Love Storm (12 page)

 
           Someone screamed.

 
           We both jumped, and he returned his soda to the cup holder, but didn't let go of my arm. We looked around wildly, until he pointed at the screen. The villain was about to burn the poor maiden alive.

 
           Martin and I looked at each other, and began sniggering uncontrollably.

 
           "Shh – we have – to be – quiet," he managed to get out through our hilarious laughter.

 
           I shook my head and muffled my snickers by burying my face in his shoulder. He let out a loud "Ha!" and I clapped a hand over his mouth, which just made it seem all that much funnier.

 
           Our hilarity didn't end until the hero had managed to sweep the fair lady out of danger's way. I sensed that he his chuckles had stopped when I didn't feel his body shaking anymore. I didn't move from where I was, but turned my head to look at the screen. When I looked up at Martin, his sparkling dark grey eyes were watching me. He pointed at my hand, which was still restraining his mouth, and I quickly removed it. After that, we settled back in our seats and finished watching the movie.

 
           "So what did you think?" We were walking out of the theater.

 
           I considered for a moment. "I think the hero was gay, the villain was on Jerry Springer once, and the fair maiden was a prostitute."

 
           He grinned. "I completely agree. Thanks for treating, anyway."

 
           "I owed you," I said. "I'm not sure it was worth it, but there you go. So where to next?"

 
           We allowed the surge of people coming out of the theater to sweep us along.

 
           "How about something to eat?" he suggested. "Most of my popcorn ended up on the ground, and most of your Skittles ended up in my lap. You like pizza?"

 
           "I love pizza," I smiled. "How about Carly's?"

 
           "That's my favorite pizza place!" Martin exclaimed. "Man, who knew?" he asked the clouds wonderingly.

 
           One pizza and one hour later, we were back in front of my house.

 
           "Thanks for taking me out today," I said softly.

 
           "You're welcome," he said, giving me a slight smile. "You're cool, Winter."

 
           "Why, thank you," I grinned. "You're not so bad yourself."

 
           "I had fun today," Martin admitted, his grey eyes focusing on our clasped hands between us.

 
           "Me too," I said, reaching forward and hugging him. "But I wanted you to know… that, um, I like you," I continued. "But the thing is, I'm not sure I want more than outings and movies, you know?" I prayed he would take this easily.

 
           I felt him sigh in relief. "Thank god," he said, grinning at me. "I was just trying to figure out how to say the same thing to you. I like you and all, and you're cool, but I don't think it's love at first sight, you know?"

 
           "I know exactly what you mean," I said, smiling. "Thank you though, Martin. I really do like you." I reached up and brushed a kiss on his cheek.

 
           He the turned his head and returned the favor. "Good night, Winter," he said. "I hope I'll see you again really soon."

 
           "Same here," I said. "Hopefully we still have mirrors in our house."

 
           He looked at me, speechless for a moment, his mouth moving silently, then the street rang with his honest laughter. "I was hoping for something a bit less narcissistic than that," he smirked.

 
           "Okay, how about this: I hope I'll get to see
you
, Martin Rifkin, really soon."

 
           He chuckled as we parted. "Bye, Winter."

 
           "See you around." I waved until his car disappeared.

 
           ~*~*~*~

 
           Sunday.

 
          8am. My alarm went off. I punched it as viciously as a judge does his gavel with no qualms. I sat up in bed, stretched, breathed deeply, and looked around my room. A second later I bounded out of my covers and jogged off to the bathroom. My teeth were clean in a flash, my pajamas were traded for a just-above-the-knee-length denim skirt and black spaghetti strap top, and I was downstairs and eating breakfast within seven minutes.

 
           "What's got you so energized this morning?" my dad asked me as he watched me shifting restlessly in my chair during breakfast.

 
           "Dunno," I said cheerfully. "I just feel like – I don't know, like I could
anything
today! Ever have one of those days, where you just feel like you're on top of the world? And you can do just about everything?"

 
           My dad chuckled. "Live it up while you can," he advised, "And spread the good cheer."

 
           "I think I will. I'm going out today, is that alright?"

 
           "Sure," he said. "Be back by eleven. Tomorrow's a school day."

 
           "Okay," I said happily. "See you in a bit."

 
           He waved as I trotted out of the room. I took a short walk around the block and decided it wasn't smart to wear flip-flops when one goes power walking. No matter, I wouldn't be doing much more power walking for today. When was Zack going to pick me up?

 
           I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket as I passed Darren Walker's house down the street and summoned up Zack's cell phone number.

 
           "'Lo?"

 
           "Hi Zack," I said. "What's up?"

 
           "Uh, I kind of just woke up," he said slowly. His voice was low and hoarse, and for a second, I shivered, even though the day was starting out beautifully – no wind, and the sun was smiling at me cheerily.

 
           "When are you going to come?" I asked, recovering quickly.

 
           "When do you
want
me to come?"

