laur

"No."

Garrett said at the same time as you said, "Yes."

Just to prove his point, Garrett kissed you again. You swore you could hear Allie spew out an 'ugh' before walking away.

Your hand slid underneath the table to Garrett's thigh, squeezing it a little as he kissed you hard. Garrett licked his bottom lip as he pulled away, looking over your swollen-looking ones with a glint in his eye.

"I swear I've done nothing but kiss you today." You said, licking your own lips. Garrett looked eagerly at them as you did, but made no move to lean in.

You felt his arm move from cupping your neck to just draping over the back of the booth behind you.

"Sounds like a good birthday to me."

"Okay. No need to look so smug with yourself." You rolled your eyes and let your head fall onto his shoulder.

Garrett kissed your forehead, letting you rest neatly tucked up against him.

"Didn't even get a kiss from Dean this year." You pouted.

"Going to pretend I didn't just hear my girlfriend say that." He pretended to sound offended, but he knew what you meant.

Every year Dean has kissed you on the cheek for your birthday, because before your relationship with Garrett you were trying to make him jealous with the help of your best friend Dean. One night, at a house party, things came to a heat when you asked Dean to kiss you, informing him it was just to make Garrett jealous, and he barely made it to a kiss on your cheek before Garrett shoved him out of the way and kissed you instead.

"Can't believe it's been a whole two years since that house party."

"Still think you could have just talked to me, rather than try and kiss my best friend in front of me."

"Really? And what would I have said?" You picked your head up from his shoulder to look up at him, "'Oh hey Garrett. By the way, even though you could literally have any girl on this campus, of which six of them have already thrown themselves at you tonight, I think you should actually be with me.'"

"Baby, it was always gonna be you."

Before you could respond, Dean plated a round of shots on the table.

"Right. I've had enough of you two... Canoodling." Dean, already quite drunk, pointed between you and your boyfriend.

"Canoodling?" You laughed.

"Yeah, are you 85 years old?" Garrett teased, feeling accomplished when it earned another laugh from you.

"Fuck off, Graham." Dean snarled, "This is for the birthday girl." Dean handed you a shot at the same time Garrett took one for himself.

"Thanks, Dean."

"Happy motherfucking birthday, Y/N!"

The surrounding people cheered as Dean shouted.

You swung back the shot of what genuinely tasted like pure methanol, your whole body shivering to try and get rid of the awful taste in your mouth. Dean wasn't phased at all, but he was probably already five shots in.

"You didn't even bring a chaser?" Garrett asked, offended.

"You've got your girlfriend for that." Dean patted Garrett's shoulder before meandering off to the next willing participant of doing shots with him.

"He's so drunk."

"Yeah and you don't want to be kissed by a drunk-Dean."

"Oh really?" You raised your eyebrows at your boyfriends logic, "And what about a drunk-Garrett?"

"That, I think is acceptable."

Garrett leaned forwards, attempting to kiss you again. His arm curling tighter around your neck again to bring you as close as possible to him. No distance between you was the goal apparently.

"No! Absolutely not. Enough of this." Hannah's voice appeared before Garrett could fully commit to kissing you.

"What?" Garrett asked innocently.

"You've been hogging the birthday girl all day. Enough."

"Yeah, but she's my birthday girl. I have a right to hog." Garrett argued. Was it a red flag that your insides melted over that comment? Oh sue you - Garrett Graham can get away with saying anything when it comes to you.

"Um, I'm sat right here." You perked up.

"Yeah, yeah," Hannah brushed you off and crossed her arms over her chest to seem much - much - bigger than she was. "She's coming to dance with us. End of."

"And if she doesn't?"

"Again... Right here..."

Hannah gave a smug smile, clapped her hands twice and made Tucker and Logan appear from nowhere. They instantly grabbed onto Garrett's body, pulling him from the booth as best they could.

The move was not smooth at all.

In fact, you'd had to stop thanks to a short-circuit in your brain when Garrett's top accidentally lifted up to reveal a dark dusting of hair running down from his belly button.

Fuck.

"Quick, quick." Hannah brought you back to the moment.

You successfully shuffled out of the booth with a large protest from Garrett, who looked like someone had just stepped on his favourite toy.

You raised your hands in the air as Disturbia by Rihanna played loud throughout Malone's.

Hannah, Allie, Sabrina and Grace all cheered as they formed a little circle around you. Allie pretended to throw fake money at you as you swayed your hips from side-to-side, bringing your hands down your body.

