Gale
We spent two hours at the Salty Orange, eating, talking, and laughing. Every so often, Ozrik checked his phone and frowned.
Oil Slick was gone when we left. We piled into the car, and Ozrik started it up, but he didn’t put it in gear, seeming undecided.
I didn’t want to go home. The lunch date had been fun, and I wanted more alone time with Ozrik, but didn’t know how to say it.
With evident discomfort, Ozrik said, “I told Stella I wouldn’t be long. She seemed off this morning.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t want this date to be over yet.”
“Me neither.”
“Do you mind if we head back to my place so I can check on her? She hasn’t texted once since I left the house, and I’ve been gone almost three hours.”
“That’s not normal?”
Ozrik huffed. “No. Usually by the three-hour mark, Sheriff Barclay is hunting me down because I’ve ignored over twenty texts and she’s called the police, convinced I’m dead in a ditch.”
“Oh.” Again, I wasn’t sure what to say.
Heading to Ozrik’s was fine with me. If we went back to my place, Dad would be there. Dad and his knowing looks and astute mind. He wouldn’t care if I had Ozrik over. Still, I didn’t want to introduce an awkward situation until I properly explained our relationship.
Ozrik found his mother in the backyard, seated at a patio set, staring off into the distance. A cold glass of what looked like sweet tea sat on the table beside her. The umbrella shaded her face, but her drawn expression showed even in shadow.
“Hey, Mom,” Ozrik said as he went out back. “I’m home. This is Gale. A… friend. We’re going to hang out for a bit.”
Stella attended my old church, so when Ozrik introduced me and she turned, a moment of recognition passed between us. “Gale. I haven’t seen you at service in ages.”
“No, ma’am.” I wasn’t sure how to explain my absence. Most congregants knew I’d gone into the seminary, but not why I’d left. Returning meant answering questions, facing a truth they might not accept. I wasn’t ready for either. “It’s been some time.”
“You should come back. I’m sure Father Drayard would love to see you.”
I nodded. “I’ll pop in sometime and say hi.” I wouldn’t. Avoidance was key to survival.
To Ozrik, she said, “Are you feeling okay still?”
“Much better. Bobby fed me a burger and fries. Gave me energy.”
“Good.” She turned and stared blankly at the landscaped yard. “I’ll be heading to the grocery store in a bit. We need a few things.”
“Okay.” Ozrik hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but turned and waved me inside instead.
We followed a long hallway to Ozrik’s bedroom. He seemed out of sorts, but when I asked if he was okay, he shrugged and found a strained smile.
“Crap. She opened my windows and made it hot in here.” He crossed the room and tugged them shut as I looked around.
Ozrik’s room was a decent size with an attached bathroom, a neatly made double bed, a desk, and a dresser. Surfaces were cluttered, and it had a lived-in feel. It was also a testament to his passion. The walls were plastered with maps from across the US, dozens of colored pins marking locations.
“Are these marking all the tornadoes you’ve seen?”
Ozrik moved in beside me, pride swelling his chest. “No. The green ones are places we’ve been on chases. The red ones are EF4s we’ve witnessed. The orange pins are EF2 or EF3. The yellows are EF1s.”
“What’s this lonely purple guy?” It occupied a spot in our home state over Lawton.
“The only EF5 I’ve seen in real life.”
“No kidding.”
“It was incredible but terrifying. We got pretty close. Lex got the bug stuck in the mud, and we thought she was going to run us down. It’s the first time I was ever scared on a chase. I have a picture, but it’s not as nice as the ones you take. Hang on.”
Ozrik dug through a desk drawer and found a battered 4x6. The corners were soft and frayed. Fold lines marked the glossy surface. It had clearly been cherished for a long time, but it was wild. I felt its intensity.
“The picture doesn’t do it justice.”
“When was this?”
“April 14, 2023. Right here in the heart of Oklahoma. She was brutal. Did some nasty damage. The guys and I spent three days in the area helping with cleanup afterward.”
“Oh, I remember seeing that episode on your YouTube channel. I didn’t realize it was an EF5.”
I handed him the photograph, and Ozrik tilted his head. “You’ve watched our channel?”
Heat filled my cheeks. “Maybe.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Know your enemy?”
“Gale Windrow, you’re a terrible liar.”
Smirking, I studied more of what hung on his walls.
Ozrik had posters of radar images showing beautifully formed supercells, random clippings from newspapers and magazines showing unstable weather, and various cloud formations.
A framed piece of artist paper featured transitional sketches of what would become the Twisted Fates logo.
“You’re the one who should have gone to school for atmospheric science.”
