Because something is warm.
And wet.
And what the heck is that roar?
Jesus, I’m more buzzed than I thought I was, which is a pretty good reason to cut this out because Steph probably is too, and I should do the right thing if we’re both drunk. We should not continue with this until we can talk about it sober.
So, I try. I tear away and pant something in her ear that is probably her name. “Steph…”
“Adam,” she groans. “Touch me. Please, touch me. Now. I need you.”
“Are you—”
“Yes, I’m freaking sure! Unless you don’t want to because you think I look like a celery. I know I’m not your type and all—”
“I thought we talked about that. About types.”
“I know, but—”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about with the celery. You don’t look like a celery. Why would you say that? Isn’t celery a country?”
“It’s a vegetable,” she giggles, but then she leans back and looks straight at me. “How buzzed are you? You know it’s a vegetable, right? Please tell me that was a joke.”
It was a joke, I think. I’m pretty sure. I’m also sure the blood is roaring in my ears again. There’s another flash of light, and then the boom of thunder makes the tent tremble as it reverberates through my bones. Steph clutches at my neck and stares at me, her eyes so beautiful and deep that I could stare into them for an eternity, even in the dark.
Which I know doesn’t really make sense.
I’m about to tangle my hands in her silken hair and kiss her again, but only that because I think we are both more buzzed than we’re going to admit, or at least I am, and I want to keep this fairly PG-rated, which means clothes stay on, and any possible regrets stay far away. But then another loud clap and a flash of light brighten the entire tent, which is soon followed by another roar—a loud one, so loud that my teeth rattle.
Then another roar. This roar is so wild and furious that I realize it’s not in my head at all. It’s not my overheated blood surging through my veins or my dick trying to dick-whisper something into my ear that I shouldn’t be listening too—yes, I think I might be quite drunk to think something like that. The roar swells, louder and louder. I have no idea what’s happening until it’s too late.
The wind. The roar is the wind. And there’s a storm going on out there.
A storm that moved closer and closer and closer until it was right on top of us, and we didn’t even realize it.
As if the heavens are pissed at the idea of what we’re doing in the tent, a deluge of rain unleashes like a monsoon, straight onto the tent. The tent—which I’m guessing is supposed to be pretty hardy because most tents are usually built to withstand a rain shower—holds up for about thirty seconds. Steph clings to me wildly, and I tighten my arms around her in case this is the end of the world. It certainly sounds like it out there, with the storm roaring around us like a freight train and tearing at our tent like an outraged banshee.
Just when I think it’s over—when the rain settles down from the wild monsoon that let loose to something which actually resembles a normal summer rain at the end of a hot day—there’s another short wail of the wind, a loud as hell clap of thunder, and a brief quiver—the tent’s dying moan, I realize—and that’s it.
The whole thing collapses straight on top of us.
CHAPTER 9
Stephanie
There’s t
his inhuman sound coming from the layers of soaking wet and smothering canvas that is draped over my head and face like a death call. I realize the sound is me screaming, and I quickly cut it out.
The tent collapsed, I realize. And the thud on top of my head was a pole hitting me. The wet, sticky stuff on my face is just the wet tent. I reach up and find that I can easily peel it away.
I’m still sitting on Adam’s lap. Except, obviously, any romance is way done and gone. He’s gasping for air like a flopping fish that just got hauled out of water. I reach between us and peel the layer of wet canvas off his face. The first thing I do after that is to reach up and feel the cut on his forehead where he hit the rock this afternoon. I’m relieved to feel that it’s not bleeding.
“Holy shit,” I mumble. “As if this couldn’t get any worse.”
Adam peels the layers of canvas off from around us. The tent is still partially propped up by the poles that go through it. It collapsed right on top of us, but it’s easy enough to get it off and shove it to the side so we can move. I go first, fumbling around until I find the stupid zipper of the entrance of the freaking useless tent. I crawl out into the sticky, wet humidity of the night.
It’s still hot from the day, which is probably why such a wicked storm passed through. It’s still thundering and still pouring. There are bolts of lightning in the distance, and for a second, I’m not just uncomfortable, I’m also scared. But then Adam crawls out of the tent behind me. He sets a hand on my shoulder, and his warmth spreads through me, warding off the cold chill of the rain and the fear of the power of the storm out here where we’re not sheltered by things like a roof, windows, and actual walls.