Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

PRUE

N othing in my life has ever prepared me for a purple fallen star and the subsequent penis that's attached to it. I keep my eyes closed as I lay on the ground, trying to figure out exactly what happened.

I'm going crazy. No, not going, gone crazy. There's no other logical explanation for this evening's event. Okay, Prue, you need to get up . Someone will pass by and see you. That will create a commotion, and we don't do that. You're not a commotion inducing individual. You're a spend-my-free nights-watching-TV individual. Scolding or psyching myself up, I'm not sure which, I push myself to a seated position, eyes still closed. One big breath, one eye open, and the relief hits me. There's nothing there. I open both eyes, and again nothing. The anxiety curling over my body releases.

"You're crazy." I chuckle, preparing to stand up.

"Are you now?" A voice comes from behind me.

I freeze.

What. The. Fuck. Tilting my head back, I balk. Standing there is a naked guy. And he's glowing a bit.

"What are you doing?" I shoot up, placing my hand in front of me to try and block out his junk.

I shift my focus. This guy has dark brown hair which is slightly curly on top and midnight blue eyes, almost reminiscent of a night sky. Stubble coats his well-defined chin. All of this adds to his overall rugged appearance, and he's standing there grinning at me. Like I'm expecting him and shouldn't be panicking at his sudden landing…

"What are you doing?" he says and doesn't seem to be too fussed about being naked.

"I need a minute." It's the only thing I can think of to say.

I hurry inside, close the door, and lean against it. He's going to go away. I will lock my door, go to bed, wake up tomorrow, and head to a neurologist, because I had to have a tumor that was resulting in a sky-falling-naked-man hallucination.

I turn the lock, and walk away, aiming for my bedroom when I notice a naked man staring at me through the open window.

"Have you had your minute?" he asks.

I stomp to the window, shut it and the curtains for good measure. He will go away. I will not be stepping outside again, and he should be gone by the time the sun rises. Because no way in hell will I be talking to a figure who fell from the sky. I had seen enough sci-fi movies to know how that ends. I go to bed, ignoring the creepy sensation that he's outside waiting for me.

The sun hits my room, and I know I should get up, but I don't want to. Being asleep means I don't have to deal with the possibly still naked man waiting outside for me. That thought startles me, and I sit up.

Groaning, I debate what to do next. Carry on with my normal routine or see if he's still there. My stomach drops, making the choice for me. I'm not going outside to check. In the bathroom, I start my morning ritual: shower, hair, then dress for work.

Simple, easy, clean, and compact—me in a nutshell. So, I go at it, and twenty minutes later, I'm standing in front of my mirror in a black skirt, red T-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. The shirt offsets my green eyes and red-brown hair.

I take a minute, trying to clear my head. Last night was the second weirdest thing to happen to me. The first being my arrival in Haddlebrooke, but there was a rational reason for that. My neck tingles as a reminder of the experiences that brought me to this town. I had to find the logical reasoning here. I'm drained and probably imagined the whole thing. For almost two years, Andria has been on my case to take a break. That's it. I'm tired, run down, and my body's giving me a signal that I need to rest.

My resolution, that all purple-penis-falling star events were a big slap in the face by my brain, is further supported when I suck it up and open my front door. No one's there. Everything's quiet: my lawn looks like it always does, and the sky's a pale spring blue. The only sounds are the rustling of trees and whizzing cars.

"Hello?" I say.

Nothing. Edging around my house to the lounge's window, I call out once more. No response, and definitely no naked guy sleeping in my bushes. Hallelujah! .

It's all in my head, which is terrifying in a different way, but that's something to deal with later. Glancing at my watch, I realize I only have a few minutes to make my bus. I pick up my pace when I spot the bus stop. There's no sight of George yet, and while my calf muscles burn, I don't ease up. I want to put some distance between me and my garden.

I plop onto the bench once I reach it, relieved that I have a minute to clear my head. No naked guy anywhere. No weird burn marks in the ground from the supposed fallen stars. Everything's as it should be. As the bus approaches, I glance up, and clear as day, there's George, smiling at me through the windscreen.

He swings the doors open for me. I jump up the stairs. Only a few other passengers are riding the bus, and I don't want to hold any of us up, but I can't help myself from asking.

"Morning, George." I rub the back of my neck when he smiles at me. "Did you notice any weird events last night?"

"Weird how?" he asks and glances behind him toward the passengers.

"With the stars?"

"No, hun, it was a normal evening as always."

"No shooting stars?" I throw out for good measure and shift to a seat behind him.

"None that I saw," he says and pulls off. He glances behind him once more and catches my eye. "You okay?"

His voice softens and it is laced with concern. This conversation has clearly set off a warning bell for him.

"Yeah, all good. I thought I saw some falling stars last night. It was something to see. I wanted to know if you saw them, that's all," I mumble the last words.

George doesn't respond, maybe satisfied with my explanation. And given his response, it adds to the proof that whatever happened last night isn't what I thought. I had to put it out of my mind.

Ten minutes later I thank George once more and exit the bus. My feet hit the ground, and as I start walking my familiar route, my muscles and the knots in my stomach ease, and I exhale with relief. I let my gaze stray across the street. On my side, a couple stroll hand in hand. Across the road, a kid's running to the bus stop. People are talking and laughing. The air is crisp, and the sky is a clear blue.

I love spring. Everything opens up, people emerge more, and the restaurant gets busier. I'm more alive and less like I'm going through the motions. Which, I guess, is a bit of a fa?ade, because a part of me is always operating on autopilot.

