Falling for Storm

Duke University wasn’t considered an Ivy League, but I was lucky and grateful to have landed a full scholarship.

After all, they only accepted about six students per year into the art history department.

My admission had been more of a shock than a piece of wonderful news.

I’d applied knowing full well that I wouldn’t make it, and yet here I was.

My sister and I weren’t close; in fact, we had a constant hate relationship.

It was no secret that she hated my guts—according to her I was not normal, and therefore she was allowed to bully me .

I was a 5-foot-5, average-looking brunette, awkward as xxxx, used to burying herself in art and books and not having boyfriends.

The only thing we had in common were our blue eyes.

I was finally doing something right, something for myself.

It would be a long journey, I guessed that much, but I wanted to savor the experience.

I was scared, but somehow I had a gut feeling everything was going to work out.

I got the vibe of a movie scene where the main character is about to embark on an adventure with a dude who’s way out of her league.

Yeah, I know, I have a strange imagination.

I climbed two flights of stairs, walked down the hall, exchanged polite smiles, and read each room number until I found 205.

I took a deep breath and knocked lightly to let whomever—if someone was inside— know I was about to come in.

The room was spacious enough for two people. Two beds, two study tables, two wardrobe closets, and a large window.

Cozy.

The bed to the right had things scattered on it. I guessed my roommate had arrived and could have just gone somewhere.

Judging from what I'm seeing, she likes heavy metal and big bikes.

Interesting.

Bending down, I picked up the black leather jacket lying on the floor and placed it on the bed.

As if on cue, the door opened to reveal an attractive, self-assured-looking girl.

She doesn't completely look like someone who causes a lot of trouble, but I get the idea she's a force to be reckoned with.

A total knockout. I must look dull next to her.

She gave me a confident smile and introduced herself as Dakota Black. A local, she called herself.

I figured she didn't need to stay at the dorm if she was a local, but she explains that she wants to genuinely experience university life.

The works.

We talked while we organized our stuff and then grabbed something to eat together, and soon we were becoming more and more comfortable.

Dakota was nice and easygoing. She liked reading as much as I did. And yes, she listened to heavy metal.

I sincerely believed she and I would get along just fine.

I’d also noticed that “the locals” were very kind and helpful, and almost everybody knew everybody.

Dakota was the coolest person I'd ever met. She introduced me to her friends and the locals we came across from time to time.

Apparently her family was well respected here.

I'd keep my fingers crossed.

I was thinking of spending time in the library or exploring downtown for landscapes to sketch when Dakota asked if I wanted to help out at her brother’s bar.

She said it was absolutely safe. We’d be waiting tables or helping out in the kitchen. She even offered to split tips.

And there was not a lot of schoolwork for now, so why not?

By 7 PM, I was being shown around and instructed by Dakota. It wasn’t a big place, though it looked popular among “the locals.”

By 10 PM, everything was in full swing, bustling with people looking to get drunk and unwind.

Dakota tended bar while I was in charge of delivering drinks—easy enough, except that balancing a tray of bottles and glasses could be tricky.

“Hey, hon,” said a deep voice from behind.

I was momentarily stunned. Then I whipped around, slapping the hand away as hard as I could.

I came face to face with a mountain of a man sporting a long blond beard.

Let me tell you, he was one hairy, scary-looking dude. Like a yeti.

“Don’t touch me,” I hissed.

So I just started to walk away.

The xxxxxxx didn’t take my warning seriously. Let’s face it, what xxxxxxx does?

Instead of sitting down, he grabbed my elbow and spun me into his chest, grinning at me like a mule eating briars.

The audacity of this xxxxx!

“Come on, hon, don’t be like that, I just wanna show you a good time.”

I knew it—the sleazy jerk’s universal pickup line.

Being in this predicament made me think about a few things.

One, I was going to murder my roommate.

Two, I might give this guy a high-five in the face with the tray I was clutching for dear life.

Three, were there any bouncers around? I could really use some help right about now.

Four, I was about to throw up—he reeked of alcohol, sweat, and cigarettes.

I was on the verge of a panic attack when Dakota appeared at my side, yanking his arms.

“Let her go,” she spat. “Now!”

“Or what?” the yeti man retorted.

“Or I’ll break every bone in your body and shove that bottle up where the sun don’t shine.”

I shivered. “Let her go and get out of here,” a low voice growled.

I so badly wanted to see who it was that had come to my rescue, but I couldn’t do anything yet as I was still in the yeti’s arms.

I figured that a staring contest ensued before the “yeti” man slowly released his hold on me.

“Are you okay?”

I hadn’t even realized we were inside an office-like space. “I-I’m…what just happened?”

I mean, I knew what happened, but I was confused about what I was feeling just then. Calmer than I should feel, specifically.

“I’m so sorry, Amara. This hasn’t happened before. I wish I could take it back.”

But it wasn’t her fault that some men were just xxxxxxxx.

“Don’t worry about it, Dakota. I’m okay.”

She enveloped me in her arms, giving me a squeeze. I welcomed the comfort.

She was the sister I had always needed but never had.

A few things happened at this point.

First, the guy in front stopped dead in his tracks the moment he saw me.

Second, the two guys following him weren’t able to stop in time when he did, so he was pushed forward and tumbled toward me.

Third, Dakota doubled over, laughing hysterically.

What the xxxx?

I closed my eyes tight and froze in place, arms up in fists like Mike Tyson, until I heard everyone laughing.

I opened one eye and then the other before straightening up.

Oh, earth, please open and swallow me whole!