Downpour

Thanks to Chloe for initiating this story theme. I enjoyed the challenge of writing for it and I hope you enjoy reading the result. Please leave a comment if you'd like to, because I really appreciate reading them.

Everyone in this story is over the age of 18.

+++

"Well, fuck this. Fuck this for a game of soldiers. Ughh. Fuckity fuck."

Two sodden, useless bags slide to the ground and lounge around my feet like sorry dogs. I stab them with my best hard stare. One slumps even further and a green pepper, no make that a 'capsicum' since that's what it's called here, falls onto the greasy concrete and wobbles as if having a good old laugh at me.

"Fuck!"

And that's my last statement on the matter. It's been a shit day. Totally, utterly shit. Mum called me this morning to rant at me about my thieving brother, like I can do anything about it. Not. Nothing went right at work either, unless delivering the news of a twenty per cent overspend to a new client can be counted as good. And now this torrential rain has caught me on my way back from the shops. I'm soaked to the skin and both paper bags have pretty much disintegrated.

I peer out at the street. I've never seen or heard rain like it. The traffic, normally an unstoppable procession, has come to an almost complete standstill. The sound of the rain on the awning over my head is thunderous.

"You're English."

I bite back a shriek, turning round to locate the source of the voice. I thought I was all alone here, but no. There, leaning against the pawn shop window, is a tall-ish bloke, all limbs and wild hair.

"I'm what? What?"

"Sorry. Didn't mean to make you jump," in a laconic voice. "I'm guessing you didn't see me standing here?"

"No. I didn't."

I stare at him. Almost as hard a stare as I gave the shopping bags just now. It doesn't appear to have much effect. He doesn't wither to dust or explode into smithereens. In fact he seems to return it with interest. It's my skin that's burning up.

"What's a game of soldiers? Never heard a that."

"A what?" I frown at him, then get it. "Oh. That. It's just a sweary thing."

"A sweary thing?"

Is he making fun of me?

"Yeah, you know. It means... well, it's just a way of saying you're fed up with the, um, the situation."

He's definitely cracking a smile. I frown harder.

"That's a new one on me," he grins.

I blow my breath out. He's got that lithe, feral look they have around here. Of someone who's spent as much of their childhood in the water as on land. Long muscles. Loose strides. Barefoot most of the time, eschewing the difference between beach and pavement. And very green eyes. Well ok, the eyes are particular to this one here.

"It's what my dad used to say. He was a squaddie. Most of what he said came from the army one way or the other."

Why am I explaining myself? I bend to pick up the errant pepper and hold it in my hand as I straighten up, feeling his eyes on me.

"Got far to go with that?"

He points to my shopping spilling out of the soggy, split bags at my feet.

"No, not really. But it was pelting down and the bags sort of disintegrated a bit."

He nods. Turns his eyes to the rain sheeting down from the awning all around us.

"It'll ease off in a few minutes."

I contemplate the view, dubious about his prognosis. It's my fourth week here but my first rainfall, so what do I know?

"Is this how it always rains here?"

"You're from England?"

He's moved closer.

"Yes. That must be obvious?"

He raises both hands. A gesture of surrender. Maybe I need to wind my neck in a bit. It's not his fault.

"Sorry. Bit of a shit day if you know what I mean. This has just been the icing on the cake."

I gesture at the rain, noticing the green pepper still in my hand. Something that finally makes me smile.

"Icing on the cake?"

His face is creased in a big grin again.

"Yeah. That."

He nods. We stand looking out at the road. Maybe the rain is letting up. Just a bit. I glance at him, trying not to turn my head and be obvious about it. Two tattoos that I can see. Hair of a length my dad would tut at. Dark shorts and t-shirt. Wet all over. No shoes. Green eyes.

His face splits into another grin and I feel busted.

"Right," he says in that way that's between a statement and a question. And bends to pick up one of my bags, the black waistband of his underwear peeking out, 'BONDS' emblazoned across his hips in big white letters. He stands, hitching up his shorts.

Just like that, it's stopped raining. As if someone's turned the tap off upstairs. The traffic is moving again. Rivers of water sluice along the gutters. Confused, I put out a hand, but he's already wrestled one of the bags into his arms.

"I'll take this. You can't carry them both."

I hesitate. And then -- fuck it -- if he's a psychopath, so what. It'll just prove I shouldn't have got out of bed this morning. Or tramped halfway around the world, come to that. As I pick up the other bag he says, "I'll follow you," and I shiver.

