The Mighty Storm (Raura Revised)

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"I can't believe you came to pick me up!" I say still beaming a smile, releasing myself from him.

Ross lets me go, but keeps me close, taking hold of my hand.

And once again my skin simmers under his hand. I wonder if I'll ever stop feeling like this from his touch.

A big part of me hopes not.

"Well, I'm glad I did now, if it meant getting a welcome like that," he grins. He's being all flirty again.

"I was just hanging around the hotel, so I thought I'd come ... sorry I couldn't come in the airport to meet you ... you know," he shrugs.

"I know." He'd have probably been recognised and mobbed in ten seconds flat.

It must be pretty hard being a prisoner of your own success. Never able to go anywhere alone.

A simple thing like walking through an airport alone would probably mean the world to him if he was able to do it.

Dave gets in the driver's seat, turns the engine on and the radio comes to life.

I pull my seat belt on, using one hand, as Ross doesn't seem willing to let go of my hand.

"How was your flight?" Ross asks, as we start moving out of the airport.

"It was awesome thanks to you – did you know you get free champagne in first class ... of course you know ..." I peter off at his amused expression.

"You make me laugh." He squeezes my hand, rubbing his thumb over my skin, continuously leaving a delicious trail wherever it goes.

"In a good way, I hope?"

"Always in a good way." He turns his head to the side, directing a fixed look at me. I shiver inside, looking away.

We're quiet for a moment, before Ross says anything more.

"So I spoke to your dad last week."

"You did!" My face nearly cracks with the smile on it.

His lips quirk up at the corner. "Yeah, he called to thank me for the donation..." He lifts an eyebrow.

"What?!" I say innocently. "You never said it was a secret. You just said you didn't want him thinking you were a flashy bastard – and he didn't." I push my lips out into a pout.

He shakes his head, laughing at my expression.

"So you talked?" I probe.

"We did, it was good to talk to him after all these years. He's still just the same."

"You talk music?"

"Of course." He slides me an amused look. "So I brought something for you," he says, changing tact.

He reaches into his jean pocket, pulling something back out. I recognise it instantly. It's the friendship bracelet I made him all those years ago. It's a little frayed, the white, black and blue fabric faded slightly.

"I can't believe you actually kept it." My words come out with my breath.

"You thought I was lying?" He screws his face up.

"No! I'm just surprised ... hang-on." I let go off his hand and reach forward into my bag in the foot-well, unzipping in the inside pocket to I get what I'm looking for.

My friendship bracelet.

I brought mine with me too. I put it in my carry on; I didn't want it in my suitcase in case it got lost in transit. This bracelet is irreplaceable, so I wanted it safe.