You're My Home (completed)

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Rachel was awkwardly aware that the man she escorted to her trailer was stark naked. To avoid looking anywhere she knew she shouldn't, she kept her gaze on the path before them. His skin was like ice—as was hers—by the time they made it inside the quaint combination living room/kitchen. Every inch of the man was wet from the rain and gleamed enticingly in the light.

Rachel set the stranger on her couch, trying to touch him as little as necessary. She quickly distanced herself from him and said in a disgruntled tone, "Did you like...get in trouble with the cops or something?"

Before he could answer, she chucked a blanket at his face. He positioned the blanket over the lower half of his body.

"No," was his answer.

Rachel hadn't looked him in the eye since they'd been in the trailer, but now that he was remotely covered, she risked it. The light did beautiful things to his damp hair, playing over the honey-colored strands like dew on grass. His facial features were a vision of perfection. His nose was narrow and straight, complimenting his square jaw. His top lip had a deep arch in the middle and was almost equally as full as the bottom lip, which was rounded to pure kissable flawlessness. Rachel felt the heavy weight of his stare and the large blue depths of his eyes.

While gaping at his ready-for-the-beach tan, Rachel's own flaws came to her attention. Her pajamas were soaked, and her hair was sticking to her cheeks and neck. For pajamas she was wearing men's boxers and a loose t-shirt, which wasn't so loose anymore. Here she was standing a few feet away from a naked runway model, for all she knew, and she looked like someone from a bad horror movie.

She closed her mouth, which had unfortunately been hanging open while she'd surveyed the marvel on her couch. Her blood flamed, and suddenly the air was far too warm.

Rachel cleared her throat as she pulled at her clinging shirt. It puffed out from her curves, but sank slowly back into place. Idly tapping the end of her fingernails on the counter, she avoided eye contact.

"Why are you naked?" Her voice came out a little higher than usual.

A moment later, the man said in a casual tone, "I don't mind being naked."

She blushed again, but couldn't help the airy laugh that escaped her. "Well then, tell me this," she began after a second or two. "Why were you outside in my yard? If you wanted to be naked, you could have at least done it at your place."

The man seemed to reel her wary gaze to his, holding it there. "My home is here..." he said, as surely as if he'd lived here all his life.

"Here?" Rachel pointed at the floor—her floor.

He eyed the cramped space innocently.

"My house, or this town?" she added, her brow raised to its highest peak.

He gave her a look that sped up her heart. He clarified by saying, "With you, I mean."

She knew what he meant but asked anyway, acting as though she'd misunderstood. "With me what?"

"I'm supposed to be near you. This is where I belong."

Rachel wasn't sure what expression her face held. She couldn't feel it. For a brief flicker of time, she didn't feel much of anything. His words rang in the air long after they'd been spoken. For some unknown reason, they made sense.

"Who...are...you?" She made each word distinct.

The man opened his mouth, then shut it. A look of uncertainty made his expression darker. "My name is Collin," he said. "Beyond that...it frightens me to say, I cannot remember."

Rachel could swear she'd met him before. That name sent a fresh wave of heat through her trembling frame, seeming to expand her heart in ways she couldn't comprehend.

"What's your name?" Collin asked, his voice a mere whisper.

She willed herself to speak, though her thoughts were chaotic. "Rachel."

"We know each other, don't we," he said. It wasn't a question.

Rachel nodded. "But how? I would remember meeting you. Until tonight though, I didn't know you existed. How is that possible? How is it that I know you, but I've never met you?"

She sounded crazy to her own ears. They exchanged searching stares.

"I don't know. All I know is you're someone I recognize."

"So, you really don't know how you ended up in my yard?"

He shook his head.

Rachel needed to get out of her wet clothes. Questions would have to wait a moment. "I need you to stay there..." she said. "And if you take anything I'll find you."

She walked to the bedroom at the other end of the trailer and shut the door. She glanced down at the lock and ignored the sense of trust she felt towards Collin. The lock clicked into place. Her hands were shaky as she stripped down to nothing. She couldn't stop trembling while she wrapped herself in a large towel. Her hair dripped down her back and caused more shivers.

Now was the time to think back on the eerie impossibility that Collin had wings. She hadn't imagined it. That much had to be true. They looked so real! How could she have dreamt up giant angel wings?

"It was dark," she muttered under her breath. "There's no way he had wings! That doesn't happen. You were scared by the thunder and weren't thinking straight. Clearly he doesn't have wings anymore, and it's not like those things could just disappear into thin air."

But she recalled the way her pulse had sped up when first seeing Collin. She remembered the staggering fear that twisted her gut into knots. Whatever she'd seen or not seen—she itched to discover the truth. And Rachel would find out. She wasn't one to give up easily on mysteries.

"Okay, well you've officially gone crazy," she said to herself. Rachel scoffed at her reflection in the mirror over the dresser. The mascara she'd put on that morning rimmed her eyes. Her short red hair was similar to a bathed cat's fur.

Thunder boomed, and the trailer quaked in response. Rachel dried herself, put on a clean hoodie and some pants, and combed her hair. Fear had made its way to her belly at the thought that maybe Collin wouldn't be there when she came out. He had a phantom-like quality about him, and she needed him to stay put. Stay put, at least until he answered her questions, and she was able to end this winged man nonsense.

After she swallowed her nervousness and double checked her appearance, she finally opened the bedroom door. Her gaze automatically targeted the couch. Collin's head rested against a piece of duct tape that held the innards of the couch together. His mouth was open, and his eyes were shut—a clear case of exhaustion. She could hear his heavy breathing from across the room.

"Oh, no you don't!"

Rachel charged, her hands clenched into fists.