Look to the Skies

I rolled over, glanced at the clock and groaned. It was only a little past six in the morning, but the rain had woken me up over an hour ago and I couldn't fall back asleep. I finally gave up and crawled out from under the blankets. It was ridiculously cold in my room and I stuffed my feet into the waiting slippers next to my bed, and pulled the comforter with me.

My cat Albus came down from the couch in the living room and followed me into the kitchen. I picked him and wrapped him up in the blanket, his warmth burrowing into my chest. Instantly, he started to purr.

"Aw, who is a handsome little boy? You are," I cooed at him.

I shuffled over to the Keurig machine, pressed the power button, and just waited for it to heat up. When it was ready, I picked out a random coffee K-cup and shoved it in. Albus squirmed in my arms and I let him jump down. He went over to his food bowl, sat down, and looked up at me expectantly. I grabbed the bag of cat food from a cabinet and shook some into his bowl and I chuckled when he went after it.

The coffee finished brewing and I took the mug with me into the bathroom to start getting ready for the day. I took a shower, keeping the water screaming hot to ward off the chill in my bones. By the time I walked back into my room, the droplets of water covering my skin cooled and I got dressed in record time, pulling a large, thick sweater over my whole outfit.

It was then that I noticed the rain had stopped pattering against the windows and silence reigned. Albus jumped up onto the window sill and slithered behind the curtains. I pulled them apart to look outside and gauge the weather. The sun was barely peeking out from behind the dark clouds, but there was no rain.

The little rays of sunshine gave me hope for the rest of the day, and I pulled on my favorite pair of sandals, instead of the boots I had been contemplating earlier. Albus followed me to the door, meowing pitifully.

"I know you don't want me to leave, buddy. I'll be back later, I promise," I bent down and gave him one last scratch between his ears and left the apartment, locking the door behind me.

I took the stairs two stairs at a time, nearly sliding down the last ones that were slick with water. Someone else was leaving, and I caught the front door before it shut. It was just starting to lighten up outside, and all the storefronts lining the street were still dark. I walked down two stores to the record shop and pulled a set of keys out of my purse.

There was a figure leaning against the window, mostly in shadow except for the tip of a ciagrette, illuminating briefly.

"Good morning, Anthony," I smiled.

He straightened, threw the cigarette into a puddle, and rubbed the stubble along his jaw. His long dark hair was pulled into a low ponytail, tattooes peeking out from under his shirt collar.

"Hey, Mare," he grinned and came over and gave me a light hug.

I let us both into the shop, flipping lights as I walked to the back. Anthony sauntered over to the front counter, shrugging his jacket off in the process.

"We get any shipments in?"

"Huh?" I stuck my head out from the storeroom. "Oh, no. Should be a slow one today, especially with the crappy weather."

It was then that the pattering rain began with renewed force, beating against the windows and the roof of the building. I groaned outloud, just as I heard Anthony mutter 'shit'. I dragged a box from the back, my scratchy writing all over the front of it.

I took down an old display and started putting up a new one for Lady Gaga's Fame Monster, the time passing slowly. At some point Anthony went and took a guitar off the shelf, and started strumming random songs. I would sing along softly occassionally, until two young girls came into the store.

"Good morning," I called to them. "Feel free to look around and ask any question you have."

They just giggled and went towards the country section. Every few seconds I would hear them squeal, and I gritted my teeth. Anthony rolled his eyes, and made choking motions at them; I had to stifle a laugh and it came out as a loud snort.

The girls moved around the store, giggling incessantly and I finally just tuned them out, then went to the back to dig for more boxes. the heavy sweater I had on became too much and I yanked it off, hanging it on a hook stuck in the wall. But that wasn't enough, and I shrugged my green plaid shirt off and tied it loosely around my hips.

The bells hanging on the front door jingled, signaling a new customer. I was determined to just keep rearranging shelves, until a loud crash made me run out to the display I just finished building, a figure bent down, picking up all the CD cases.

"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered. "What happened?"

He looked up, his features obscured by a pair of Aviators, the hood on his sweatshirt pulled up. I stared at the mess, all of my hard work ruined. I sighed and bent down to start picking them up.

"I'm really sorry," he said, his voice a rough croak.

"No, it's fine," I sighed again. He sounded genuinely sorry, and although I wanted to scream at him for being a clumsy idiot, I bit it back.

Inbetween picking up the cases, I examied his rough appearance, from the stubble along his jaw to the worn boots on his feet. He looked up from the stack he had been putting together and I averted my gaze, but swung it back towards him when he pulled the hood down and the sunglasses off.

My breathing stopped, the air freezing in my lungs, my heart skidding to a halt in my chest. It was him, the same guy from last night. His eyes stared into me, that feeling of being burned spreading along my skin just like before. His hair was messy and sticking up in different directions, his eyes a rich, hazel color, with flecks of brown, green, and blue.

"Y-You-" I stuttered.

"Yes?" he asked, a small smile gracing his lips. It was then that I heard the proper British accent he had. It was as smooth as velvet, and seeped into my ears like honey.

"I saw you at the club last night, right?"

He got up from the floor, stacks of CD cases in his hands, his slightly bronzed skin pulling across his knuckles. I had a brief thought of wonder at what his hands would look like against my pale white skin, then quickly dismissed it. I watched him place the CDs on the display and turn back to me.

"Yup," he shoved his hands into his pockets, and rocked back on his heels a little. "I'm Nathan.

Nathan. His name whispered through my mind and I decided it suited him. He glanced down at me, almost raised his eyebrow a little; I realized I was still on the ground and scrambled to my feet.

"Marin." I chewed on my bottom lip, his obvous awkwardness almost seeping out and making me uncomfortable. I motioned lamely around the store, not knowing what else to say. "Was there anything I could help you find?"

"Oh, no. I was just kind of, um, looking for a place to get out of the rain."

I almost was hoping that he had seen me in the store, and decided to come in. I glanced back at the windows in front, and saw the rain was lightening once more. A little fissure of disappointment spread through my chest, and I knew that my face fell.

"Well, it's stopped for now. Better get going before it starts to downpour again." I hoped that my disappointment didn't show up in the tone of my voice, but I couldn't be sure.

He pulled his hood up, and sort of side-stepped around me.

"Yeah, I'll see you around." A smile so devastating graced his lips for just a second, and it nearly buckled my knees beneath me.

He left, leaving nothing but his smell, a mixture of rain, salt, and male. A scent so heady and dangerous that I wanted to drag him back into the store and bury my nose in his jacket. I wanted to know if he was as warm as he looked, if his touch would burn like his gaze did.

I watched Nathan walk down the street, but lost him when the crowd swallowed up his frame. The sounds of the store started drifting back to me; Anthony strumming his guitar and the two girls still talking. Their voices were no longer giddy, but now sounded disgusted. I started to walk back to the storeroom when I actually made out their words.

"Ugh, can you believe they carry this stupid album here?"

"I know. The Wanted sucks so bad. And they're all so ugly."

"Right? One Direction all the way."

Tate's word from last night came back to me, and I froze. "You know, they look kinda familiar."

I ran over to them and ripped the album out of the blonde girl's hands. 'The Wanted' was branded across it, their faces staring up at me.

"Hey, what gives?!" she snapped.

Everything clicked, and the album clattered out of my hands. It fell to the ground and I heard it crack. The girls scoffed and stormed out of the store, but I didn't notice.

For the second time in ten minutes, my heart had stopped beating.