Rule #12
POWER OUTAGE DOESN’T MEAN THERE WON’T BE ELECTRICITY
SONNY
When everyone appears to be done eating, as if a silent signal has passed through the room, the women—including Cai and her sister Alex—stand up and begin clearing plates. The table transforms from a sea of food into a retreat of clinking dishes and scraping chairs.
Cai turns to me with a small, apologetic smile. “Give me a few minutes to clear the table and at least pretend to put up a fight to do the dishes. Shouldn’t take long.”
I nod, leaning back in my chair and basking in the warm afterglow of the meal. The food still sits heavy and satisfying in my stomach, but my mind is on the electricity in that hand squeeze.
Once Cai and Alex are far enough away from the table, Rey leans in conspiratorially, his voice low. “So… you got it bad, huh?”
My mouth falls open. I hadn’t realized I’d been that obvious. Heat creeps up the back of my neck. For a second, I consider denying it, but what was the point? Rey has clearly been watching us all night.
“I’m not sure,” I finally say, keeping my voice equally quiet. “She’s pretty great, but she’s not exactly available.”
Rey nods knowingly, like a man who has walked this road before.
“Let me tell you something. I had to watch the woman I love ignore me for years. Go out with other guys. Flat-out reject me more times than I can count.” He pauses, his eyes softening as he glances toward Alex, who is laughing with the other women in the kitchen.
“It was brutal, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat. ”
His smile’s proud, warm, and completely unguarded. It hits me harder than I expected.
I want that easy confidence. The certainty that the person you love will choose you back, messy family and all. But every time Cai defends Trevor, or even brings him up, it’s another reminder that I’m still the outsider here.
I am the one risking a major product launch and important meetings, and for what? To ride out a hurricane with a woman who might never see me as more than a kind stranger?
The lights flicker again, longer this time. A screaming whistle sounds outside, and the roof groans in answer.
Rey takes a swig of his beer, oblivious to both the storm raging outside and the one building in my chest.
“Just don’t give up too soon, man. Some things are worth the wait.”
I force a smile and nod, but inside, the doubt keeps circling: At what point did chasing someone still hung up on someone else become a lost cause?
As an adult, my career, my success- that is what I have to offer others.
But if that comes from gaming, would she even see it as a success?
Would the career I built fall into her ‘negatives’ column?
Without that, what else do I bring to the table?
Cai returns a few minutes later, wiping her hands on a paper towel. “Mama had a premonition. She expects us to lose power within the next thirty minutes. There are still some candles and flashlights I stashed away last time I was home that she hasn’t rounded up. Join me to collect them?”
“Lead the way,” I say, grateful for the excuse to move.
We start in the linen closet, pulling out a cardboard box filled with candles. Some look newer, some are half-melted, several have portraits of saints glowing softly on the glass. As we hunt for flashlights, Cai’s voice drops.
“You know that Gatorade story they were laughing about earlier?” She doesn’t look at me. “I hate it. I was in a really bad place back then. Super self-conscious about my weight. I wouldn’t eat in front of anyone. I’d hide food and binge when I was alone.”
She swallows hard, like the next part is stuck in her throat.
“During that hurricane… I don’t know if something I’d stashed had gone bad or if it was just too much sugar on top of everything, but I got sick.
Really sick. And then my parents found out what I’d been doing.
I wanted to die of embarrassment. Mama and Papa never brought it up again; Papa just repainted my room and acted like I had a stomach bug, but I still cringe every time I think about it. ”
My chest tightens. I want to pull her close, to tell her none of that changes how I see her, but the words feel too big for the narrow hallway. So I just stay quiet, listening.
We move into the bathroom where she cried earlier. Cai crouched to grab two flashlights from under the sink, adding them to the box without meeting my eyes.
“Last stop,” she says, heading toward her childhood bedroom. “I have a box up here with some candles and a lantern that will be useful. Can you give me a hand?”
The closet is a narrow walk-in space lined with hanging clothes, drawers, and a high shelf. A sudden streak of yellow-green light flies past our faces, and Cai gasps. “?Un Cocuyo!” She says and reaches for it. The small glowing bug flies right into her hand.
“Is that a firefly?” I ask.