You laughed as you held out your hand for Hannah to take. She twirled you around in a circle before you returned the gesture.

The girls closed the circle then, all of you joining to form one dancing pack.

Malone's was hot now, no doubt from the endless dancing.

Your neck was sweaty and you couldn't remember that last time that you had a drink.

"I'm going to get a drink." You told Grace, who you knew would pass on the information to the rest of them.

Dispersing from the group as the music changed to play Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! by ABBA, you took note of your boyfriend watching you from across the room with a sulk on his face. His expression brightened when he realised you weren't dancing anymore, but his interested visibly peaking more when you didn't come over to him.

"Vodka cranberry please!" You asked the bartender.

He nodded and got to work, whilst your body still danced to the music. Malone's was playing good music tonight.

Your breath hitched when you felt Garrett's hand snaked around the skin of your waist, beneath your top, to place on either side of your stomach. His front was pressed firmly against your back and you couldn't help but groan at the contact.

Your head rolled back onto his shoulder, eyes closed, as you continued to sway to the music. Surprisingly Garrett swayed along with you.

He didn't miss the opportunity to kiss your neck, earning a small laugh from you.

You thanked the bartender as he deposited the drink on the bar in front of you, Garrett subtly nodding his head to the guy as if to say 'put this drink on my tab'.

"You know," His voice was husky as he spoke close to your ear, "ABBA gets me."

"Oh yeah?"

Garrett’s fingers spread wider against your stomach. “Pretty sure this song is about how devastating it is when your girlfriend abandons you to go dance with her girl friends.”

"Hmm. I thought it was about a group of girl friends going out to find a good-looking man." You took a sip of your drink.

"Well lucky for you, you found me."

You rolled your eyes, though your mouth betrayed you with a smile.

"So humble."

"I try."

Garrett’s chin settled on your shoulder as the two of you swayed absentmindedly to the music. His fingers drummed lazily against your stomach, almost in time with the beat.

"You know," you said, turning slightly in Garrett’s arms, "most boyfriends would probably let their girlfriend dance with her friends on her birthday without acting like they’re being personally victimised."

Garrett gasped softly against your neck. "That’s crazy. Name one."

You laughed again and Garrett visibly brightened at the sound, like he physically couldn’t help it.

Just as you were about to fully turn around in Garrett's arms, Hannah appeared beside you both grabbing onto your arm.

"Photobooth! Now!"

"She's always at the scene of the crime." You heard Garrett sigh as you were once again pulled from him.

"Get over it," Hannah told him. "You’ve spent the entire night attached to her like a backpack."

"A very handsome backpack."

You looked over your shoulder just in time to catch Garrett watching you go with the same wounded expression from earlier.

Honestly, it was a little ridiculous how much your chest warmed at the sight.

Because Garrett Graham - campus hockey star - looked genuinely miserable every time someone stole you away from him for longer than five minutes.

The photobooth is far too small to fit all five of you and your friends in, but you somehow make it work.

You all pose with a bunch of stupid poses; kissing and squishing each other's cheeks, trying to create finger hearts with each other and just generally laughing so much that you were all worried you might pee yourselves.

Sabrina had recorded the entire time in the photobooth on her phone, which was going to be so funny to watch back later.

They all fell out of the photobooth one at a time. Grace and Sabrina decided they were going to get another round of drinks for everyone, whilst Allie and Hannah decided to the bathroom together.

You were looking at the photo strip that had been printed, when the curtain was pulled across the entrance again and you were being pinned back against the wall of the photobooth.

"You're never beating the backpack allegations, you know?" You teased as you smiled up at Garrett.

A little curl fell down over his forehead and you reached up to fix it instantly - almost like it was second nature at this point.

"Missed you."

"Missed you too." You replied, "Want to take some photos?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Come sit here." Garrett moved and patted his lap, already sat down on the small bench inside the photo booth. He pulled on your hand, forcing you to sit on top of his thighs.

You tried not to focus on how strong and sturdy they felt beneath you.

You settled comfortably sideways on his thighs, wrapping your arms around his shoulders so that you didn’t slide off.

Garrett made sure that his arms were firmly around your waist so he could keep you sat where he wanted.

It said ‘pay to start’ on the screen, you opened your phone to open up your bank app and caught sight of you lock screen.

It was a pretty picture of your boyfriend, sitting on a beach with an ice-cream. He was laughing at something you had said and as a result had gotten ice-cream on the tip of his nose. It had been one of your favourite days ever, so you just had to keep it as your lock screen.

