Petrichor

She was a walking electrical storm that both aroused and repelled. A short.

Her hair was dark and wild chaos. Her body, all sharp curves. When she entered a room the air crackled and people stared. She was a walking electrical storm that both aroused and repelled.

And she hated parties. Parties involved people. She stood in the corner alone, drinking a beer and glowering at the crowd. Friends in Low Places was playing on the stereo and a handful of idiots were singing along. Friends in low places, indeed.

He appeared out of nowhere and strode straight up to her, catching her off guard. Men rarely approached her. She frightened most. He was tall and pale with silver hair and crystalline blue eyes. An albino. Or maybe just very Irish. He was dressed in black with chipped black nail polish on his fingers. Just like her. 

“Christ, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. He had multiple piercings in one ear and a tattoo of spider on his neck.

“Yeah?” She arched a brow. “I’m not.”

“I’m Ash.” He bowed. 

She snorted. “That's appropriate.”

"Let's go outside."

“It’s raining.”

“So?”

She stared a moment into transparent eyes. She liked what she saw. “Okay.”

They stepped onto the balcony and closed the sliding glass door, muting the sounds of the party and Garth Brooks. The downpour had turned to a drizzle and the air was filled with that delicious scent of wet cement. They inhaled deeply, simultaneously.

“Petrichor,” he said.

“I know,” she replied.

He smiled again and she saw the little boy behind the man. “Of course you know. May I?” He motioned towards her red plastic cup.

She held it out to him. When he took it a spark of electricity passed between their fingers. “Ow,” she muttered.

"Sorry.” He took a gulp. Suddenly the hairs on his head began to rise, as if pulled by static electricity.

“That’s weird,” she said as he held out the cup. “Your hair…“ She took it, once again brushing his fingers with her own. A white ball of light exploded between their hands. Beer splashed around them and red plastic melted to the wet ground.

When she opened her eyes she was in a stark white hospital room. Her hand throbbed with pain. She heard a quiet groan at her side. She turned her head to see Ash. He was lying in a bed that had been pressed up against her own. She yanked down the blanket that covered them to reveal their bandaged hands, fingers entwined and fused together.

His eyes flew open. He scanned the room. Their hands. Her face. He smiled. “Christ, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?” She smiled back. “Me too.”

Author's Note

This was written for my weekly Sexy Flash Fiction Challenge. If you have an offsite blog (or even if you don't,) please consider participating in the challenge!! :)

http://www.athenamarie.net/p/the-sexy-flash-fiction-challenge.html

Reviews

[SleeplessVolcano]

So much told in so few words! Electrifying. I like how you create tension and keep that going, like a good movie soundtrack - and of course, petrichor adds vivid imagery to captivating read......does the story continue? I would say it has legs.......

[Athena Marie]

Thank you very much! I appreciate your review. Every week I write a vignette or flash fiction piece - this was one of them. Some of my creations I feel called to continue... I'm not sure about this one. I think it's done. Thanks again.