Brylan chuckled and Stormy stared at his nose. For the first time she noticed that it wasn’t completely straight, and there was a slight bump on the bridge of it.
“Okaaaay,” Brylan drawled, “That still doesn’t explain the nickname.”
“Well, when I came home from the hospital my nose was all swollen and gnarly looking. My bratty little cousins were visiting and they kept making fun of my schnoz. I was dopey on pain killers…and I tried to tell them to ‘leave my schnoz alone,’ but it came out ‘Nozz’ instead. They all got a good laugh…and I got stuck with a stupid nickname. Over time I just learned to live with it. I actually started to like it better than my real name.”
“I can see that,” Stormy said. “Somehow it suits you.”
“Gee thanks,” he feigned insult and she stifled a giggle.
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just so…carefree and charismatic. Like you.”
He waggled his eyebrows at her in a fake flirt, “So you like my charisma, huh?”
She threw a pillow at him, “Stop it. You know what I mean.”
Nozz laughed and then turned his attention to Brylan. “Hey Coach, speaking of unusual names, how did you get yours?”
Brylan shifted around in his seat uncomfortably. “Well, it’s not nearly as entertaining as your story. My mom wanted to name me Bryan, after her dad; and, my dad has always been a fan of Dylan Thomas…so they compromised by blending them together.”
“Who is Dylan Thomas?” Nozz asked.
Brylan shot him a quizzical look and a small crease formed across his forehead. It looked like he wanted to say something but he didn’t.
Stormy couldn’t believe her ears. “He’s a poet. Haven’t you read anything of his in school? ‘Do not go gentle into that good night.’ Ring any bells?”
Recognition registered on his face, “Oh, yeah…that guy! Cool.”
Nozz pulled at a loose thread on the knee of his jeans for a minute, and then he looked back up her, “Okay, Stormy. Your turn. What’s with the name?”
“Uh, nothing really.”
“Come on. Really? A name like Stormy? No story behind it? Come on,” Nozz prodded.
“All I know is that I was born during a thunderstorm.” That part was true, although she suspected it might have been inspired by the turmoil in her mama’s life…especially in light of her recently acquired knowledge about her conception. Goosebumps popped up on her arms at the thought.
“Nozz, you’ve been flipping through channels for ten minutes. Pick something already,” she said with an air of humor. It was time to shift their focus from her back to the TV.
A half-hour, and one stupid sitcom later, Nozz jumped up from his pile of pillows and announced that it was time for him to leave.
“You need a ride,” Brylan asked. “It’s getting dark.”
“No thanks. I have my trusty skateboard and a mini flashlight. I’m good.”
Brylan shook his head. “Well alright then.”
The three of them stood and walked Nozz to the door for their goodbyes. Nozz reached out and pulled Stormy to him in a brief and totally unexpected hug. “Thank you, Stormy,” he practically whispered in her ear. When he stepped back she could see the meaning in his eyes. He wasn’t just talking about dinner. He was referring to their earlier conversation in the boat.
“You’re very welcome, Nozz,” she smiled at him.
As soon as the door closed, an awkward silence flooded the house. Stormy opened her mouth to say that she should go too, but then she eyed the mess in the kitchen. There was no way she could leave it like that. It would drive her nuts if she left it behind, so she started collecting dishes and putting them into the sink.
Brylan rushed over to the sink and grabbed the bottle of Palmolive out of her hand. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“Um, what does it look like? I’m cleaning up.”
“Awe, don’t bother with that stuff. You’re a guest. I’ll clean it up later. Let’s watch a movie. I have all of the premium channels…. Free preview weekend.”
She glanced at the dirty dishes once more, and then up at Brylan’s face. He looked so…hopeful. But a movie? With Brylan? That sounded dangerous. She was already on an emotional rollercoaster, and she wasn’t sure she could trust herself to be near him for the duration of a movie without making a total ass of herself. But there was something in his eyes that said he didn’t want to be alone. “Okay, I’ll stay for a movie. But first you have to help me do these dishes. Oh, and I get to pick the movie.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Miss Black.” He handed her back the dish liquid and broke into a full grin that showed off his dimples.
Lord, help me. There should have been a law against being that good-looking. She tore her gaze away from his and focused on the rising suds in the sink while Brylan slid a stack of plates into it.
“Does that mean we’re watching a chick flick?”
She shot him a mischievous smile. “Of course it does.”
And the sappier the better.
****
The credits were rolling on Steel Magnolias and Stormy silently praised herself for staying on her side of the couch. She was stronger than she gave herself credit for.
Brylan was giving her a glare that suggested her movie choice had been a bit…harsh.
“Okay. I think I’ll go cut my wrists now.”
