winked.

  “So gentlemanly,” she teased. “Really, though, we can split the bill.” She lifted the menu, blocking his view of her eye roll. She would never let him pay for her. He would be way too satisfied. They weren’t even on a real date. It was a friend thing.

  He pulled her menu down to look at her. “I was teasing you. I’ll pay, and you can get whatever you want.”

  “I think we should split it, okay?” She raised the menu again. “We’re only friends.”

  “So you keep telling me.” He brought the menu back down. “I’m not going to expect anything if I pay.”

  “Why is this an argument?” She glared at him this time.

  “It’s your homecoming,” he said with real concern in his eyes. “I know you’d rather be with Blake, but I’m here, and I want to make it special.”

  That’s sweet.

  Stevie felt a tug at her heart. Kyle was a softy or a really good liar. She wasn’t sure yet.

  “Thanks, but it’s your night, too,” she said. “Plus, you had such a great game today. We should be celebrating you.”

  He straightened and pulled his shoulders back. “I crushed it, huh?”

  The boy is definitely cocky.

  She stared at the wax dripping down the side of the wine bottle in the middle of the table and pressed her lips together trying to hold back a laugh. If he were ever in a serious relationship, the girl would have competition with his ego.

  The waiter showed up at their table, his disapproving eyes going to the two empty seats. “Do you want to order anything as you wait for the rest of the party?”

  “Yes,” she said, feeling uncomfortable. “And our friends should be here any minute, but we’d like an antipasti platter and fried ravioli”—she glanced over at Kyle—“does that sound good?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “And I would like a ginger ale, please.”

  The waiter looked from Stevie to Kyle. “And what will you have to drink?”

  “Water’s fine.”

  Her phone went off, again. She picked it up and silenced it.

  “You can answer it if you need to,” Kyle said.

  “It’s just my alarm. It’s time to take my pill.” She grabbed her clutch and searched for her prescription bottle. “Crap. I forgot to pack it. I was trying to stuff everything in this tiny thing.”

  “Is it important?”

  “Yeah, it sort of is,” she said.

  “We could stop by and get it after dinner.”

  “Really? That would be great.” She pushed her chair out and stood. “Excuse me, I have to wash my hands.”

  “Are they dirty?” His gaze went to his own hands.

  “No. It’s a germ thing.”

  She went to the back of the restaurant and down a long, narrow hall. A man blocked her path. His hair was on the longish side and almost matched Kyle’s dark-auburn hair. He wore distressed jeans, a black pullover sweater, and Doc Martens boots. He was good looking for an older man, but he was rude blocking the hall like that.

  “Excuse me,” she said and waited for him to move out of her way.

  His lips spread into a sinister-looking smile and Stevie took a step back. “My apologizes, Stevie.”

  “What?” She swallowed hard. “How do you know me?”

  “Blake. He’s my nephew.” He crossed his arms. His dark eyes were glassy like a cockroach’s back. “He showed me photographs of you performing a play in a classroom.”

  “Oh.” She looked over her shoulder and all she could see of Kyle was his elbow. “His family is in…” She couldn’t remember where Blake was from. “Um, did you just get into town?”

  Norway. He was from Norway.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “That has to be a long flight from Ireland, right?”

  “You could say that.” He dropped his hands and gave her room to pass. “It was a nice coincidence meeting you here. Have a wonderful evening.”

  He’s lying. Who is he?

  “You, too,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t notice the fear in her voice. She squeezed by him and ducked into the bathroom, locking the door, then checking to make sure it was secured.

  Stevie leaned against the door, her h
eart thumping. Something about the man gave her a sensation much like worms crawling all over her skin. She washed her hands and hurried back to the table, scanning the restaurant for the man. He wasn’t at any of the tables.

  Just as she sat down, Amira and Trevon walked in, stopping at the host stand, searching the restaurant. Kyle half rose from his seat and waved at them. Amira’s white chiffon dress swooshed around her thighs. Her strappy high heels gave her three more inches in height.

  Amira slipped onto the chair beside Stevie. “So sorry we’re late.”

  “The parents were ridiculous with the pics, man.” Trevon took the seat between Kyle and Amira. He gave Stevie the once-over. “Damn, girl, you look hot.”