Ozrik followed my gaze as I browsed. “I feel like school would have ruined it for me. Sucked the joy out of a good thing, you know?”
“Maybe. English lit never ruined my enjoyment of reading.”
“I guess.”
I stopped at a photograph depicting a man’s back. The lighting was poor, but the camera’s focus was on a tattoo of a massive tornado running up his spine. “What’s this?”
“Really?”
I glanced at Ozrik, confused.
He chuckled. “It’s my tattoo. Vern’s a terrible photographer.”
“You don’t have a tattoo.”
“Yes, I do. That one.” He motioned to the picture.
“How did I not know that?”
I’d seen Ozrik mostly naked twice, but thinking back, both times it had been dark, and he’d never faced away from me. In the motel room, the morning Noah walked in on us, I must have been too panicked to register. It wasn’t like we’d had much private time to explore each other intimately.
Ozrik’s grin turned devilish as I gawped between him and the photograph. “Wanna see?” he asked.
I didn’t answer. Regardless, he tugged his tank top over his head and turned.
“Holy shit.”
The tattoo took up the majority of his back, from the base of his spine to nearly his nape. A highly detailed, swirling, debris-spitting tornado, fully rendered in black and white. It had many of the characteristics of the EF5 he’d photographed, and I suspected it had been used as inspiration.
“That’s incredible.” Without thinking, I ran my fingers over it, admiring the detail. “It’s almost like your logo.”
“More realistic, but that was the idea. Elliott’s wife drew it. She’s an artist. She did our logo at the same time.”
Ozrik turned, tank top in his hand, chest bare. The charm from his necklace rested near the midline of his pecs.
“My mom doesn’t know about it. She’d have a fit and probably have me tested for HIV again, so don’t tell her.”
I bit back a smile because he was serious, but Ozrik snorted. “Whatever. Go ahead and laugh. I can take it.”
“Why would I tell your mother?”
“I don’t know.” He tossed his shirt aside. “I’m not ready for that level of harassment.”
“When did you get it?”
“About ten months ago. For my twenty-fourth birthday.”
Ozrik flopped down onto the bed, shuffling to rest on the pillows. He folded his hands under his head and stared up at me.
Something about bare-chested, bad-boy Ozrik in ragged jeans and with tousled hair, lounging in bed and looking at me like he wanted to eat me alive, stirred my blood to life.
His devilish smile emerged. “Are you having dirty thoughts, Gale?”
“No.”
“Liar. Your face says differently.” He reached out a hand. “Come. Lie down with me?”
“What about your mother?”
“She never bothers when I have people over. Besides, she’s probably already left for the store.”
I scanned the room, realizing we were peacefully alone. We weren’t sneaking around a motel in the middle of the night. We weren’t parked on a side road at the mercy of the weather. No one was expecting us or wondering where we’d gone.
I joined him.
We shared a pillow, heads together, side by side, staring at the ceiling. My pulse thrummed with anticipation.
Ozrik held up a finger, and a smile broke out across my face.
I touched the tip of mine to his.
“Zap,” I whispered.
“Zap.”
He weaved our fingers together and held my hand. A simple gesture, and it felt right.
“Are you doing okay?” he asked.
“I’m great, actually. Perfect.”
“It’s the company, isn’t it?”
I snorted. “Obviously.” Shuffling to face him, I propped myself on an elbow. “I was wondering. Can I interview you?”
Ozrik’s brow crinkled. “Why?”
“For my article.”
“Oh, cool. Definitely. Right now?”
I laughed. “No. Give me a couple of days. I need to come up with good questions. You gave me an idea, and I think it works better than what I was trying to do.”
“Oh?”
“Earlier. At the bar.”
“And you’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Nope. Wait and see.”
“You’re a menace.” Surprising me, Ozrik snagged my waist and hauled me on top of him. Locking me against his bare chest, he ravaged my neck with playful bites.
I squirmed and howled with laughter because I was extremely ticklish and couldn’t get free.
His nips turned to kisses, and he brushed his lips over my ear. “Got anywhere to be today?”
“No.”
“Good.”
And it was good. Like I never imagined it could be. This. Him. Everything made sense for once, and I was no longer spinning out of control.
Ozrik removed my shirt before rolling me to my back. The sun shone through the window, pooling across the bed and reflecting its golden light off Ozrik’s tanned skin. It shimmered in his hair and sparkled in his eyes.
“May I?” he asked, thumbing the button on my jeans.
“Yes.”
He stripped me of my pants and underwear before kicking his own aside.
Instead of catapulting forward like I expected, Ozrik paused, sitting back on his heels, one knee on either side of me.
He took his time mapping every inch of my body, his expression concentrated, as if committing the picture to memory.