Control Freak ✔️

44 the storm

It was one of those downpours. The rain was thick and heavy, pounding against the city walls marching on to an endless siege. The lightning lit the darkness an electric blue. Storms had a way with Jasmine. She lay in bed listening to it as it stirred her awake. So, she got out of bed, thinking she'd stand out on the balcony and immerse herself in the sound and smell, to stick her arm out, and let it bathe in the falling water.

She pushed the sliding door as she stepped out into the blackness. She curled her fingers around the soaking wet railing, tossed her head back and inhaled. The aroma brought a smile to her lips. The lightning flashed. The thunder chased close behind with a world-shattering boom. It shook her eyelids open. She whipped her head back to her balcony door. Another lightning flash. An outline of a face she used to know. She nearly tumbled over the railing, clutching her chest as she gasped, "Caleb!"

"Nice night, huh?" he muttered nonchalantly, seemingly unfazed by the dire implications of his breaking and entering a home.

Jasmine sat on the bed, tightly grasping her phone in her two sweaty hands, kicking herself for not dialing the necessary digits on it to save herself. Instead, she let him take a shower. He was in the bathroom, taking a shower. She racked her brain trying to come up with a recollection of the recent events that would've made her actions seem at all sane. It had been five long minutes, and still, she had nothing.

You really did it this time Jas, she thought. You have a wanted killer, here, with you, casually bathing in your house. Boy, you sure know how to pick 'em. Mom was right.

Jasmine leaned up against the wall between the bedroom and the adjacent bathroom. The door was cracked slightly; enough for the crawling steam to warm her cheek as she stood there listening to him wash himself. This wasn't the Caleb she remembered. Well, no shit, the Caleb you remembered wasn't a wanted criminal, she thought. But it was more than that. There was a certain steadiness in the way he moved, a boldness in the way he looked at her. The Caleb she remembered was a nervous, fidgety guy, too afraid to keep his eyes on any one thing for longer than two seconds. Being around him made her more confident, because she felt like she was in control of their interaction. She could coax him to go wherever she chose to lead him. But this Caleb, made the back of her head hot and her breath short. The sight of him caused her heart to take off running, frightened by what her mind fantasized about doing with him. Before she knew it, she had pressed her fingertips to the door, widening the crack ever so slightly, just to take a peek.

The running water abruptly shut off. Jasmine tore herself away. What are you doing, you idiot, call the police! Now's the perfect time, he's naked! Oh God, he's naked...

She listened to the curtain rings skitter along the bar as he stepped out of the tub before barreling into the room. "Stay right where you are, Caleb! I'm warning youuu—uuu," she cried as her conviction was quickly stamped out and her cheeks sent up in flames, as her eyes drifted to where they weren't supposed to go.

"What?" he murmured.

Fuck.

All Jasmine could offer him while his wet clothes were in the dryer was a pair of baggy cotton sweatpants. She quickly realized that this wouldn't aid her much in summoning up the conviction to call the police. She stood with her back to the exit while he sat on the edge of the bed, pushing his feet through the ankle cuffs. This definitely wasn't the Caleb she remembered. The Caleb she remembered was a frail and lanky guy, who looked like he had never seen the inside of a gym much less a sit-up. The Caleb in front of her now was a physical marvel: she let her eyes trace his broad shoulders and down along the pulsing vein slashing over his rock- hard bicep, the scars of bullet wounds he wore like tattoos. Her gaze lingered over his strong chest before gliding over the hilly mounds of his eight-pack.

"Why did you come here?" she finally managed to blurt out.

He was slow to respond. But, he looked at her, watching her fidget with her hair and curl her toes. "The cops are watching all the obvious spots—my school, my dad's house my mom's house—they don't know I know you. You're the only one I trust right now, Jasmine."