Stormy Night

1

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***AVA POV***

      THERE WERE WORSE THINGS THAN BEING STRANDED IN THE MIDDLE OF

nowhere during a rainstorm.

For example, I could be running from a rabid bear intent on mauling me

into the next century. Or I could be tied to a chair in a dark basement and

forced to listen to Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” on repeat until I’d rather gnaw off

my arm than hear the song’s eponymous phrase again.

But just because things could be worse didn’t mean they didn’t suck.

Stop. Think positive thoughts.

“An Uber will show up…now. ” I stared at my phone, biting back my

frustration when the app reassured me it was “finding my ride”, the way it

had been for the past half hour.

Normally, I’d be less stressed about the situation because hey, at least I

had a working phone and a bus shelter to keep me mostly dry from the

pounding rain. But Josh’s farewell party was starting in an hour, I had yet to

pick up his surprise cake from the bakery, and it would be dark soon. I may

be a glass half full kinda gal, but I wasn’t an idiot. No one—especially not a

college girl with zero fighting skills to speak of—wants to find herself

alone in the middle of nowhere after dark.

I should’ve taken those self-defense classes with Jules like she wanted.

I mentally scrolled through my limited options. The bus that stopped at

this location didn’t run on the weekends, and most of my friends didn’t own

a car. Bridget had car service, but she was at an embassy event until seven.

Uber wasn’t working, and I hadn’t seen a single car pass by since the rain

started. Not that I would hitchhike, anyway—I’ve watched horror movies,

thank you very much.

I only had one option left—one I really didn’t want to take—but

beggars couldn’t be choosers.

I pulled up the contact in my phone, said a silent prayer, and pressed the

call button.

One ring. Two rings. Three.

Come on, pick up. Or not. I wasn’t sure which would be worse—getting

murdered or dealing with my brother. Of course, there was always the

chance said brother would murder me himself for putting myself in such a

situation, but I’d deal with that later.

“What’s wrong?”

I scrunched my nose at his greeting. “Hello to you too, brother dearest.

What makes you think something is wrong?”

Josh snorted. “Uh, you called me. You never call unless you’re in

trouble.”

True. We preferred texting, and we lived next door to each other—not

my idea, by the way—so we rarely had to message at all.

“I wouldn’t say I’m in trouble,” I hedged. “More like…stranded. I’m

not near public transport, and I can’t find an Uber.”

“Christ, Ava. Where are you?”

I told him.

“What the hell are you doing there? That’s an hour from campus!”

“Don’t be dramatic. I had an engagement shoot, and it’s a thirty-minute

drive. Forty-five if there’s traffic.” Thunder boomed, shaking the branches

of nearby trees. I winced and shrank farther back into the shelter, not that it

did me much good. The rain slanted sideways, splattering me with water

droplets so heavy and hard they stung when they hit my skin.

A rustling noise came from Josh’s end, followed by a soft moan.

I paused, sure I’d heard wrong, but nope, there it was again. Another

moan.

My eyes widened in horror. “Are you having sex right now?” I whispershouted, even though no one else was around.

The sandwich I’d scarfed down before I left for my shoot threatened to

make a reappearance. There was nothing—I repeat nothing—grosser than

listening to a relative while they’re mid-coitus. Just the thought made me

gag.

“Technically, no.” Josh sounded unrepentant.

The word “technically” did a lot of heavy lifting there.

It didn’t take a genius to decipher Josh’s vague reply. He may not be

having intercourse, but something was going on, and I had zero desire to

find out what that “something” was.

“Josh Chen.”

“Hey, you’re the one who called me.” He must’ve covered his phone

with his hand, because his next words came through muffled. I heard a soft,

feminine laugh followed by a squeal, and I wanted to bleach my ears, my

eyes, my mind. “One of the guys took my car to buy more ice,” Josh said,

his voice clear again. “But don’t worry, I got you. Drop a pin on your exact

location and keep your phone close. Do you still have the pepper spray I

bought for your birthday last year?”

“Yes. Thanks for that, by the way.” I’d wanted a new camera bag, but

Josh had bought me an eight-pack of pepper spray instead. I’d never used

any of it, which meant all eight bottles—minus the one tucked in my purse

—were sitting snug in the back of my closet.

My sarcasm went over my brother’s head. For a straight-A pre-med

student, he could be quite dense. “You’re welcome. Stay put, and he’ll be

there soon. We’ll talk about your complete lack of self-preservation later.”

“I’m self-preserved,” I protested. Was that the right word? “It’s not my

fault there are no Ub—wait, what do you mean ‘he’? Josh!”

Too late. He’d already hung up.

Figured the one time I wanted him to elaborate, he’d ditch me for one of

his bed buddies. I was surprised he hadn’t freaked out more, considering

Josh put the “over” in overprotective. Ever since “The Incident,” he’d taken

it upon himself to look after me like he was my brother and bodyguard

rolled into one. I didn’t blame him—our childhood had been a hundred

shades of messed up, or so I’d been told—and I loved him to pieces, but his

constant worrying could be a bit much.

I sat sideways on the bench and hugged my bag to my side, letting the

cracked leather warm my skin while I waited for the mysterious “he” to

show up. It could be anyone. Josh had no shortage of friends. He’d always

been Mr. Popular—basketball player, student body president, and

homecoming king in high school; Sigma fraternity brother and Big Man on

Campus in college.

