A Lacey Christmas

1. Storm

Note: For Incongruous, A Lacey Christmas takes place a month ahead from now—since it is currently November in the current chapters of Incongruous—but you don't need to worry about any spoilers!

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[ S T O R M ' S P O V ]

"What are you doing?"

The hole of my shirt is just about to slip past my head when I freeze at the sound of her voice—dripping with suspicion. She knows. She's been watching me like a hawk all day ever since we woke up and made eye contact with each other. Her heavy, sleepy eyes had narrowed at me before I could even try to hide the gleam in mine. When she was watching me ever so intently during breakfast, I couldn't help but wink roguishly at her, just to rile her up even more.

Holding back a grin as I do, I gather the dark shirt back into my hands and turn towards her, shirtless. "Putting a shirt on. Wanna help me?"

"You're up to something," she accuses, slim arms sternly folded across her chest. When I feign an innocent look, her voice almost drops to a cute growl. "I can see it on your face. You have that look."

"What look?"

"The one that says you're up to no good or that you're about to do something that I most probably will not like."

Damn. She's good.

I definitely am up to something and she most definitely won't like what I'm planning to do—but I'm gonna do it anyway, of course. I shouldn't even have to sneak around in secret to do something as normal as I'm planning to do. But Valencia, as always, loves to make the most simplest things difficult.

"I'm just...going out," I say.

"To do what?"

Change the topic. Distract her.

"Are you doing that clingy-suspicious-girlfriend thing?" My mouth stretches into a taunting smile. "I didn't know that was your style."

Valencia's large, doll-like eyes roll towards the ceiling. "It's not. I don't give a crap whether you go out or not. I just give a crap about what's hiding behind that," a nimble finger is circled in front of my mouth, "devil smile of yours."

Just because it'll aggravate her even more, I stay silent and flick my tongue over the tip of her finger that's still pointed towards my mouth.

"Storm!" On cue, she burns a deep shade of fuchsia and shoves my chest. "Stop licking me!"

The unintentional innuendo in her words doesn't go unnoticed by me, but then again, no innuendo innocently made by her ever gets past me. Usually I'd take this as an opportunity to tease and fluster her endlessly about it, except I know I can't if I want to exit this house without leaving her fuming behind me. So when she asks me what I'm up to again, I decide to give in.

"I'm going shopping."

Her forehead puckers, eyebrows knitting together and face adorably screwing up.

"Christmas shopping," I clarify.

Pouty lips settle into a thin line. "For me?"

"Nah, for the old lady next door. I heard she's into those Mrs Claus style Christmas bikinis."

"Storm!"

"There's no need to be jealous. I would buy you something too but you specifically told me not to."