Summary: A summer storm brings an unexpected surprise to MC (Charlotte).
Notes: This fic was partially inspired by a NY Times article about eye contact and falling in love as well as a Japanese study about what happens to the brain during eye contact, which I linked here in case anyone wants to check them out.
The air was electric as dark clouds rolled across the sky in the late afternoon. The storm hadn’t broken yet, but Charlotte could see that they were in for a doozy. She sat outside on the porch swing and pulled her sweater around her a little tighter. Charlotte loved the rain, loved the feel of the air just before a storm hit.
“Thinking of you.”
That was what the postcard had said, the one that had arrived in the mail today with the Eiffel Tower on the front. Charlotte frowned at the thought of it. She’d spent longer than she’d like to admit sitting at the dining room table, the postcard sitting across from her. Charlotte had a lot she wanted to say to James, but he wasn’t here with her. He was in Paris, on his goddamn honeymoon, and apparently thinking of her enough to sneak out and send her a postcard. How had he explained that to Vanessa? Charlotte figured he’d left their hotel to buy flowers or something to cover up the small lie. What was he thinking? What was she thinking? Charlotte hated that she missed him, hated that she couldn’t seem to turn off her feelings for him. She knew she had to get out of his house, but if she was honest, she wasn’t ready to leave Hull. However, she wasn’t sure she could afford to stay without the generosity of James’s cabin. She was sure Chris would let her crash with him if needed, but that didn’t feel right either. Charlotte had spent too long relying on men to solve her problems and now she needed to find a way to stand on her own. Of course, she had no idea what that way was, so for the time being she was stagnant as long as she didn’t want to leave Maine. And she really didn’t; after only a few weeks, this town was starting to feel like it had been waiting for her, like she’d been waiting for it. Maybe after this next book was done she could find a way to stay. Or maybe she was romanticizing Hull the way she’d always romanticized James. Charlotte had sighed, frustrated. Why couldn’t she just see James for the person he was? Yes, he was kind, and yes, he was generous, but he was also deceitful and seemingly all too willing to lead more than one life. James leaving Vanessa would never guarantee Charlotte fidelity; she knew that. And yet, part of her still wanted him. She hated that she kept letting him draw her back in, but if she was honest, she knew he didn’t exactly have to try very hard.
Finally, she’d snatched the postcard off the table and ripped it to shreds before she could change her mind. When she had a small pile of paper snow in front of her, she’d swept it into her hands and tossed it in the garbage. She’d felt a little better, like she was reclaiming some small corner of herself.
It wouldn’t be long now before the storm hit, Charlotte could smell it. The wind tousled her hair and she brushed it back from her face, admiring the way the storm clouds changed the forest around the house. The trees were darker and everything looked alive as the changing air swirled through the branches.
A movement in the corner of Charlotte’s eye caused her to turn her head and she was surprised to see a forest service truck heading up the drive towards the house. She watched as Zig, wearing that leather jacket over jeans and a t-shirt, climbed out of the truck, carrying a brown paper grocery bag in his arms.
“Hey,” he said as he walked up the stairs towards her. Despite the wind, Charlotte could hear his voice clearly.
“Hey yourself,” she said with a smile. “What brings you over here?”
“Well, I told you I’d pay you back for the groceries when I was here before. I would’ve brought these over sooner, but I’ve been working almost nonstop since then.”
“You’re bringing me groceries,” Charlotte repeated, one eye raised in disbelief.
“I mean, I owed you them,” Zig said. Charlotte noticed that he looked a little nervous. “And anyway, you’ll need supplies. There’s a storm coming.”
“Yes, I see that,” Charlotte agreed, amused. Zig grinned.
“I’m just doing my rounds,” Zig said, trying to sound authoritative.
“Of course,” Charlotte agreed. “But … you’re not wearing your uniform.”
Zig blushed and Charlotte couldn’t stop herself from grinning at the butterflies that were going mad in her stomach. It didn’t seem real, Zig standing here on the porch holding a bag of groceries. God, if this is a dream, please let me stay asleep.
“Do you want to sit down?” Charlotte asked, gesturing to the open space beside her on the porch swing.
“Sure,” Zig said, looking a little relieved to have something to do. He set the bag of groceries down on the porch and sat beside her. The swing rocked a little from his momentum and they sat together for a few minutes, both of them enjoying the thick smell of promised rain.
“So … do you usually make house calls?” Charlotte asked, chancing a glance in his direction.
“Oh, all the time,” Zig said. He looked over at her and smiled. Christ, he was so beautiful.
“Uh-huh,” Charlotte said. “Let’s be honest, I know why you’re really here.”
“Oh?” Zig asked. “And why’s that?” His brown sugar eyes held hers and for a moment, Charlotte forgot what she’d been saying. The amount of eye contact and attention was almost a little unnerving, but at the same time, she liked it. James had always been so distracted, always on his phone, always asking her to repeat what she’d said because he hadn’t been listening.
