by Abigail Armani
Catrina stood at the end of the alleyway that led to the club, shivering as a cold wind lashed at the tendrils of her hair and tore through the thin layers of clothing she wore. Her hair flapped wildly around her face as she attempted to smooth it back with numbed fingers. It was a pointless gesture; she gave up and thrust her frozen hands into her jacket pockets, squinting now as the steady drizzle quickened into fat rain drops relentlessly beating a tattoo on her eyelids. The queue that had formed outside the door was swiftly diminishing as people were admitted to the comfort of a warm interior. As the minutes ticked slowly by, she remained there, indecisive, her confidence wavering as uncertainty engulfed her.
She couldn't do it. She couldn't go inside. It was a bad idea and she should have stayed home. Hunching her shoulders, she turned and began to retrace her steps, completely unaware that she was being observed.
A tall figure standing in the doorway had been watching the lone woman hovering, and when she eventually turned to leave, his lips curved into a wry smile of understanding. Pulling up the collar of his leather jacket he strode after her. By the time he caught up with her she had left the darkened alleyway and was on the street, tottering along precariously in high heels. A swiftly moving car drove by close to the kerb, sending up a massive spray of rain water that had collected near the drain, effectively soaking the girl from head to foot.
"Oh, crap!!" she squealed and stumbled backwards and would have fallen were it not for the iron grip of a hand on her arm.
"Hey. I've got you." She turned to face him and he looked into a startled green-eyed gaze. "You okay?"
"Er, y-yes. B-but I'm soaked. Damn!" A hand shot up to wipe her face, and he thought he noticed tears amongst the raindrops. "Thanks," she added, shivering.
"No problem." He still held her arm. "You look frozen stiff." She nodded and gave him a watery smile. There was something about her that caught his attention. It was more than mere looks - although bedraggled he could see how pretty she was - and he was determined to continue the conversation without scaring her off. He gestured to the brightly lit coffee shop across the road. "I'm Max. Max Carter. Let me buy you a coffee." He sensed her hesitation as she gave him a doubtful look. "I could do with one myself," he said, smiling. "It shouldn't be this cold in April. I'm bloody freezing."
Catrina wavered, but his smile was so warm and genuine, and she was frozen to the bone. "Okay, Max Carter," she found herself saying.
"Great." He steered her safely across the road and a few minutes later they were ensconced in a quiet corner of the coffee shop sipping Cappuccino. "Are you going to tell me your name?"
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