Hockey Pucks & Pixie Dust

11 - This is the Weirdest Date I've Ever Been On

Storm may as well have said what rather than who. In context with what had happened, the two words were synonymous, and Sindri suspected the man didn't flee because he had nowhere else to go in the middle of nowhere.

The urge to disappear into the fae realm was as strong as the need to throw up, but Sindri did neither, pinned beneath those fearful, intense eyes that had been filled with humor mere moments ago. When that stupid driver decided to endanger their lives and force Sindri's hand.

She inched toward her door as well, prepared just in case with her seatbelt unbuckled, and her hand on the handle. "Please don't freak out," she began, processing several thoughts at once.

Storm kept himself plastered on his end of the vehicle and worked his mouth. "Don't freak out," he echoed slowly. "You sprouted wings and we're in a random snowy countryside when we should be in Phoenix—"

"In a heap of scrap metal shredded into confetti and likely severely injured," Sindri interjected, trying to help him understand she'd just saved his life. "That driver would have hit me and totaled your car if I hadn't acted. Your hockey career could have ended if we'd stayed."

Storm's panicked expression faltered as he sucked in a sharp breath and fell silent. Clearly, he hadn't yet considered the gravity of the situation.

Taking control of the conversation, Sindri attempted to address his other question. "As for your other inquiry, I suppose the simple answer is that I'm a fae." She left the rest unsaid; too much information would overwhelm him if Storm wasn't already questioning his sanity.

Doubt creased Storm's forehead as his hand trembled on the steering wheel. His breathing slowly evened out, and after a minute of silence, he exhaled. "Fae."

It wasn't a question; just a simple, one-syllable statement before he fell quiet again. Unlucky for him, Sindri had infinite patience and a millennium of practice. Releasing the door handle, she folded her hands in her lap and waited for Storm to crack.

Their stare down continued for another minute before he finally looked away, and he let go of the steering wheel to rub his face. After massaging his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, he shook his head. "I don't— This is—" he scratched the back of his neck. "Aren't fairies supposed to like, I don't know, be tiny?"

He pinched his fingers together, and Sindri laughed. She couldn't help it — her size was what he took from all this? When he dropped his head and frowned, Sindri recomposed herself and raised her hand apologetically. "Sorry. Of all the questions to ask, I wasn't expecting that. You're confusing me for a pixie, but they're basically our cousins. I suppose you could think of my kind to be more similar to elves."

"Elves." His eyebrows furrowed. "Like Lord of the Rings with wings?"

Sindri couldn't decide if she should be flattered or offended. The movies were awesome but didn't feel they shared much in common.

She sighed and tried again, waving her hands in a crossed 'X'. "Okay, forget the elves. We have wings, wield magic, and live forever. That's pretty much what you need to know. There are no orcs or rings of power looking to dominate Middle Earth."

Now it was Storm's turn to laugh as he released the seat and ran a hand through his wavy hair. "I'm almost surprised you know what that is. This whole situation is off the chain. I feel like I'm being punked."

Fair. Sindri would have felt the same if she'd been born in this century. No one believed in magic anymore. "We try not to reveal ourselves. It can be dangerous."

"How so?" he asked, shifting in his seat and leaning closer. Then he shivered and switched the air settings to warm while pressing the button for the seat warmer. "Also, I don't suppose we can go someplace a little warmer now that we're out of immediate danger?"