  Amira’s eyes narrowed. Stevie shot her a look that said to just let it go. Trevon will learn tact one day…maybe. “So, you won’t believe what my mom said.” Amira effortlessly changed the subject. “She asked why I didn’t get a crown. And went on to say that Trevon looked silly in his. Right in front of his parents. I swear that woman has no filter.”

  “Glad to see you ditched that ridiculous crown,” Kyle said.

  “You’re just jealous you didn’t get one.” Trevon grabbed a slice a bread from the basket on the table. The waiter must’ve brought it and glasses of water while she was in the restroom.

  Stevie’s eyes traveled over the other tables.

  Kyle leaned closer to her and was about to speak to her when the waiter came with their appetizers. Everyone shuffled their waters around to make space on the table. He placed Stevie’s ginger ale in front of her. Trevon bit into a ravioli, the steaming cheese pulling away from the pasta in a long string.

  Stevie decided to push the sudden appearance of Blake’s uncle to the back of her mind. He could have traveled from Ireland. She had no idea if there were direct flights from Norway to Seattle, anyway. Her choice to use that country could have been a coincidence. She wanted to find out more about the man. Who could she ask? No one at the table really knew Blake. Kyle and he had just started hanging out. The creepy-crawlies slithered across her skin again and she shuddered.

  She took a sip of her ginger ale and focused on Trevon who was telling an animated story about all the touchdowns he and Kyle had orchestrated together at the homecoming game.

  “You cold?” Kyle reached behind him to grab his jacket and she stopped him.

  “No, I’m fine. Just an ice cube,” that sounded odd, so she added, “went down the wrong way.” Which probably wasn’t much better, but he accepted the excuse. She took another sip from her glass.

  Amira slid Stevie a look that said she was bored. Whenever Trevon started talking about football or discussing plays, he wouldn’t stop. Thoughts of Blake muted out the conversation going on around her. She studied the corsage he’d sent for her and wondered what his note meant.

  Trust him. She hadn’t a reast to. She made this mess, not him. If she hadn’t pushed him to Grace, this night would have gone completely different. Instead, she was out with a guy who irritated her most days. But Kyle was growing on her. He didn’t know it, but he was actually a nice guy. That is, when he wasn’t so enamored with himself.

  All the things she liked about Blake ran through her mind like a grocery checklist. Most of one through five had to do with how hot he was, and the rest was about how giving and caring he was. When he’d first arrived at school, he was silent and rude, but after getting to know him, he was anything but that. He was something she couldn’t put her finger on. Regal? Maybe. Compassionate? Definitely. Strong-willed? Without a doubt. He just didn’t seem like he belonged on this planet, which was a weird thing to think, but it kept playing in her head.

  Really, Stevie. You’re not living in a comic.

  ellifu

  Blake waited for Grace in the living room, holding a plastic box with a wrist corsage of red roses to go with their school’s colors, the flowers she requested he get. Her little brother had told him she wanted to make a grand entrance. He tugged at the gray tie around his neck. He hated the contraption and wondered why it was a style on Midgard. Was it a leash for lovers to keep their men at bay? Either way, it was a ridiculous thing.

  Grace glided down the stairs wearing a short black dress that showed off her long, toned legs. Her heels were high and glittery, matching the silver around her neck.

  He gasped at the sight of her. Her beauty was stunning. If she’d just talk about something other than herself, he would get through the night without stabbing his ears.

  “You’re lovely,” he said.

  The crown on her head ruined the entire look. It was a silly trophy representing how adored she was by her classmates. He couldn’t understand this mortal ritual of homecoming. Reminded him of the excessiveness of the gods in earlier times.

  “Thank you,” she said with lips caked in red. “You don’t look half bad.”

  “I don’t get it,” he said. “Does that mean both sides are good?”

  Her lips puckered as she inspected him. “Hmm. I never thought of that before. What I meant was you’re hot in that suit.”

  “It’s a cool day. I should be fine.”

  Her laugh held amusement. “It means you’re handsome.”

  How could she not feel how uncomfortable they were together? It was agonizing for him. He opened his box. “I have something for you.”

  “Oh roses! They’re perfect,” she squealed, feigning excitement as if she weren’t expecting them.