“It’s my purple pajama pants,” Charlotte said. “I know you haven’t been able to get them out of your head, but I’m sorry, I can’t give them up! They’re my favorite pair!”
Zig laughed, the residual awkwardness in their conversation dissipating into the wind. “It’s true, you caught me.”
“I knew it,” Charlotte said. “It’s so obvious.” She hesitated for a second. “Do you want to come in? I can’t give you the purple pants but I can make coffee or something.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Zig said. They stood, Zig picking up the bag of groceries, and they headed into the house. After sitting outside in the wind, the house felt so still and warm by comparison. Charlotte flipped on the kitchen lights and headed straight for the coffee maker.
“Oh no, we can’t have that,” Zig said. Charlotte stopped and turned around, confused. “No, I’m sorry, I mean, if you want to you should have drip coffee. But–if you want–I could whip us up something on that,” he said, pointing to the elaborate espresso machine on the counter.
“You know how to use that?” Charlotte asked, impressed. She’d tried to figure it out on one of her first days at the house and had only succeeded in shooting steam at her hand and burning her fingers.
“I am a man of many talents,” Zig said.
“Well, then, be my guest,” Charlotte said, gesturing to the intimidating machine. As Zig began to work on the espresso, she unpacked the groceries he’d brought. Despite barely knowing him, there was something so comforting about doing something so … ordinary. Charlotte had never shared an apartment with anyone but Kaitlyn, so the idea of living with a man was strange and new.
Jesus Christ, Charlotte, she scolded yourself. The guy brings you one bag of groceries and you’re already making plans for him to move in with you, you freaking bunny boiler.
“So,” Charlotte said, shaking away her thoughts as she sat down on a bar stool at the massive kitchen island. “How’d you get so good at very complicated espresso machines?”
Zig smiled as he poured the milk into the tin. “I used to work in a coffee shop, back before I joined the forest service.”
“Did you ever want to own your own shop?”
Zig shrugged. “I thought about it, but I like being outside. Besides, that wasn’t what I originally wanted to do.”
“What’d you want to be? A cowboy who is also an astronaut?” Charlotte asked. Zig laughed.
“Nope,” he said. “I wanted to be a dancer.”
“Really?” Charlotte asked, intrigued. “What kind of dancer?”
“Ballet.” Zig poured the milk into the espresso cups, swaying the tin just enough to create a leaf design in the foam.
“Seriously? That’s so cool!” Charlotte exclaimed as Zig handed her a cup. “Why didn’t you do that?”
“I blew out my knee in college,” Zig said.
“That must have been rough.”
“It was at first,” Zig said as he sat down beside her. “But I realized that while I loved dancing, I’d devoted my whole life to it. I had nothing outside of dance, so in blowing out my knee, I was able to take some time to figure out what else I liked. Which, really, I think I should’ve been doing all along since dancing is a temporary career.”
“I’m sorry about your knee, but I like your perspective on everything,” Charlotte said. “Seeing something like that as an opportunity to grow … I don’t know, I feel like not many people can have that kind of clarity.”
“Trust me, it wasn’t easy,” Zig said. “I didn’t come to that viewpoint easily, but luckily my physical therapist recommended I talk to a shrink to help me through the transition.”
Charlotte sipped her coffee, considering his words. Hearing Zig talk about losing his dreams of dancing professionally made her introspective about her own life. In general, things had worked out pretty well. She was incredibly lucky to be living her life as a writer, writing what she wanted to write. Hell, she’d even been born straight so she didn’t have to deal with coming out like her twin had. God, the way those assholes in high school had called Kaitlyn names, spray painting “DYKE” in huge red letters on her locker. Charlotte’s hand had hurt really badly after she’d punched the guy who’d painted Kaitlyn’s locker, but feeling his nose break had been pretty satisfying.
“Do you still dance at all?” she asked.
Zig nodded. “A little, but only at home. Mostly I just do the exercises. I can’t seem to break that habit, but I’m not sure if I’d want to anyway. It’s kind of a nice way to keep at least a little bit of ballet in my life.”
“You know what I’m going to ask next.”
“You want to see me dance?”
Charlotte nodded and bit her lip as she smiled. “Please?”
Zig feigned annoyance, sighing loudly and rolling his eyes, but Charlotte could see that part of him was pleased.
“For the record, these are not the ideal shoes for dancing,” Zig said as he shrugged out of his leather jacket. “Neither are jeans.”
“Duly noted,” Charlotte said. She watched as Zig gave himself plenty of space before settling in the center, taking a breath to compose himself. Then he began to move and Charlotte forgot everything else. He was so graceful, the arch of his body transforming into poetry as he moved through the steps. She watched, hypnotized, as he began to spin before coming to a stop with a sweep of his leg.