 
           "As soon as you can," I laughed. "Come on, hurry up. Today's a good day. Don't waste it!"

 
           "Okay, okay," he said, and I could hear a reluctant smile in his voice. "If it makes the princess happy, I'll be there in twenty minutes, tops."

 
           "Just brush your teeth and change and stuff," I said, skipping past old Mrs. Haskin's house and turning the corner back onto my street. "Let's go get breakfast together!"

 
           "Did you eat?"

 
           "Yep," I said happily. "I can eat again."

 
           "Okay," he chuckled. "See you in bit."

 
           "Bye!"

 
           "Later."

 
           True to his word, less than twenty minutes later I was in Zack's car. We had opened the sun roof and all the windows, letting in the fresh morning breeze.

 
           "So what's got you so cheery this fine morning, Princess Winter?" he asked me as we stopped at a red light, a hint of teasing in his voice.

 
           "I don't know!" I said, smiling from ear to ear. "Today I just feel… I don't know, invincible! Unbeatable! Unconquerable!"

 
           "Indestructible," he contributed.

 
           "Unbreakable!"

 
           "Imperishable!"

 
           "Impregnable!" I shouted.

 
           "Impenetrable!" he yelled.

 
           "Indomitable!" I screamed out the window at the pick-up truck next to us. The guy looked stared at us, startled.

 
           "Undefeatable!" he tried bellowing it out his own window, but failed when he started laughing.

 
           "Unbeatable!" I continued, now giggling too.

 
           "I think we said that one," he grinned at me. His golden eyes sparkled at me, holding nothing but sheer elation, and I threw my head back and laughed, just from pure, unadulterated happiness. What a day!

 
           "Well I'm glad we both use the thesaurus often," Zack said. "Can we go eat?" he then complained good-naturedly. "We've been driving around aimlessly for a while, gas is not cheap, and the last thing I ate was half a sandwich for lunch yesterday."

 
           "Yes, let's," I said. "How about Caroline's Pies? They serve breakfast there."

 
           "I've never been there before," he said curiously. "What's it like?"

 
           "They serve you breakfast, and if you buy a pie the same day you get free coffee and juice, and they make the
best
apple pies in the world," I gushed. "I can't believe you've never been there before!"

 
           "So sue me, I don't go out to eat much," he said, holding one hand up defensively, but grinning.

 
           "Let's buy a pie," I said. "Apple."

 
           "Cherry."

 
           "Ew! No! Apple."

 
           "Pecan, then."

 
           "Ooh, their pecan
is
pretty good, but no – apple!"

 
           "Peach."

 
           "No, I don't like peach. Apple!"

 
           "Pumpkin."

 
           "I love pumpkin! But I want apple today."

 
           "Banana cream?" he pleaded desperately as he slid on his sunglasses.

 
           "What's so bad about apple?" I asked. "It's
wonderful
."

 
           He groaned. "I'd prefer it if we didn't spend my money on my least favorite type of pie. Please."

 
           "Why don't you like it?" I asked curiously.

 
           "You don't want to know," he waved it off. "Let's just not get a pie."

 
           "No, we must buy a pie, for lunch or something," I insisted. "And I do want to know. Why do you hate apple so much?"

 
           "I'm not going to tell you."

 
           I stuck my tongue out at him. "You are
too
going to tell me," I said.

 
           He shook his head.

 
           "Tell me, please?" I begged. "I'll keep bothering you."

 
           He sighed in defeat. "Fine. Making a long story short, when I was little, say, 'bout six or seven, we had this huge Christmas dinner." He paused, and suddenly his eyes glazed over – I had never seen him so genuinely wistful or happy about anything before. Then, his expression turned rather painful. "I mean, it was
big
. All my cousins came, and some of them decided it would be extremely funny to stick a whole bunch of junk in my piece of pie. Let's see, there was a marble – "

 
           "They wouldn't!" I gasped. "You could have choked and died!"

 
           He nodded. "They put all sorts of stuff in there – a dead cockroach – " I made a face. "Some small leaves, a dime, I think, and some dirt, maybe even some dog turd from the backyard. I think they figured most of it was organic, except for the dime and marble, and I would live if I bit into them. Guess what I got a bite of first?" he said grimly.

 
           "Cockroach?" I suggested in a small voice.

 
           He nodded. "The one, the only. I swear, my cousins were laughing so hard they could have died. It wasn't very funny to me. Put me off apple pie for life." His mouth was set in a grim line.

 
           I grinned at him. "Well, today's the day we're going to change that, because today, you, Zackary Crowne, are going to eat apple pie!"
            "No," he groaned. "Please, no. Spare me," he beseeched me dramatically.

 
           "I'm sorry," I said pityingly. "But you must."

 
           "I shan't," he said.

 
           "You shall," I said cuttingly, then thought for a moment. "Let's not go on another Shakespeare reel, please?"