“You changed your lock screen.” Garrett said.

“Yeah, I did.”

“What happened to the picture of us two?” He asked.

“Preferred this one of you.” 

Instead of saying anything to you, he leant in and gave you a few kisses on your neck whilst your phone payed for the machine to start working.

“Stop. You’ll give me a hickey for these photos.”

“And?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your smirk. Two seconds later you had to shove his face away as he started to kiss you in the same spot again.

The photobooth screen started to count down from five seconds and you positioned yourself better in front of the camera.

Garrett tightened his arms around your waist and brought you closer in to him.

The first photo was both of you just smiling into the camera. Your heads just laying on each other and squeezing each other tight, your smiles just showing how happy you both were.

The second photo Garrett looked at you so you turned to face him, his eyes sparkling at you with so much love. You rested one of your hands on his cheek and kept on looking at him as the photo clicked.

The third photo was entirely candid, after Garrett had made a joke. You laughed so loud you nearly fell backwards and it only made the entire situation funnier. The photo was captured of the both of you without you even noticing.

The last photo Garrett took the lead and kissed you.

"I love you." You whispered against his lips.

"I love you too." He mumbled against your lips.

Garrett stopped kissing you long enough to reach over your shoulder and grab the photo strips as they printed. You smiled instantly at the sight of them.

"Oh my god, the third one..."

Your laugh caught in your throat slightly as you looked closer.

In every single photo, Garrett was looking at you.

Even the first one. Even when you’d both been smiling at the camera, his eyes were tilted slightly toward your face instead.

"What?" Garrett asked softly, noticing you staring at the strip of photos intensely.

"Nothing."

His hands rubbed absently up and down your waist, "Tell me."

"You're not looking at the camera in any of these."

The night his throat is almost torn out by a leopard is the night that everything changes. He feels it’s putrid breath hot on his face, it’s claws sinking into his skin, tearing through his flesh and instead of welcoming the oblivion as he always imagined he would he fights. He fights because in his final moments his thoughts are of you, of the girl he fell in love with back in Montana.

The one he taught to shoot on Sunday afternoons, who raced with him on her horse across the pastures until they were both wild and breathless, tumbling into the grass, making love underneath the sun. The one he made a promise to by wrapping a daisy around her ring finger, one she’d still been wearing the day he left.

It’s a week later he begins to read the letters. You’d stopped sending them years ago but he still kept every single one of them, along with his Aunt Cara’s. He’s never written back, he hadn’t wanted to fill your head with the horrors he was experiencing overseas.

It takes him half the night to work through with them. He reads about your life in his absence, how you still bathe in the stream where he undressed you for the first time, how your Papi passed away so the ranch now belongs to your brother, he lives your highs, your lows and then eventually your resolution.

You let me go a long time ago, you say in your final letter, maybe it’s time for me to do the same.

His tears, they stain the ink because you’re probably married by now to one of the other men that tried to court you, a couple of babes running around your ankles.

He begins to work through Cara’s letters then, a glass of whiskey in his hand for fortification. He catches glimpses of you through the pages, your life is still inevitably entwined within The Yellowstone. His Aunt Cara thought the world of you before he left and evidently she still does.

It’s the final one that makes him pack up his things, the one that details the shooting on the way back from Bozeman.

Your Kit, it reads, she shot finer than most the men out there that day and she paid the price for it with a bullet. The doctor says it’s in God’s hands now.

His brother, his uncle, Jack and now you…

He isn’t sure his heart can endure the loss.

He books passage to the Americas the next day, sending word over the wire of his homecoming.

I’m on my way, he writes on the paperwork before handing it over to the ship’s captain. I’ll be home as soon as I can.

Love Spencer? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

“Hm?” The boy was still yet to pull his attention away from the two classmates that were huddled close together at a table tucked into the corner, giggling inaudibly. Fieryo seemed to snap out of it suddenly, head turning back to his peers, “Why, yes. I’m quite alright.”

This made the girls glance uneasily at one another, seeing as his borderline scary smile was still resting eerily upon his features.

Another one of the girls cleared her throat from beside him, boldly leaning forward and placing her hand delicately on top of his forearm that rested against the table, “Are you certain-”

“If you’ll excuse me.” It was almost as if the prince was oblivious to his blatantly rude attitude as he all but shrugged off the girl's touch and began striding across the room, where he had once more set his gaze upon the thing that had made his breath hitch upon first sight.