Then the power went out.
“Not the worst end to a performance I’ve ever had,” Zig said. Charlotte squinted towards him as her eyes began to adjust to the darkness and she could begin to make out his form. “Not the best, but not the worst.”
“If I wrote that into a story, people would throw the book across the room,” Charlotte said. Zig laughed.
“I admit, it’d be a cheap plot device,” Zig agreed. “Where are you? I can barely see anything.” He bumped into her, nearly knocking her off the bar stool. Charlotte grapsed for the counter and he caught her just in time, his hands steadying her hips. In the darkness, her other sense felt heightened and she was all too aware of his touch. He left them there and Charlotte felt the moment shift between them. She put her hands on his biceps, her fingertips brushing the hems of his sleeves. She could feel the warmth coming off his skin as they stayed there, neither one of them willing to make the first move to breach the gap between them.
A loud thunderclap shook the house, causing Charlotte to jump. Her knee hit Zig and she heard a grunt of pain as his hands tightened on her hips, holding her in place.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Charlotte exclaimed as the rain began to pelt the windows, the sky finally open.
“Yup,” Zig said, although his voice was strained. Charlotte had been trying to tell herself that her knee had just hit his leg, but the tension in his voice told her the truth.
God. Fucking. Dammit.
“I’m so sorry,” Charlotte apologized again. She couldn’t see much, but she could tell he was still bent at the waist.
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice still a little tight. “You know,” he continued, “that thunder is an even cheaper plot device than the power outage.”
“I’ll remember that,” she said weakly. “Um, I think we should probably get some light in here.”
“Sounds good,” Zig said, his voice sounding more normal. “Do you know where the flashlights are?”
“Actually, no,” Charlotte said. “I’m just borrowing it and I have no idea where anything is. Of course, now it occurs to me that I should’ve looked for those before now …”
Zig laughed and pulled out his phone. He turned on a flashlight app and the sudden white light was momentarily blinding. Zig surveyed the room with the light until he found an artfully clustered trio of candles in one corner of the kitchen counter.
“Perfect,” Zig said as he dug into his pocket. He pulled out a lighter and lit the wicks before switching off the flashlight on his phone. “Hey, there’s a fireplace in the other room, right?”
“Yeah, but I don’t exactly know how to build a fire …” Charlotte said slowly. Zig just stared at her. “My parents never took us camping! I just stayed inside and read all the time!”
Zig shook his head and laughed. “What would you have done if I hadn’t shown up?”
“Luckily for me, I don’t have to find out since the forest service makes house calls,” she said with a grin. Zig matched her smile as he picked up one of the candles.
“Alright, come on,” he said. “I’ll build a fire.”
“Thank you, sir,” Charlotte said as she stood up. Zig offered her his arm and she took it as they walked to the living room. Once there, she sat on the couch to stay out of the way as Zig busied himself with the fireplace. Before long, the fire was lit and casting a warm glow across the room.
“Alright, now are you going to be okay in this storm?” Zig asked. “You’ve got food, now you have a fire … I think you’re set.”
“Yeah,” Charlotte said, feeling a slight drop of disappointment in her chest. Was he leaving? Of course he is, idiot, you kneed him in the balls. “You know … um, the storm sounds pretty bad out there,” she said. “If you wanted to hang out for a bit until it lightens up …”
“Yeah?” Zig asked, sounding helpful. “You don’t mind? Because I know I just showed up unannounced, so if you have plans …”
“Nope, no plans,” she said quickly. Too quickly. She gestured to the open spot on the couch and he sat down. Charlotte looked at him for a moment, watching the way the firelight danced across his face. “Hey, I didn’t get a chance to tell you before, but I loved your dancing.”
“Thanks,” Zig said, looking a little embarrassed. “I’m out of practice though. You should’ve seen me when I was still practicing for six hours a day.”
“I would’ve loved to see that,” Charlotte said. Without how well he still danced now, she could only imagine what he’d been like before. “Do you have any videos?”
“I do,” Zig said. “I can show you sometime if you really want to see, but please don’t feel obligated.”
“No, no, I want to,” she insisted. “Really.”
Zig nodded, looking a little embarrassed. “So,” he said. “Are you up for some board games?” He pointed and Charlotte followed his gaze to the bookshelf where, on the bottom shelf, sat several games.
“I don’t know,” Charlotte said. “Are you ready to get your ass kicked?”
A couple hours later, the power was still out and the rain continued to pelt the house in angry sheets, waves of wind sending the rain crashing into the walls. Around them lay discarded boxes and game pieces as they sat on the rug in front of the fire, facing one another with a deck of playing cards.
“Do you have any … fives?” Charlotte asked.