He doesn't follow me, exactly, but walks next to me. We don't say much. I worry about taking him up to the door, dire 'stranger danger' stuff swirling around in my guts, but reason that there are six flats in the building, so maybe it's not so bad? I'm on the top floor too, so he'd have to work his way through at least four other flats before he got to mine. I imagine that the desperate screams from the neighbours would alert me to his murderous rampage and give me time to jump off the balcony to save myself? Maybe.

"Hey, buddy." A white truck pulls alongside us, a darker-haired version of Green Eyes sticking his head out of the window. "Long time."

"Hey Mike. How're you going?" Green Eyes slows down. Comes to a stop at the kerb.

"Yeah, good. You get caught in the rain?"

"Does it look like it much?"

They both laugh easily. They know each other. I relax a tiny bit. Surely murdering psychopaths don't have friends they laugh with like that?

"Wanna call me later? I could use your advice on a couple a things?" sliding his eyes to me. "Hey."

"Hi," I respond, not sure if I want to introduce myself or not.

"Sure. After nine tonight?" Green Eyes offers.

"Too easy."

A plan agreed, we all move off and away. It's just starting to rain again, more lightly this time, as we reach my building.

"Here?"

I nod.

"Need help from here, or --?"

"Oh I'm fine from here, thank you."

He puts the bag down on top of the mailboxes.

"Thanks for helping me."

"Yeah no worries."

There's an awkward moment where neither of us moves. My skin prickles.

"See you around."

And with that, he walks off, back towards the main road. I watch him until he reaches the corner. Then hurry inside, not wanting to be caught looking. As if he'd look back anyway.

It's only when I see myself in the bathroom mirror I realise my wet shirt is almost completely transparent. I squeeze my eyes tight and sigh, mum's voice banging in my ears; "Just be careful out there. You don't know the rules, Marie. Different rules in different countries, so you be on your guard." Rules. Yeah -- that's my family. All rules and no discipline.

+++

"Hello again."

I look up and raise my hand to shade my eyes against the setting sun. It's him. Standing in front of me, a board under his arm, dripping ocean water from his lean frame.

"Oh! Hi!"

"Better weather today." His face cracks into that wide grin.

"Yes. Beautiful actually. It's like the rain scrubbed everything clean and shiny."

I stop. Embarrassed.

"Yeah right."

He's still grinning, but not like he's laughing at me. I dig my toes into the sand. Water bubbles around them.

"Taking a walk?"

I nod. Except I wasn't. I'd come to a standstill, staring out at the horizon. Which I'm sure he must have seen. I tighten my grip on the shoes I'm carrying in my hand.

"I'm still getting used to the idea of being able to walk on the beach every day."

"Yeah? I've seen you along here before. It's a special place eh?"

I nod again, feeling the tension working into my gut.

"You working around here?"

"Um, yes. For a friend of mine. She runs her own business."

"Yeah?"

He's turned around to walk alongside me. We kick through the edge of the surf into the low sunlight.

"One of her employees has gone travelling for a year, so I'm filling in for her."

"Sweet as."

"I hope so. At least this week has been better than last week. Sorry about that. You saw me at a bad time."

I sneak a look at him.

"You're alright. We all have shitty days," green eyes suddenly glimmering.

I smile back.

"So, do you work around here too?"

"At the Surf Club. Have you been? You need to know someone who's a member to get you in."

He's pointing at the place that overlooks the beach. Big blue umbrellas and glass balustrades.

"It must have a great view."

"You should come in one night after work. Give them my name at the door and they'll let you in."

I breathe in.

"I'm there most nights except Sundays," he offers, squinting at me.

"Oh. Um, ok, maybe -- yes. One evening, maybe."

God, could I sound more nervous?

"I'd like that. Bring your mate, if ya like."

He slows. Swaps the board to his other arm and offers his hand out.

"Ask for me. Noah."

"Noah?"

He nods. "Noah Holland. And you?"

"Marie. Marie Cooper."

His hand is firm and warm.

"Awesome, Marie Cooper. Gotta run, but see you later."

He turns. I watch him padding down the beach in his black wetsuit. An easy gait. Nice hips. And want to sink into the sand when he turns back, grins, lifting his hand in salute.

+++

"Come on, let's go. Why not? We have to celebrate getting this new project somehow. The Surf Club sounds as good a place as any, especially if you can get us in, Marie."

The look on Lisa's face is all too familiar. She's set her mind to something and nothing is going to derail it. As soon as I'd begun to tell her about meeting Noah I'd regretted it. The sparkle in her eyes was enough to warn me she was much too thrilled about it. Ever since getting me here, she's been on at me to start dating again.