Stormy laughed. “Oh, it wasn’t that bad.”
“Are you kidding? That was the saddest shit I’ve ever seen! I mean…you women must be masochists or something.”
She’d never thought about it before, but there could be some truth to it. But she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Admit it though. It was a good story. And it wasn’t all sad. There was some humor too.”
He smirked. “Alright. I’ll grant you that. It was a good movie…but if you tell anyone I said that…I’ll have to off you.”
“Oh, Bry,” she chortled, “Your secret’s safe with me.”
As much as she hated to leave her comfy spot on the couch, her mouth was sticky and she desperately needed to remedy it. “I’m parched. You want anything to drink?” she said on the way to the kitchen.
Brylan hopped up from the couch and followed her. “That’s alright. I’ll get it.”
She had to stretch to reach the glasses on the top shelf, and a cool draft graced the bare skin of her midriff. Brylan was standing with the refrigerator ajar, but his focus was fixed on her, making her self-conscious. “What?”
“Huh? Oh. Nothing.” He was suddenly flustered, “Just thought you might need help reaching the glass, but it looks like you got it.” He leaned into the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of beer.
“I’d offer you one but, ya know, the whole being underage thing.” His expression was apologetic.
“That’s okay. I don’t touch the stuff anyway.”
He twisted the cap off with the tail of his tee-shirt. “Because of your mom?”
Yes. “No…because it tastes like horse piss.”
He nearly choked on a mouthful of beer. “And how do you know what horse piss tastes like?”
“I don’t, Mr. Smarty Pants. But if I had to guess….”
Brylan let out a few chuckles, and then his face darkened slightly. “Does this bother you?” He held up his beer. “Because I can pour it out….”
“No, Brylan. It’s fine. This is your house…and unlike my mother, I suspect that you know your limits. There’s a difference.” The last thing she wanted to do was make the guy uncomfortable in his own house. “Thank you for being so considerate though.”
He didn’t say anything more, but gave her a slow nod of understanding.
With their drinks in tow, Brylan and Stormy headed back into the living room. Stormy set her glass of Coke on the coffee table and resumed her spot on the couch with her back against the armrest and her legs half-stretched out in front of her. Brylan patted his thigh to signal that it was okay to prop her feet up on his leg. Stormy was reluctan
t and hesitated for a moment. It was an innocent gesture, but there was a level of intimacy involved in what he was suggesting. It meant touching him, and she wasn’t sure her heart, or her body, could handle it. She hesitated for a second and decided that maybe just one foot would be okay.
She gingerly placed one foot on top of his thigh and he absently rested his hand on her ankle and began rubbing his thumb across it, sending tingles all the way to her scalp. She’d never experienced anything like it. It was so light and gentle, but highly erotic at the same time, and Brylan was completely clueless what his touch was doing to her. In desperate need of a distraction, she snatched the remote from the coffee table and started surfing the channels.
Brylan was the one to break the deafening silence, “Pick something that won’t make me suicidal this time, okay?
“We’ll see.” She scrolled through the titles until she found one that she knew would drive him nuts, then she hit enter on the remote.
“Love Story! Oh HELL no! Give me that remote!”
His reaction had her dying with laughter. He reached for the remote and she held it away from him, higher and higher until her arm was completely outstretched above her head. Brylan started tickling her ribs until she was about to implode. He tickled with one hand and reached for the remote with the other. Before they knew it, Brylan was covering the entire length of her body with his.
Realization struck both of them, and the only sound in the room was that of heavy breathing.
Brylan placed one hand on the couch near her head to steady himself and fixed her with a smoldering, lust-filled gaze. Stormy had never wanted to be kissed so badly in her life. His full lips were mere inches from hers and she was completely breathless with anticipation. All logic and reasoning were gone from her mind, and in that moment she would have given herself to him completely.
But then something changed in Brylan’s dark eyes. The lust was replaced with a pained expression that said he was at war with himself. He backed off of her and slowly retreated to the other end of the couch.
A thick cloud of silence hung in the air as Stormy tried to recover from the cold slap of rejection. Brylan rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head. His speech came out strangled, “Stormy…I’m so sorry.”
He’s sorry?
Stormy bit back the urge to unleash on him. Her thoughts weren’t exactly rational at that moment. The remorse in Brylan’s eyes made her feel dirty and ashamed.
“I feel like I crossed a line that I shouldn’t have.”
“No. It’s fine. Really.” The lie was bitter on her tongue.
Brylan ran his hands through his disheveled hair. “It’s not fine. I….We’re friends. And I don’t want to—”
Stormy held up her hand. “Stop. Please.” She didn’t want to hear what was coming. She was too humiliated and angry already. The last thing she needed was for him to give her a list of excuses.