  He eyed the fancy letter opener on the desk, thinking he’d used it on his ears. It was going to be a long evening. Her parents came back into the room before he could pick up the weapon.

  “You look amazing,” her mother’s squeal matched Grace’s decibel for decibel.

  By the look on her father’s face, he felt as annoyed as Blake was. He couldn’t begin to think what twenty plus years would be like with Grace. Her father deserved the crown instead of her.

  They posed for photographs in Grace’s backyard next to an evergreen. By the time they had finished, Blake’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. He didn’t understand why one image wasn’t sufficient to capture the moment. But Grace insisted on many.

  “Good luck, man,” her little brother said as he was heading up the porch steps. No doubt to escape the agonizing ritual. With his long, dark hair covering his eyes, he resembled a character from an anime Blake had watched the other night with May.

  “He won’t need it.” Grace leaned close and whispered to Blake, “You’re going to be very lucky tonight.”

  Guilt settled in Blake’s soul. He was with Grace, in all her beauty. The preparation of which must’ve taken hours. And she had done it all for him. To please him. He wasn’t worth her efforts. The right thing to do would be to make certain the night fulfilled all her hopes for it. Minus the romance part of it.

  The only thing that would make him feel less guilty about his lack of feelings for her is if Grace took the bait he was about to dangle in front of her. For someone who worked tirelessly on fundraising and other charity events with her mother, Grace was all about Grace. From what he witnessed, she never cared about others’ needs or wants. When she saw what she wanted, she took it, no matter who it hurt. It was such a contradiction, and it confused Blake.

  May had told him that many mortals were like that. They’d blaze a trail to what they wanted, burning whoever blocked their path. On Asgard, it was about the whole. Everyone worked together. There were the exceptions like his brother and uncle. Loki was the worst, though. He wasn’t against committing murder to get his desires filled.

  Grace received a text saying the group of friends going to dinner with them was about to arrive, so they waited on the porch. Her mother kept clicking photographs of them. She called them candid shots. Blake tugged at his collar.

  He just wanted the night to end. Wanted to see Stevie.

  The thought of Stevie as Comic Cam brought a smile to his face. Her vlogs featuring his father were her most popular ones. One of the vlogs she had record
ed about Thor’s sons hadn’t included Einar and Lajos a.k.a. Blake and Kyle. No one on Midgard knew the brothers existed, and Blake was happy for it.

  Stevie was such a contrast to Comic Cam. What would her fans think if they ever knew the girl behind the masks? He hoped they would see what he saw. Her beauty was understated and she worked hard to keep it that way, but it was there, just under the surface. Her softness of heart and her intelligence had appealed to Blake at first. And there was this spark, just beneath her plain exterior. He had noticed it the first time his eyes landed on her, and afterward, he could hardly think of anything else but Stevie Moon.

  Many Eddic poetry, written on stones in the infancy of Midgard, spoke of the Norse gods’ infatuation with its dwellers. Their frailty and love for family was appealing. Blake never understood that from his lessons about mortals. The text about Midgard had mentioned it frequently, but reading about something hadn’t compared to experiencing it.

  What would happen once Blake and Kyle delivered Heimdall’s Horn to his father? Would he ever see Stevie again? He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to face it until the time came when he could no longer ignore it.

  A white stretch limousine pulled up to the curb with formal-dressed girls and guys hanging out the windows or standing up through a hole in the roof. Grace’s friends were about as shallow as she—everything was about outward appearances.

  “Oh my God!” Grace covered her mouth with her hands. “It’s so amazing.”

  Her mother put her fist on her hips. “Did you all pitch in for that? How many times do I have to tell you? That money could’ve been used for better purposes.”

  Grace clutched onto Blake’s arm. “I’m so tired of you ruining my fun. We don’t have to give everything to others. We can have our own happiness, too.” When they were out of earshot, Grace whispered, “She’s so annoying. I hate all that charity stuff she forces on me.”

  Blake shrugged her grasp off, but she hadn’t noticed his irritation. Stevie had pushed him to Grace because of her efforts at fundraising for her operation. But it was all Mrs. Kirby’s doing, after all. Grace had been forced into doing it.