A Thousand Storms

03 alone

I woke up early on Saturday, made myself a bowl of cereal that I got after work, and took a shower. I was not looking forward to going to Charley's, but it had to be done. I wasn't even sure what that rude stranger wanted.

It didn't take long for my apartment to become...personalised. I had never been one to keep my room in order. It somehow always returned to a state of wreckage, but organised wreckage all the same.

I could find my things in my mess of a room, and that was all that mattered, really.

Shoving on a pair of light blue jeans from a pile of clothes I was too lazy to properly put into my closet, I decided to throw on a Regular Show t-shirt that read "AWWWW YEAHYUH!".

I didn't really like leaving my hair down, it just got in the way of practically everything, so I pulled it all into a bun at the crown of my head, and slipped on a pair of oxfords.

My car revved as I switched it into gear, the huge dent at the back still painful to the eye. The streets were busy—they always were, I quickly realized.

It would have been better to walk, I supposed, because the auto repair was not that far from my apartment. But I needed to fix that nasty dent anyway.

My eyes zoomed in on the black and bright orange trademark that read CHARLEY'S in bold. Pulling in, I noticed a few men zoning in on me.

I climbed out, locking it, and shoving my keys back into my pocket. There were murmurs and one was particularly loud—

"Gringa."

I gripped onto my phone tighter, thinking of putting Rhia on speed dial.

The fear that licked up my spine was ice-cold. I calmed myself down. These men didn't know me. They had no reason to hurt me.

Suddenly, there was a low whistle from behind me. I turned to find a tall, young man with jet black hair and dark skin.

He was attractive, save for the grime that covered most of his forearms. Grime wasn't the only thing covering his arms, I realized, when I looked closely. His arms were covered in night-black ink. Intricate tattoos that hissed as they snaked around his forearm to his wrist.

The men from earlier dissipated, as though this man held some sort of authority around here.

I raised a brow.

"Not for you, princess," he said with a feline smile and then he winked, then motioned to my car, "for this beauty over here."

"Makes me feel a little better," I said, dryly.

He chuckled deeply, then held out a hand. "I'm Logan."

He looked down at his hand, as if only just realising the soot covering it, and made to pull back, but I took it anyway.

"Ever," I said.

"Ever what?" he asked, confusion lurking in his dark eyes.

It was my turn to chuckle. "Ever is short for Everly," I explained, "my name."

"Oh," he said, drawing his hand back to the nape of his neck. "My bad."

An amicable silence settled.

"So, what can I do for you, Ever?" Logan asked.

I cleared my throat. "I'm looking for..."

Shit, the idiot hadn't given me his name...

"Have you introduced the princess over here to your tic-tac dick yet, Logan?"

That voice, the tone, the crudeness of it all. I knew it. How could I forget?