"And I'd get to cast my expert eye over this Noah Holland candidate."

She licks her lips and winks. I'm forced to laugh.

'You're the worst, Lisa."

"Haha. You wouldn't have me any other way, admit it."

We're still laughing as we cross the road and climb the steps up to the club.

"Noah? Ah, yeah. Just a minute."

I watch the woman at the desk pick up the phone and mess about with some papers in front of her. Lisa taps her fingers, impatient. I swallow. What if he was just a mad fraud?

"Hey hi!"

He strolls out of a door to our right, looking a bit less wild. At least, his hair looks as though it might have seen a comb today, and he's wearing more formal clothes than I've seen him in so far. So far? What am I thinking?

"Um, hello. I -- um -- we -- uh, this is Lisa." I point at Lisa in desperation.

"Good to meet you, Lisa. And to see you again Marie Cooper. I'll show you round," his mouth kicks up at one side.

He walks us through the bar and restaurant out onto the terrace. Hitches at the waistband of his khakis. I have to move out of Lisa's range to stop her from jabbing me in the ribs.

"Oh wow. The view is amazing."

He turns to face me.

"Yeah, pretty nice hey?"

For some reason my body heat starts to spike. I look down at my toes but he's still watching me when I raise my head. As if he's studying me. I start to hum under my breath, searching for something to say. Anything.

"Did you come for a drink, or you eating here too?"

Still nothing. Lisa jumps to my rescue.

"Drinks. We're celebrating."

"Yeah?"

His eyes flick to her, then back.

"The bar, then."

We follow him back inside where he steps behind the bar and pours us both a large glass of sauvignon blanc.

"Cheers," he pushes the glass towards my hand.

"Join us?"

That's Lisa.

"Nah, you're alright. Long night ahead."

We raise our glasses, awkwardly. He's still smiling as we weave our way back to the terrace for the last few moments of the day. I pull on my sweatshirt, feeling the chill as the sun sinks low. We watch in silence.

"I can't get enough of these sunsets, Lisa."

We clink glasses.

"The colours are amazing. I've never seen such perfect baby blues and pinks together in one sky."

"I'm thrilled, Marie. I know you weren't completely convinced you were going to like it here, you're such a townie. But there's something special about living so close to the ocean."

"I think I'm beginning to see that."

"And this is our winter. Bit different to winter in grey old London, isn't it?"

"Definitely. I can't imagine what the summer is going to be like."

I sit back.

"So, he's cute enough to turn a queer girl straight. Especially with a bum like that."

I cough.

"Lisa, honestly?"

She's smirking over her wine glass.

"What? Marie come on! I'm not saying anything you don't already know. I see how you look at him. If your eyes could dance, they would." She takes a sip. "And so would his. He likes you."

I make some noises of protest, but acknowledge it's more an effort to shout down my own hopes than anything else. What if Lisa's wrong?

+++

"See you again. Down on the beach, maybe?"

His words roll around my head, lying here in the dark. Were they a promise, or just a casual way of saying goodnight?

I'm too restless to sleep. Too much wine and not enough food, for one thing. Memories of his hands uncorking the wine bottle, holding out the glass for me, the slightest touch of our fingers, for another.

I kick my legs out of bed and stand at the window. It's not that the moon is upside down here so much as sideways. It's a constant, if beautiful, reminder of how far I am from home. I choke down the tears that suddenly rise up in me. Definitely too much wine. And a hot mess of other stuff, all of it I've been trying to put behind me. Marginally psychotic parents. A brother on his way into prison, by the looks of it. A pathetic end to a disastrous relationship. The usual. Everyone has their burdens to carry, don't they?

+++

It's been windy all day and this, plus the amount of wine consumed last night, have blessed me with a mammoth headache. But now I'm on the beach exposed to the full blast of it, it's clearing my head. I curl my toes into the sand, watching it suck and sink around my feet. Hypnotised by the overlapping patterns made by the sand, the water and the bubbles.

A huge dog races into view, tongue out and eyes wild.

I take a step back. Nearly stumble.

"Cassie! Come here!"

"Oh, it's you."

"Good to see you too, Marie."

I suck at my lip.

"She won't hurt you, she's a big softie" he smiles. "Not a fan of dogs?"

His eyes squint at me as he pulls at the dog's collar, holding her close to him. The wind is whipping his hair all around but he pays that no attention.