I was his opposite. Not un popular per se, but I shied away from the

limelight and would rather have a small group of close friends than a large

group of friendly acquaintances. Where Josh was the life of the party, I sat

in the corner and daydreamed about all the places I would love to visit but

would probably never get to. Not if my phobia had anything to do with it.

My damn phobia. I knew it was all mental, but it felt physical. The

nausea, the racing heart, the paralyzing fear that turned my limbs into

useless, frozen things …

On the bright side, at least I wasn’t afraid of rain. Oceans and lakes and

pools, I could avoid, but rain…yeah, that would’ve been bad.

I wasn’t sure how long I huddled in the tiny bus shelter, cursing my lack

of foresight when I turned down the Graysons’ offer to drive me back to

town after our shoot. I hadn’t wanted to inconvenience them and thought I

could call an Uber and be back at Thayer’s campus in half an hour, but the

skies opened up right after the couple left and, well, here I was.

It was getting dark. Muted grays mingled with the cool blues of

twilight, and part of me worried the mysterious “he” wouldn’t show up, but

Josh had never let me down. If one of his friends failed to pick me up like

he’d asked, they wouldn’t have working legs tomorrow. Josh was a med

student, but he had zero compunction about using violence when the

situation called for it—especially when the situation involved me.

The bright beam of headlights slashed through the rain. I squinted, my

heart tripping in both anticipation and wariness as I weighed the odds of

whether the car belonged to my ride or a potential psycho. This part of

Maryland was pretty safe, but you never knew.

When my eyes adjusted to the light, I slumped with relief, only to

stiffen again two seconds later.

Good news? I recognized the sleek, black Aston Martin pulling up

toward me. It belonged to one of Josh’s friends, which meant I wouldn’t

end up a local news item tonight.

Bad news? The person driving said Aston Martin was the last person I

wanted—or expected—to pick me up. He wasn’t an I’ll do my buddy a

favor and rescue his stranded little sister kinda guy. He was a look at me

wrong and I’ll destroy you and everyone you care about kinda guy, and

he’d do it looking so calm and gorgeous you wouldn’t notice your world

burning down around you until you were already a heap of ashes at his Tom

Ford-clad feet.

I swiped the tip of my tongue over my dry lips as the car stopped in

front of me and the passenger window rolled down.

“Get in.”

He didn’t raise his voice—he never raised his voice—but I still heard

him loud and clear over the rain.

Alex Volkov was a force of nature unto himself, and I imagined even

the weather bowed to him.

“I hope you’re not waiting for me to open the door for you,” he said

when I didn’t move. He sounded as happy as I was about the situation.

What a gentleman.

I pressed my lips together and bit back a sarcastic reply as I roused

myself from the bench and ducked into the car. It smelled cool and

expensive, like spicy cologne and fine Italian leather. I didn’t have a towel

or anything to place on the seat beneath me, so all I could do was pray I

didn’t damage the expensive interior.

“Thanks for picking me up. I appreciate it,” I said in an attempt to break

the icy silence.

I failed. Miserably.

Alex didn’t respond or even look at me as he navigated the twists and

curves of the slick roads leading back to campus. He drove the same way he

walked, talked, and breathed—steady and controlled, with an undercurrent

of danger warning those foolish enough to contemplate crossing him that

doing so would be their death sentence.

He was the exact opposite of Josh, and I still marveled at the fact that

they were best friends. Personally, I thought Alex was an asshole. I was

sure he had his reasons, some kind of psychological trauma which shaped

him into the unfeeling robot he was today. Based on the snippets I’d

gleaned from Josh, Alex’s childhood had been even worse than ours, though

I’d never managed to pull the details out of my brother. All I knew was,

Alex’s parents had died when he was young and left him a pile of money

he’d quadrupled the value of when he came into his inheritance at age

eighteen. Not that he’d needed it because he’d invented a new financial

modeling software in high school that made him a multimillionaire before

he could vote.

With an IQ of 160, Alex Volkov was a genius, or close to it. He was the

only person in Thayer’s history to complete its five-year joint

undergrad/MBA program in three years, and at age twenty-six, he was the

COO of one of the most successful real estate development companies in

the country. He was a legend, and he knew it.

Meanwhile, I thought I was doing well if I remembered to eat while

juggling my classes, extracurriculars, and two jobs—front desk duty at the

McCann Gallery, and my side hustle as a photographer for anyone who

would hire me. Graduations, engagements, dogs’ birthday parties, I did

them all.

“Are you going to Josh’s party?” I tried again to make small talk. The

silence was killing me.

Alex and Josh had been best friends since they roomed together at

Thayer eight years ago, and Alex had joined my family for Thanksgiving

and assorted holidays every year since, but I still didn’t know him. Alex and

I didn’t talk unless it had to do with Josh or passing the potatoes at dinner or

something.

“Yes.”

Okay, then. Guess small talk was out.

My mind wandered toward the million things I had to do that weekend.

Edit the photos from the Graysons’ shoot and, work on my application for

the World Youth Photography fellowship, help Josh finish packing after—

Crap! I’d forgotten all about Josh’s cake.

\#TO BE CONTINUED\#

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