You were sat down beside a munchkin boy that- despite your best efforts- you could not for the life of you remember the name of.

Earlier that day in one of your classes, you had been paired with him for a project and while you had never spoken to him before, he had approached you after class with a good-natured joke that had made you laugh and immediately warm up to him.

Even as you wracked your brain tirelessly during the walk from the halls outside of the classroom to the library, you had been yet to come up with a name that went with his face. And as horrible as you felt about it, you knew it would be worse asking for a refresher, seeing as you had been zoning out when the professor was assigning the partners and you had been driven into a near frenzy when you hadn’t heard the name of yours.

He was intelligent and kind, though, and you did not mind working with him in the slightest. There were much worse partners you could have gotten paired with during the class.

A throat cleared from above the two of you, causing both of your eyes to shift upwards, “Hello, darling.” The owner of the voice warmly greeted.

Speak of the devil. Or the prince.

The boy that stood above the pair of you was the one you had initially been dreading that you had been paired with. Fiyero.

Ever since he joined part way into the school year, the menace would not leave you alone. You had met during his first night, having accidentally ran into him- literally- whilst you were hurrying back from the library to your dorm, and your books had been sent flying every which way.

Though he had immediately apologized and dropped to his knees beside you to help you pick up your scattered belongings, what he did next was what sent off the alarm bells in your head.

As if he hadn’t even glanced at you before trying to pick up your books, when he went to hand you one, he froze all together, arm partially outstretched. His eyes locked on yours and his lips had parted slightly.

All you did was raise a singular brow at him, internally concerned that you had some leftover dinner residue on your face, and that seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he had been sent into.

“Why, hello there,” He titled his head to the side, a charming smile blooming on his face, “My name is Prince Fiyero Tigelaar, darling. What’s yours?”

You knew who he was- of course you did- he was all anyone had been talking about for the last seven hours since he had arrived. And of course, that also meant that you knew you weren’t the first one he was trying to charm.

Setting your jaw, you had quietly murmured your name before quickly scooping up the rest of your books, thanking him quickly before scurrying off on your way without a glance back in his direction.

Turned out, stubbornness was one of his- many, in your opinion- annoying traits.

He was quick to rise to his feet as well, striding after you until you were hurrying along together side by side, “Late for an appointment, are we?” He teased, an easy smile resting on his features now.

All it took was a quick, sidelong glare from you to have the smile dropping from his features, confusion replacing it.

“Save it.” You snipped, arms tightening around your books. You were unwilling to allow yourself to fall into the same trap that so many of your peers already had. That trap being five foot eleven and currently had a frown pulling at his features.

“I don’t understand-” He tried speaking.

“Shocker.” Came your interruption with a roll of your eyes.

He stopped walking all together after that, staring after you with a look that resembled a kicked- puppy.

To be honest, you had thought that night was your first and last ever interaction with Fiyero, but apparently, you were wrong. So very wrong.

After that night, Fiyero had apparently made it his life's mission to figure out why you hated him- none of the other students did, so what did he do that was so bad to you?

Whether it was sitting next to you in the dining hall uninvited and talking your ear off, or waiting in the halls for you after every class- even the ones he wasn’t in with you- and walking alongside you to wherever your next destination was, it was like you couldn’t shake him no matter what you did.

Despite your best efforts not to, over time, you had become accustomed to his constant presence. Slowly, you had found yourself despising his companionship less and less, but you still refused to throw yourself at his feet like all of your other classmates did.

You weren’t oblivious, you saw the way he flirted with many other students when he wasn’t directly by your side, and because of that, you would not allow yourself to fall so easily like they had.

“What do you want, Tigelaar?” You droned in unamusement, crossing your arms over your chest and gazed up at the boy with eyebrows raised, waiting.

Gone from your features was the soft laughter that he had noticed lingering across the room as the munchkin boy from beside you had said words Fiyero- much to his annoyance- could not hear.

What was he saying to make you smile like that? To make you laugh?

Fiyero wasn’t oblivious either. He was surprisingly observant when it came to you, actually.

He was in the class that the partners had been assigned in, sat in the back with his fingers crossed tightly under the desk in hopes that your names would get called together. Being that he was in the back of the classroom, he had a perfect view of you, in the front, constantly scribbling down notes and drinking in everything the professor was saying.

Because of this, he also knew that you hadn’t a single clue who the boy next to you was before this evening.

So how could he be bringing a smile out of you when Fiyero had never been able to do so himself?

