the Devil and the Sea

46| The Lair of the Devil

When we pull up to my house, I quickly jump off Vincent's sportbike and run into the house, forgetting to say goodbye. Forgetting that he, too, will go home, and will not run after me.

I slam the front door and look ahead of me: the darkness of the house suggests that it is empty. Cold clothes stick uncomfortably to the skin and I want to get rid of them as soon as possible. I'm walking on the floor in the dark and only now I realize that I'm still wearing Vincent's motorcycle helmet. I take it off and rush back out of the house, but Vincent is gone.

Crap!

I run into my room with a motorcycle helmet in my hands and put it on the table, hastily pulling off my wet clothes. Ricky is not at home and I text him where he is. I throw the phone on the bed and run into the bath, get under the scalding shower. After ten minutes, I wipe my hair, I return to the room which is semi-dark, and only occasionally illuminated by flashes of lightning.

I pick up the phone, before throwing the towel over the back of a chair. Ricky wrote that he and Joan were at Nora's and they were going home soon.

I startle at the sudden loud clap of thunder and shift my gaze to the window. I watching the rain beat on the glass. I feel so comfortable that I don't even want to turn on the light. I just lazily pull on my white underwear.

Trying to ignore Vincent's motorcycle helmet on my desk, I sit on the bed and look out the window, watching the drops roll down the glass chaotically, beautifully. If Ricky sees Vincent's helmet, how can I explain everything to him?

How do I explain to myself that Vincent's motorcycle helmet is where it is now?

I listen to the sound of rain and thunder, wondering if I should open the window to enjoy this pleasure to the fullest. I touch the cold floor with my feet, stand up and at that moment the door opens behind me. I forget how to breathe, because I was supposed to be at home alone.

Was...

Ricky and Joe couldn't get back so soon. Whoever entered the room didn't even bother knocking.

Vincent.

I don't know why, but it was this thought that flashed through the very first possible one. A desperate, thirsty thought.

I feel the vibrations of his presence, I hear his breath. For some reason, I suddenly know what his breathing sounds like.

My pulse races in my throat as I turn to face the door. I slowly glance over the silhouette, to which it seems that my whole life has led me since birth. Vincent is standing in the doorway, breathing heavily, as if after a grueling workout. Drops of water from his wet clothes fall right on the floor of my bedroom. Wet hair chaotically frames his face, and he stares at me with a strange look. As if a real war had flared up inside him and he was fighting with himself.

I can't believe this angel broke into my sinful lair without warning.

For the first time, we find ourselves in such a situation, he has entered my territory, and we are completely alone on it, albeit not for long.

"Damn, Vince, you're the last person I expected to see at my bedroom door." My face is turning purple because I said "Vince" out loud.

At the same time, for some reason, I can't pounce on him with questions like "why are you here" or "I'm sorry, I took your helmet."

We just stand and look at each other, and my bed separates us like a barrier. What the hell does all this mean? Why the hell did he show up in my room uninvited, in such a brazen manner? Mom and dad could be at home, and, even worse, Ricky. What the hell is Vincent thinking? I could have just called and I would have brought him that damn helmet.