“Nope,” Zig said. He stared at her, his gaze unwavering from her own as he tried to choose his question.
“You are really all about eye contact,” Charlotte said.
“Oh, I’m sorry, should I not look at you?” Zig asked, covering his eyes with one hand. “Do you have any tens?”
Charlotte pulled the card from her hand and handed it over, poking the back of his hand that covered his eyes with the corner of the card. Zig put his hand down and accepted the card.
“No, I don’t mind if you look at me,” Charlotte said. “I’m just not used to that much eye contact.” She examined her cards for a moment. “You know, I read a study one time that if you stare directly into someone’s eyes for a couple minutes, your brain activity syncs with the other person.”
“What, like mind reading?” Zig asked. “Because that could come in handy.”
Charlotte chuckled. “No, not like that. If you do it long enough, your blinking synchronizes and the same part of your brain lights up on an MRI.”
Zig thought for a moment. “Okay, let’s do it.”
“Do what?”
“Synchronize our brains,” Zig said.
“I’m weirded out by eye contact so you want me to do more eye contact?” Charlotte asked.
“Yup. I think it’s the only way to face your fears,” Zig said as he put down his cards and scooted a little closer to her. “Come on, let’s try it.”
Charlotte set her cards aside and put her hands on her knees as she faced him. “Are you just doing this because I was beating you?”
“Maybe,” Zig said with a grin.
Charlotte looked into his eyes and held his gaze. She felt so overwhelmingly awkward, like she should be performing or doing something, anything besides just sitting there. Charlotte smiled nervously and Zig smiled back, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Eventually, as the minutes ticked by, she started to relax. The awkwardness faded away into the firelight and Charlotte sank into his gaze. She felt sure that no one had ever looked at her, had ever really seen her quite like this before.
Charlotte felt his hand brush against her knuckles and she turned over her hands, intertwining her fingers with his, neither of them breaking eye contact. She wasn’t sure how long they sat like that; it could’ve been ten seconds, ten minutes, ten hours, but then she leaned across the divide and kissed him, finally closing her eyes. He kissed her back, pulling her onto his lap as he did so. Charlotte wrapped her legs around his waist, her fingers in his hair. She ran her hands down his chest to the hem of his shirt. She pulled it up and over his head and he did the same to her, sliding her sweater off her shoulders and discarding her shirt. Zig gently kissed her neck, her shoulder as he slowly pushed her bra strap down. Charlotte couldn’t wait anymore and she unhooked the bra, tossing it away so she could feel his bare skin against hers.
He braced his hands against her back as she ground her hips against his. With great difficulty, Charlotte let go and climbed off of his lap just long enough for both of them to remove their pants and underwear. Zig sat on the rug and stared at her for a minute as she knelt before him, letting his eyes travel up and down her body.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said quietly, his eyes holding hers as he said so. Charlotte leaned down and kissed him gently, softly as she straddled his lap once more. Zig reached over to his jeans and fished into the pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a condom and ripped open the foil packet with his teeth as he kept one hand on her hip. Once he’d rolled on the condom, Charlotte lowered herself down onto his lap, guiding him in as she sank down onto him, wrapping her legs around him again. She sucked in a breath, reveling in the way he stretched and filled her.
“Are you okay?” Zig asked softly, concern furrowing his brow.
“I’m more than okay,” she whispered against his lips. Charlotte rocked her hips against his and Zig matched her rhythm, his fingers digging into her hips.
He kissed her deeply as she gripped his shoulders, his skin warmed by the fire. She kissed his lips, his cheek, his ear, feeling his sweat dampened hair brush her face as their bodies moved faster in tandem. Charlotte was close, she could feel it, and she dug her nails into Zig’s back, feeling the swell just before the wave broke.
“Look at me,” Zig whispered. Charlotte’s eyes met his as she came, pleasure pulsing and crashing through her body as Zig found his own release. Their moans and breath intermingled, eyes holding each other’s gaze. Charlotte had the fleeting thought that they were no longer two separate people but had someone connected deeply enough to fuse together, one body, one breath, one being.
When their climaxes had faded, Zig kissed her softly, his lips salty with his sweat. Her sweat. Finally, Zig spoke.
“Did that happen in the study you read?”
Charlotte laughed, her head collapsing against his shoulder. “No, no it didn’t. But, to be fair, they might have left some data out.”
The next morning, the storm had cleared and sun streamed through the windows. It took her a minute to realize she was still on the rug in the living room beneath the blanket she and Zig had pulled over them when the fire died. Charlotte sat up, blinking. She heard strange noises coming from the kitchen, so she stood up, wrapping the blanket around her like a toga.
When she walked into the kitchen she smiled at the sight of Zig, standing with his back to her at the espresso machine and wearing her purple pajama pants.
I knew he came back for the pants.
