Page 55 of Four on the Floor: A Menage Romance

So I gave up trying to help and painted all day, with the storm swirling around The Centennial; with the shutters all closed I could hear it but not see it, even though there wasn’t all that much to hear.

I’m not really used to weather, to be honest. I’m from California — Santa Barbara, to be exact, a lovely beach town in the southern part — and I’ve always lived there.

In Southern California, we consider two straight days of light rain to be severe weather, so it’s not like I’m prepared for the snowstorm of the century. Honestly, even driving in the rain makes me a little on edge and nervous.

And it’s coming out in my art right now. I tried to paint for a while, but since there’s no natural light with all the shutters closed, the colors kept coming out weird, and I couldn’t concentrate well enough to get the kinds of delicate, straight lines that my current project requires.

I decided to try and sketch out the next thing, but that’s not working either. The storm’s making me too nervous, too scattered, and every time I try to draw out the thing I’ve got in my head it’s just…bad, so finally I give up and decide that I’m just going to read in the lounge until this whole thing blows over.

Haha. Blows over. Weather humor.

I start the fireplace, then curl up on one of the massive couches with a wool blanket and flip through my kindle. Thank God for e-readers, because otherwise I’d be stuck with just a few books, and knowing myself I’d have decided that an artists’ retreat was finally the time to read some great works of literature. If I’d had to bring nothing but dead tree books, I’m sure I’d have broughtMoby DickandThe Grapes of WrathandGreat Expectationsand other stuff that I’ve been meaning to read for ten years now.

Instead, I scroll toShopaholic Takes Manhattanand settle into my guilty pleasure reading, listening to the faint sounds of my boys practicing.

* * *

A hundred andfifteen pages later, the power goes out.

I startle and look up, suddenly lit by nothing but the fireplace and a slight, eerie glow from behind the closed storm shutters.

I have no idea what to do. The last time the power went out in my house was five years ago, and it happened because it was the middle of a hot summer and everyone running their AC overwhelmed the grid. My roommate and I went out for tacos, and when we got back the power was back on.

I don’t think tacos are an option at the moment, but I remind myself that we’re completely prepared, that we checked off every box on Poppy’s checklist, and we’ll be totally fine.

It doesn’t really help. I’m still nervous and on edge, my brain coming up with all the things that could go wrong in this scenario: the roof could cave in and we could all freeze to death! A tree could fall over right now onto this lounge and crush me! The storm could drive one of us out of our minds until we go on an axe-murdering spree!

Okay, the one most likely to lose it in the face of a little snow is probably me, if I’m being honest. But I’ve seenThe Shining, and I know that doesn’t end well for anyone.

Before I can figure out what, exactly, I’m supposed to do, Dalton comes in, tossing something in one hand.

“I brought you a flashlight,” he says, setting it down on my side table. “You all right in here?”

“Totally fine,” I say, probably a little too fast. “This is great and cool and I’m not at all nervous about being in a huge scary hotel a million miles from civilization with no power.”

Oops.

Dalton leans over the back of the couch and kisses me on the forehead. His warmth spreads through my body and relaxes me a touch, now that at least someone else is here.

“It’s not so bad as all that,” he says, coming around the couch and settling down next to me. I scoot in, sharing my huge wool blanket. “Don’t worry, they’re used to this sort of thing around here. We’ve got enough food, water, and heat for the apocalypse, and they’ll have power back before you know it.”

He puts one arm around me, and I settle into his warmth, feeling some of the tension leave my body as I tell myself that he’s right and there’s no reason to think that this is the end of the world.

“I’m just not used to weather,” I admit. “It’s so… weathery.”

“Torch?” Gavin’s voice asks from the doorway, and both of us turn our heads. “Never mind, I see you’ve already got them,” he says, saluting with his own as he comes into the lounge.

“I got here first,” Dalton says, grinning as he teases Gavin.

Gavin puts his flashlight on the other side table, and I move the blanket aside so he can sit down on my other side, then rearrange the blanket over all three of us.

“Maybe, but I brought the better torch,” Gavin says, teasing right back. “This thing will practically light a whole stadium at night. A thousand lumens or something like that, what’s yours got?”

“You both have very good flashlights,” I say before Dalton can respond. “Now quit measuring them against each other.”

They both laugh and settle in around me. Now I’m leaning against Gavin, Dalton casually holding my other hand.

“It’s a real banger out there,” Gavin says after a bit. “Blowing like crazy. It’s a wonder that the power’s only just gone out with the wind—”

---