"Is she yours?"

"Nah. My boss's. I'm taking her out while he's dropping his kids off."

"Mm. Where I come from dogs like that roam in packs for safety."

Another awkward pause.

I look away. Then down.

"Do you ever wear shoes?"

He laughs; a sharp bark of a noise. Cassie the dog gives him an adoring look.

"Not often. And never on the beach."

"Oh. I guess I'm just marking myself out as a complete foreigner."

He shrugs.

"Come for a drink later? I can get off work early for doing this favour for my boss. If you want?"

He pauses.

"Bring Lisa too, if you'd like."

"To the Surf Club?"

"No. I spend enough time there as it is. Do you know where Vinny's is?"

I nod. It's on my way home. He must know that.

"Eight thirty good?"

"Um, yes. Eight thirty."

"Come hungry. They make the best burgers on the Gold Coast."

"Ok." I grin like stupid.

He nods. Lets go of Cassie's collar and she races directly into the sea, barking at the waves.

"Later then."

+++

He's standing at the bar, his back to the door. In jeans. They make his legs look even longer. And -- yes -- shoes. Vans, I think. Skater shoes anyway. And a long-sleeved shirt. Lisa was right about his bum. I suck at my lip. See the girl behind the bar tip her chin in my direction and watch as he turns around. Pushes himself off the bar.

"Hey Marie. You came on your own?" his eyes scoping around me.

"I did. I've been here before and know there's more than one exit, so I reckoned I'd be safe to come by myself. Plus it's a busy place. Lots of witnesses," I deadpan.

"Sure. Can't be too careful?" A glint of a smile.

"Right."

I look around. Our table has a view of the entire place. Probably even a peek of the ocean in daylight.

"I suppose you know everyone here?"

"That work here? Yeah. Bit of an occupational hazard, being in the same business in a small town like this."

"Is that how we got the best table in the place?"

"Probably."

He smiles. I look down at the menu, unsure if I can take his gaze.

"What are ya having?" he asks.

"I thought this was where the burgers were to die for, or did I get that wrong?"

He laughs. I press my knees together under the table.

"So, Marie Cooper, what's brought you all the way out here to Queensland's finest? Broken home, broken relationship or an offer from the criminal courts you couldn't refuse?"

"Well, Noah Holland, since you're asking, it's probably a combination of all three. Although it's my brother who's in trouble with the law, not me as such. But it sure makes the other side of the world an attractive option right now."

He sits back in the chair, his shirt tightening over his chest.

"Guess I touched a nerve," he says after a few seconds of contemplating the look on my face.

I shrug. "S'ok. It's just the average family story where I'm from."

"And where's that?"

"East London. Hackney. It was a right shit-hole when I was growing up. They tarted it up for the Olympics. Makes it look prettier in the rear view mirror but it's still best experienced only in the rear view mirror, if you know what I mean?"

He's laughing. Really laughing.

"I think I do. Not planning on going back there, then?"

"Not if I can help it. I mean, I'd managed to move away before coming here, to a better area of London. But this is definitely a substantial upgrade. Sun, sea, surf and fewer dirty syringes per square mile."

"Life is good here, eh? Although I'm not sure about the syringes. Have you noticed the clinic down on Fifth Avenue?"

We slipstream into an easy evening together. The burgers live up to their billing. He makes me laugh too, his eyes lighting up whenever I have to put my food back on the plate to catch my breath. It's a million miles away from the miserably stilted dates I'd put myself through back home. And even further away from the weird rituals of a night out with Alex.

He walks me home. The streets are pretty dark here. I'm so used to city life I forget that night time isn't the colour of sodium orange everywhere. But it's not the dark I'm thinking about. It's his proximity. Hints of his smell and the slightest brush of his arm against mine as we walk. I can hardly think of anything else and marvel at my ability to put one foot in front of the other without tumbling into the gutter.

"Thanks for inviting me out," I begin, pulling the door key out of my pocket. "Dinner was -- "

His face is suddenly close. My pulse jacks up and I put my hand out, scrabbling to grab onto the doorframe. For a horrible moment I think he might be having second thoughts, his eyes seem so cool. The feathery touch of his fingertip under my chin confuses me and I lift my face in surprise. The first impression of his mouth is soft. A burst of electricity. I'm sure he reacts to my sudden intake of breath, two fingers caressing the delicate underside of my throat now, tempting me closer. He presses against me a little more firmly. My head swims. As kisses go, this is right up there. I run my hands around his neck. He pulls away, but not far.