“Well?” Apparently the currently brooding prince had been silent for too long, leaving impatience to seep from your tone and the munchkin boy to glance between the two of you.

As if he hadn’t missed a beat, he beamed down at you, a light in his eye that wasn’t forced in the slightest as he gazed upon you, “Can’t I just drop by to see how you’re doing?”

If anything, you only began to eye him more wearily after the words came out of his mouth, “You’re acting weirder than normal.” You commented.

The quiet boy beside you apparently decided that was the moment to break his silence as he cleared his throat, “We’re working on our project for magical theory. You’re in that class with us, aren’t you? Who's your partner? I clearly lucked out with mine.” He chuckled, placing a hand against your forearm as he spoke, seeming to not even notice that he had done so.

The grip on your arm wasn’t bruising, but it was firm. Almost as if it were meant to send a sign.

Both you and Fieyro noticed, however. Two pairs of eyes snapped to the unwelcomed hand on your arm. Whilst your gaze remained there, Fieyro’s blue orbs drifted up to your face, immediately taking notice of the first signs of uncomfort that crossed your features- albeit briefly and almost unnoticeably.

“May I speak with you, darling?” His mouth was opening and the words were tumbling out in an instant without a single thought going into it as the prince stuck a hand out for you.

Under any other circumstance, you would have stared at him as if he had grown another head or laughed in his face, but the discomfort and surprise from being touched without consent by a boy you didn’t even know the name of seemed to have all logic flying out of your head as you didn’t even hesitate to grab Fiyero’s hand- much gentler than the munchkin boys was against your skin- as he softly helped you to your feet before imminently leading you down the closest row of bookshelves, not stopping until you were both concealed from sight.

The moment the two of you stopped walking, Fieyero turned around to face you, eyes filled with softness and concern, “Are you alright, love?” He asked tenderly.

It was only then that you realized he was still gingerly holding your hand in his, and you quickly slipped out of his grasp, maneuvering your arms to cross over your stomach.

You swallowed thickly then nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine.” You then shook your head a little, laughinging lightly, “I’m being so overdramatic right now, aren’t I? He didn’t even mean to touch me, I bet. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, either. It was just my arm.”

Fieryo’s gaze never once wavered from your own as you rambled, not cutting you off as he allowed you to finish getting your words out before he said, “It’s not being overdramatic if he made you uncomfortable just then. He had no right to touch you without you saying so.”

Another humorless laugh left your lips as you ran a hand through your hair, in disbelief with yourself, before you closed your eyes and sighed, “I should go back and apologize, that was rude of me.”

Before you could even fully turn on your heels, however, a gentle hand caught your wrist, a hold that could very easily be broken by you if you so wished, but it surprised you enough to stop.

As you turned to face Fiyero, his mouth snapped shut, almost as if he had forgotten anything he was going to say.

“What happened to me giving consent to others touching me?” The words were meant as a light hearted joke- something you had never done with the boy in front of you- but it had caused his eyes to imminently widen as he dropped your wrist and took a large stepped back, sputtering out apologies. This time, the soft laugh you let out was for real, “I was kidding.”

Fiyero blinked at you in surprise, “Oh.” Was the only thing he seemed to be able to say.

You cleared your throat, shuffling slightly closer to him, “Hey, thanks for saving me back there. You didn’t have to do that.”

Confusion overtook his features and he quickly shook his head, “Of course I did, please don’t thank me for it.”

Concealed by the shadows of the shelves around you and immersed in the unwavering gaze of Fiyero- away from all of the prying eyes of your peers- you suddenly felt vulnerable. You shuffled your feet back and forth slightly, “It’s not like I deserved it, though. I’ve never been anything but mean to you.”

Of that, you knew for certain. You had been so dead-set on not falling for the same trap as your classmates that you were openly rude to the boy you didn’t want to fall for. There had always been a bit of lingering guilt over that fact within you, but you had always felt as if you were too far gone to go back on it.

A grin suddenly split across his lips as you spoke, admittedly the last reaction you would have thought him to have over those words, “I’ve always kind of admired it, actually.”

It was then your turn for confusion, “Admired?” You questioned.

He shrugged a singular shoulder and you were suddenly aware of how close you two had subconsciously shuffled as he reached up and ever so gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Everywhere I’ve ever gone, people would do anything to win my favor simply because I’m a prince. I’ve quite enjoyed being treated like an outsider by you, as a matter of fact. Made things fun, and like I had to work to earn your favor.” He was speaking softly now.