I let myself into the restaurant and head to the back, knowing Andria would be preparing for the lunch rush.

"Hey, Andria," I greet.

Already covered in flour, she beams at me. "Hey, hun." She grabs an apron from the box under the counter and throws it at me.

"What's the lunch special today?" I stand next to her.

"Butternut with goat's cheese ravioli."

I groan aloud. It's my favorite dish. Andria cooks it with this creamy Napoletana sauce and the ravioli melts in my mouth. I've tried to learn how to replicate it, but it never comes out like Andria's. I begin rolling out the dough.

"How was your evening, hun?"

I fumble with the rolling pin. The question catches me off guard.

"It was good, thanks." I hesitate. "Did you notice any shooting stars last night?" I'm trying not to alarm Andria as I had George.

She stops and cocks an eyebrow at me. "I didn't. I would've loved to. But I didn't see anything…" Her words had come out soft and tinged with disappointment, but her reaction is the final confirmation I need.

If the stars had fallen, someone would've seen it. There'd be chatter about it.

"I only saw one," I lie, trying to make her feel better.

The rhythm of rolling the dough and stretching it out takes over. I hum with Andria making the ravioli next to me.

Everything's normal this morning, and I forget the naked penis-glowing man. All I have to do now is get through the upcoming lunch rush.

Grayson

Finding clothes was a lot simpler than I'd anticipated. Two houses up from where I'd intended to land, the window is wide open, and the guy who lives there is asleep. With a quick trip inside, I find a backpack, manage to pull on some sweatpants, a black T-shirt, and a decent pair of sneakers.

I slip out, with no one the wiser. The harder part is trying to find somewhere to settle for the evening. I debate my options, figuring it isn't smart to return to Prudence yet. She needs some time. Which leaves me wondering the town. It's tiny, but yet, the energy that drew me here pulses through every street.

Eventually, I find a park, and using the backpack as a pillow, I lay under a tree. It isn't the first, nor the last time I'm sure, that I'll sleep outside under a random tree.

When morning hits, I know I have to do three things: get a cup of coffee, find Prudence, then get the hell out of here. I'd swiped fifty dollars from the same house where I got the clothes. I would've taken less, but that's all the guy had in his wallet. It's enough for the next day or two, and I couldn't be here longer than that, anyway.

Walking down the street, I check out the town. It's quaint, and the streets are pristine, which is completely different from my home.

Her energy tugs at me, clawing at my will power and wanting me to do nothing but navigate toward her. If I tap into it, let my power mix with hers, it will guide me to her. It will overtake my instincts, and I wouldn't even need to think about which way to turn. But I don't. I ignore it. I need a clear head before I jump back in and try to talk to Prudence.

I continue along the road, keeping myself as inconspicuous as possible. Yet, I can sense a few curious eyes on me. So, I focus on my movements, slow pace, gaze in front of me, and hands in pockets. Casual, like I know what I'm doing and where I'm going.

Five minutes later, I stumble on a quaint little coffee shop tucked away on a side street. I duck inside the cozy café, the bell on the door jingling when I enter. I spot an empty table in the back corner. Weaving between the mismatched chairs and cozy armchairs, I grab the small table next to the window. I sink into the cushioned chair. The morning sunlight streams in through the glass and assaults my eyes, I flinch. I really need coffee.

"Hey." A voice hits me. I look up at a wide-eyed, blonde girl. She's grinning at me. "You're new here." It isn't a question. "Are you—"

"I'll take a black cup of coffee. Thanks."

Her mouth is popped open, her forehead scrunches, and her arms are folded across her chest. She didn't take kindly to my abruptness. I'm not here to make friends though, and idle chit chat won't help me one bit. She seems to debate saying something else but leaves instead. Two minutes later, she thrusts a cup of coffee in front of me without a word.

While sipping the coffee, I plan what to say to Prudence. She didn't react as expected last night. I'd assumed her instincts would kick in, and she'd have recognized my energy, that it would have tugged at her. After that, I figured she'd either be relieved to see me or attempt to fight me. Her fainting, then locking herself away wasn't anticipated. Fight or flight, that's what we did. Faint and feign is an extremely rare reaction for us.

Thinking back to the whole night, the idea that she has no idea who she is or what she can do nervously claws its way into me. And the dread and irritation that I have to change tactics and hold her hand, makes me fucking grumpier than this cup of coffee that has sugar in it when I didn't ask for any.

When she saw me arrive, something should've sparked in her brain that this is normal. Not something she must hide from. A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. Perhaps I'd made a mistake, found the wrong girl. An image of her pops into my head: waves of red-brown hair, bright green eyes, a freckle under her right eye and one on the left side of her bottom lip. Slender but not too tall. She's exactly as she's been described. Her energy's clear too, there in my body, it wraps around my senses and pulls me toward her. The sensation is almost intoxicating.

I chuck the doubts out of my head. I'm not wrong. I seldom ever am.

I can't believe that I'm in this situation. That this became a necessary detour in my life. My blissful life, that had been ripped apart and burnt for good measure too. Now, I have one chance to fix it all, to repair the threads. The girl who needs to help me seems to have an affinity for fainting. What are the fucking odds?

Tapping my fingers on the table, I think about all the possible scenarios I might face and how I need to carefully convince her to come with me. Each path has a logical outcome, and slowly my thoughts even out. I manage to drown out her energy and focus on my surroundings and my next steps.

Charm will be applied first, pure logic second, and if all else fails, I will take her kicking and screaming.

Time is of the essence here with no room for guilt.