She chewed on her lip while staring down at the carpet. The warmth of unwanted tears started trickling down her face. “Dammit!”
Brylan reached for her but she jerked away. She needed to get out of there. She ran out of the house and across the yard without looking back. She took the stairs leading up to the garage apartment two at a time and didn’t stop until she was locked inside.
Chapter Thirteen
Brylan had been staring at the same damned paper for thirty minutes and had yet to read a single word. He threw his red ballpoint pen across the desk and cursed under his breath. “Shit.” He would never get those papers graded if he didn’t get his head out of his ass. That night on the couch had floated in and out of his mind all day long and it was driving him crazy.
I’m so damned stupid. The words repeated in his head over and over like a broken record. Stormy had every right to be pissed. He was supposed to be her friend, someone she could trust, and now he’d gone and caused her more pain…all because he couldn’t control his damned hormones.
He was already flirting with disaster by letting her stay in the garage apartment. What in the hell made him think spending time alone with her would be a good idea?
Since it was clear that he wasn’t going to get any work done, he grabbed his bag and started shoving papers into it, thinking maybe he’d get more accomplished at home. He grabbed his keys from the desk drawer and switched off the classroom light. When he was locking the door he heard the unmistakable clicking of heels on the concrete floor.
Gail, the principal’s secretary, was headed straight for him. “Mr. Knight…I’m glad I caught you. Mr. Flint would like to see you.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. He’s in his office.”
Damn. Flint never stayed late. Whatever he wanted to talk about, it probably wasn’t good.
“Okay, Gail. I’ll be right over. Thanks.”
She turned and clicked back down the hallway without another word, which seemed strange. The woman was usually overly friendly to the point that he could never get a word in edge-wise.
Maybe she was just in a hurry to get home.
With his bag over his shoulder, Brylan headed down the hall toward Flint’s office. His office door was open and Flint was staring out the window from his big leather office chair. Afraid he would startle the old guy, Brylan gave a light knock on the doorframe. Flint turned his attention from the window to Brylan, “Come on in, Brylan.” He pointed to the chair across from his desk. “Have a seat.”
Brylan’s anxiety meter spiked. It was out of character for Flint to address faculty by their first names. Something was off.
Flint’s chair squeaked in protest as he leaned back. He then crossed his arms over his expansive chest. “I’ve been hearing rumors that you have a girl living with you.” His words were eerily calm. “And not just any girl. One of our students, to be exact.”
Brylan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “No, sir. She does not live with me. She’s a tenant. I’m leasing my garage apartment to her.”
It was the plain simple truth…well, it was the truth anyway. There was nothing simple about it.
“Uh, huh,” he grunted, seemingly unconvinced. “Well that’s not what I’ve been told.”
It was time to try and cover his ass. “Sir, I’m telling you the truth. If someone is saying otherwise, then they’re either misinformed or else they’re flat out lying. We have a business arrangement. That’s all.”
Until he’d gone and screwed it all up.
Flint harrumphed and then fixed Brylan with that death stare of his. “For your sake, Mr. Knight, I certainly hope so. It was pretty bold of you to go and lease your apartment to a high school student. It still doesn’t reflect well on us. You know how people talk around here.”
Yeah. I’m starting to get that.
“Sir, I was just taking an advantage of an opportunity to get the place leased. I didn’t really think it would matter who I leased it to.”
His demeanor softened just a smidge. “Alright, son. Just remember what I told you about the no fraternization policy. I meant every word.”
“Yes, sir. I remember well.” He couldn’t help it if his damned hormones didn’t get the message.
“Good. Now, how are things going with you and my niece?”
Meddlesome son-of-a-bitch. “Things are good. Pam is a sweet girl.” Brylan was paving a road to Hell with his lies and half-truths.
“Good to hear it. Well, I best be gettin’ home. Got the missus waiting for me.” He stood up and held out his hand for Brylan to shake.
“Have a good evening, sir.”
****
The five minute drive home was spent mulling over his little sit-down with Flint. It irritated the hell out of him that someone was out there telling tales that could end his career in one fell swoop. Who could possibly have it in for him already?
Nozz had sure been right about one thing—news traveled fast in a small town.
As his blue Camry rounded the corner he spotted Pam’s car in the driveway. His day had just gone from ba
d to worse. It was her third visit in a week, and he just wasn’t in the mood for company.
She was nice enough, but as time wore on, it was becoming more and more apparent that he and Pam just weren’t very compatible. Brylan was perfectly content to stay in and watch a movie in a pair of sweats with a beer in hand. Pam, on the other hand, was a wine and caviar type of girl, and she was forever begging him to take her out to fancy places that made him wear a damned tie, places that were hard on his wallet.
Weathering Stormy Page 14