A shy smile slowly spread across your lips, “Really?”

He nodded, “Really.”

A silence encapsulated to two of you for moments following as you stared at one another, a newfound admiration coming over you as well. Slowly- oh so slowly- the two of you began to lean into the already small space separating you.

Fiyero’s eyes were open, searching yours to see if you were truly okay with what was about to happen, and you answered by pressing your lips gently against his.

The two of you moved in sync and it took a few moments for you to pull away, and when you did, your chests were heaving up and down as you stared at one another with wide eyes, excitement and adrenaline rushing through your veins.

Just as the prince leaned in once more, you leaned back to halt his movements, “I should probably go reschedule to project-”

Fiyero cut you off by kissing you once more, “You don’t even know his name.” He muttered against your lips, “Let me have you all to myself for a just a little bit longer.”

You had grown up alongside Tyler Owens, never as friends but as friends of friends. After you both split off for school to study meteorology, you returned to your hometown for very different reasons. Tyler started in the business of storm chasing, live streaming his adventures to people all across the internet who sensationalized the dangerous weather, and you scored a job as your hometown’s Weather Woman. Your job was to warn people about the threat of tornados while his was to drive head-on into them. 

That was where you two drew your lines in the sand when it came to each other. He thought you were scared of taking risks while you thought his thrill-seeking was stupid and would eventually get him or one of his team members hurt. Those opinions on each other's job led to you two butting heads every time you encountered one another. His mere presence was enough to annoy you, especially at your favorite event of the summer, the fair. 

“Look who it is,” Tyler’s voice sounded near you and your friend nudged your arm in the direction of it. You looked away from her just as he approached you, tipping his hat and flashing his teeth in a smile. “Didn’t know they still let you out of the newsroom these days.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest, as the air of arrogance surrounding him nearly choked you out. “Don’t you have a tornado to chase?” you asked, wanting to end the conversation before it fully started. Unfortunately, he never seemed put off by your jabs, but he was assumed by them. 

“I took the night off,” he replied. “I wanted to see if there was anything worth my while here tonight.” 

You raised your brows. “Oh really?” He nodded, smiling brightly at you. “Find anything yet?” 

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “It’d be easier if she answered my phone calls.” 

Tyler disliked you a whole lot less than you disliked him. After you graduated and he started storm chasing, he tried at every given opportunity to get you to join his team. Even years later he still tried to, no matter how many times you told him the risk he was putting himself and his team in every time they barreled into a storm cell. He was relentless but you were happy where you were at. You wanted to help people when it came to severe weather, not make the storm look enticing for internet audiences. 

“I already told you, I’m not interested.” Storm chasing was a dangerous game that you had no intention of playing. Being from the Midwest, you had lived through your share of tornados. Chasing them was not in apart of your career path.

His smile faded slightly before he seemed to snap back to himself. “All I’m saying is, we could use a mind like yours out in the field.” The compliment was nice, you could admit that to yourself, but it wouldn’t win you over. He knew that too. “But suit yourself.” And with that he walked off, meeting up with the rest of his team that joined him at the fair that night. 

Your friend whistled lowly. “I don’t know how you do it,” she said. 

“Do what?” 

“Say no to a man like that.” You rolled your eyes once more as the line you were in moved. As she stepped forward to order, you threw a quick glance over your shoulder in the direction Tyler had walked off in. You saw him happily chatting with his team before glancing back at you for just a moment before you returned your gaze forward.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of colorful lights, sticky heat, and enough fried food to make your stomach ache in the best possible way. Your friend left after a couple hours of roaming the prize barns and laughing at the kids screaming their heads off on the carnival rides, but you stuck around for a little longer, relishing in the sweet nostalgia the fair brought you. 

Before you had taken a couple of well-deserved days of work, you and your team had predicted a storm front moving. Later that night was supposed to bring rainfall and a thunderstorm or two popping up around the county and neighboring areas. You thought you’d have plenty of time to roam the fair for a little longer until it hit, but you noticed the shift in the weather almost immediately. The sudden uptick in wind pricked the back of your neck as the distant rumble of thunder echoed above the fair chaos. 

It was difficult to predict everything, that you had learned early on in your career. It also was hard to predict how quickly weather could change from bad to deadly. One moment you’re gazing up through the lights into the night sky, trying to gauge the incoming storm, and the next, the sirens are blaring across the fairgrounds. 

The crowd of people running in every direction made the walkways hazardous. You were knocked into and jostled around as you tried to run toward the restrooms that doubled as storm shelters. They were clear at the opposite end of the walkway, but they were your closest option. You dodged and weaved through the swarms of people, trying to stay on your feet. 

You only made it halfway to the shelter when you were stopped by the awful cries of a little girl who sat under the counter of one of the carnival games. She hugged her knees to her chest and called out for her mom, but no one who rushed by stopped. You didn’t think twice before you sidestepped the fleeing crowd and crouched down in front of the little girl. The wind picked up significantly, blowing the cheap prizes right out of the booths and sending everything flying around and knocking into people. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” you raised your voice above the howl of wind and frantic people. 

“My mom!” she cried harder. “I lost her. I don’t know where she is!” 

You glanced back up at the sky. The lightning strikes illuminated the massive, dark mass moving in quickly. “Come with me, and I’ll help you find her, okay?” 

The noise all around grew louder, frightening the little girl, along with yourself, but as you outstretched your hand, she took it, and you quickly pulled her to her feet before you both took off running. The speakers urged everyone to seek shelter immediately, but you watched as people raced in the opposite direction of the shelters, probably bee-lining to cars in an awful call. They’d never out race it. 

“Charlotte!” Someone screamed and the little girl whipped her head around before she tugged hard on your hand. From behind you, the little girl’s mother appeared, immediately scooping up her daughter in her arms. “Oh my, God. Thank you!” she said, looking at you with teary eyes. 

“We have to take cover,” you told her, gently pushing her forward. “The shelter’s just up that way.” She thanked you again before she took off with her daughter in her arms. You wanted to follow, it was stupid not to when the wind gusts became more powerful, rattling everything dangerously and making it hard to think. But there were more people unsure of where to go and what to do. Groups of kids who had been dropped off for the evening stumbling frantically out of the rides and still dizzy. You stepped from the path and tried to direct people as best you could, shouting in tune with the speaker and the sirens for them to hurry into the shelter. 

It wasn’t until larger objects were plucked from the ground and tossed into the air like paper did you abandoned your aiding. The tornado screeched to life, ripping apart pieces of the show barns and rides with ease. You tried to close the distance between yourself and the shelter once more, but it wasn’t people in need that stopped you, it was a sheet of metal pried from the side of one of the food trucks. You tried to dodge the hurling objects, but the sheet came at you hard and fast. 

It sliced your shin, sending a wave of pain up through the rest of your leg. You stumbled, determined to stay upright, but the wind was too strong for your limping figure, and you toppled against the concrete, slamming your knees against the ground before you rolled over into the lousy shelter of a game’s tent somehow still standing. 

Panic started to set in as the storm raged around you, loud and monstrous. You covered your wound with your hands, unsure of where the blaring of the tornado ended and the fast-paced beat of your heart started, drumming in your ears and beating against your skull. You knew you couldn’t stay there, but leaving was just as dangerous as every attraction of the fair swirled around in the air. The cut from your leg painted your hands red and throbbed; it would only slow you down if you tried to run, creating even more of a risk. 

You didn’t know what to do. All of your life, the storms you had faced you’d always been lucky enough to find shelter in plenty of time, from the cellar in your backyard to your high school’s basement created just for such an occasion. 

Through the freight train sounding winds and your thundering heart, you heard a couple of voices that had to be close. Tearing your eyes away from the cut on your leg, you watched as another group of people sprinted down the walkway as someone yelled behind them to run. 

In all of your life, you’d never been so relieved to see Tyler Owens’s face standing just a few feet away; he hadn’t spotted you, and for a terrifying moment you thought he’d be unable to hear you yell out above the screaming storm. But somehow, he did. His head snapped in your direction, rain-coated and windblown, looking both out of sorts and in his element. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled as he ran over to you, dodging flying debris that grew larger by the minute. The second he crouched down in front of you, his eyes flickered onto your legs, and the blood seeping out between your fingers as you tried to keep pressure on the wound. 

“I thought I’d just hang out here,” you said, your sarcasm watered down by the fear clear in your teary eyes.

His brows furrowed, deep in thought for a moment as he looked between you and the distance there was still to cross to the only close shelter. Without saying a word, he peeled off his wet flannel, leaving himself in a shirt that was already nearly soaked through as the sideways rain beat down against the both of you. “I’m gonna tie this around your leg and then we’re gonna run, okay?” 

You shook your head frantically. The ache in your legs was intense and you had already lost a good amount of blood, not enough to make you woozy but you were well on your way. It felt like your heart had crawled up your throat, making it hard to breathe as panic soaked you to the bone along with the rain. Everything around you seemed to be ripped from the ground, even the anchored tent you were under was seconds away from being picked up. 

“Hey,” he said, grabbing a hold of your shoulders, shaking you slightly. “It’ll be alright. You gotta trust me, though.” The sincerity shined in his eyes, bright as the rest of the power around you flickered wickedly. With a nod of your head, you dropped your hands from your leg and let him tie the flannel around your cut. As he pulled it tight, you cried out in pain. “I’m sorry,” he kept repeating until it was knotted. Quickly, he jumped to his feet and helped you up, looping an arm around your waist as you slung an arm around his shoulders. 

“Ready?” You didn’t get a chance to respond as the tent you were under was plucked from the ground, anchors and all, and flung backward into the tornado as it tore through the front entrance of the fairgrounds. Tyler took off, giving you no choice but to follow. 

You two stayed low, trying desperately to avoid the flying objects. With each step your leg burned, but Tyler’s hold on you was strong, not giving any room for you to lag behind or slip away. It felt like hours of running, but it was no more than a minute or two before you reached the shelter. The only major injury between the two of you was your leg, otherwise, you both collected a series of little cuts and bruises from your journey. 

Stumbling into the restroom, you were met with a hoard of scared fairgoers. You two managed to find a spot to slot yourself in with everyone else. He helped you lower yourself to the floor back in the corner just as the tornado was fully on top of you. You brought your knees up to your chest and covered your head. Tyler sat flushed against your side; you felt his hands rest over the top of yours as the building rattled violently. Squeezing your eyes shut, you refused to see the damage until the howl of wind subsided and people started to stir. 

Once it was over, everyone stumbled out of the shelter, getting jumbled together as police and ambulances rushed to the scene. Amongst people pushing and shoving to find their loved ones and get the hell home, you and Tyler were separated and before you could look for him, an EMT caught sight of your bloodied leg and ushered you to one of the ambulances. 

You sat on the back after the EMT stitched up your leg, looking over the torn-apart fairgrounds. Debris was littered everywhere, food trucks and carts overturned and some demolished, and rides were dislocated and strewn about in pieces. 

You clutched the bloodied flannel to your chest, shivering in the loss of adrenaline and temperature drop, and watched the sea of people until a familiar face popped into view, looking a little frantic as he stumbled through the crowd looking like he was in search of something. His eyes finally settled on you before he quickly pushed his way through the crowd until he reached you. 

“Hi,” you greeted, smiling tiredly. 

“I was looking for you everywhere,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath. “I looked away for a second and you were gone and-” You continued to smile, and he stopped himself. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Nothing,” you replied quietly before clearing your throat. “I, um, I just wanted to thank you. And I’m sorry for ruining your flannel.” You gestured to the ruined piece of clothing resting in your lap. 

Tyler was quiet for a moment, looking at the large bandage around your shin. “Don’t mention it,” he said, brushing off your thanks like he hadn’t just pretty much saved your life. “What were you doing out there anyway?” 

You sighed, feeling a creep of embarrassment up your spine. You should’ve known better but at the moment you just wanted to help people and had little regard for your own safety, until your leg was sliced open, that was. “There were people still out there, trying to figure out where to go. I was trying to help.” 

“That was stupid,” he said. “But brave. Stupidly brave, maybe.” 

“Funny. I think I’ve said the same thing about you a time for two.” 

His signature smirk slowly fell onto his lips. “Not to my face.”

“Oh, no. Never.” 

Tyler laughed, gently patting your knee, lingering for a moment before he dropped his hand back at his side. Someone called out your name, and you spotted your friend running back through the crowd. She had called you as soon as you had made it to the ambulance and told you she’d come back to take you home. 

“You should get some rest,” he said. “I’ll see you around.” As he turned around to walk away, you called out to him. 

“Tyler, wait.” He paused. “You should try calling me again. Maybe I’ll answer this time.” Breaking out in a grin, he tipped his hat in another goodbye, leaving you with a new feeling stirring inside your chest. 

Bonus! 

Hours later, after you had cleaned yourself up, you were tucked into bed, reading by the lamp light knowing sleep was probably far off after the events of the night. You didn’t expect your phone to ring that late into the night, and when you glanced at it, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the caller ID, but that time it was something besides annoyance that you felt. 

You answered, discarding your book on your nightstand. “You don’t waste any time do you,” you teased.