She smiles and holds it up to get a closer look. “I think these aren’t what people call fireflies. Cocuyos are like a beetle, I think, but they glow like one.”
In the darkness of the closet, as she holds the glowing insect close to her face, it illuminates her eyes and smile in an otherworldly haze.
“There’s a lot of Cuban folklore where Cocuyos are prominent symbols of nostalgia and childhood.
It’s pretty fitting; I haven’t seen one in years!
I use them as symbols in stories I’ve written to represent magic.
Santeros, you know, those who practice Santeria, they used to think that the glow from a cocuyo, or firefly, would mean that the Orishas were nearby. ”
As if realizing Cai’s explanation is over, the little beetle flies off, its glow disappearing into the darkness.
“What a strange thing to find in here,” she says listlessly, her eyes slightly unfocused. Then, as if waking from a trance, she snaps back, clears her throat, and stretches as if resetting herself.
“Where were we?” Cai scans the top shelf, continuing her search for the supplies, rising onto her toes. “I think it’s that one up there.” She stretches but comes up short. “Think you can give me a boost?”
My heart skips. My mouth goes dry. “Sure,” I manage, lacing my fingers together to make a step.
She places one hand on my shoulder for balance and steps into my hands.
Cai holds onto the shelf with her other hand as she steps up; her soft thigh presses against the side of my face.
I try to focus on anything else: the musty scent of old clothes, the tempest outside, and the faint smell of cumin still clinging to her, but it is impossible.
Every inch of me is suddenly, acutely aware of her.
“Oh, I think this is it—” she starts.
A deafening clap of thunder shakes the house. The lights cut out completely, plunging the closet into total darkness.
Cai lets out a surprised squeak and jumps slightly, shifting her weight and causing her to fall.
I moved on instinct, trying to catch her.
The result is us tumbling together, her back hitting the wall, my body pressing flush against hers to keep us both upright.
Our faces are inches apart. I can feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest brushing against mine, the heat of her breath ghosting across my lips in the pitch-black.
My hands are braced on either side of her shoulders, caging her in without meaning to.
The air between us suddenly becomes thick, charged with the storm outside and something far more dangerous inside.
I can smell savory notes from dinner still clinging to her skin, mixed with the floral, clean scent of her shampoo.
Every shallow inhale presses her curves more firmly against me—soft breasts, the gentle swell of her hips, the tender grounding of her thighs against my own, my face still tingling where her thigh had been moments ago.
“You okay?” I rasp, my voice low and rough in the darkness.
She doesn’t answer right away. Her breathing stays quick and uneven, matching mine. One of her hands has landed on my chest, fingers curled lightly into my shirt like she is holding on. Or maybe deciding whether to push me away.
“I… yeah,” she whispers. Her voice trembles just enough to make my pulse spike. “I think so. The thunder just startled me.”
Neither of us moves.
The storm moans outside, taunting us in our current predicament.
The rain is hammering the roof like it wants to drown out everything else.
In the dark, every other sense sharpens.
The heat radiates from her body. The way her hips shift slightly as she tries to steady herself, brushing against me in a way that sends a rush of blood south.
My jaw tightens as I fight the urge to close the last inch between us, to taste the breath she keeps exhaling against my mouth.
This is dangerous. She is still tangled up with Trevor in her head. I’m still hiding who I really am. But right now, with the power out and the world reduced to this tiny, dark closet, none of that seems to matter as much as the way her fingers are slowly tightening in my shirt.
“Sonny…” She breathes my name like a question. Like a warning. Like a plea.
I swallow hard, my forehead nearly resting against hers. “Tell me to step back and I will.”
She doesn’t.
For one suspended heartbeat, the only sound is our breathing and the distant rumble of thunder.
Her free hand finds my waist, pressing against me, sending a current through my body.
I can feel the softness of her body yielding against the harder lines of mine, the way her curves fit so perfectly in the small space between us.
My blood roars in my ears. It would be so easy to lean in, to slide my hand down the curve of her waist, to pull her even closer and finally—
A loud voice echoes from the hallway. “Cai? Sonny? You two okay in there? We found the big lantern!”
The spell shatters.
Cai stiffens, her hand dropping from my waist as if she had only just noticed it was there.
I force myself to step back, as I should’ve from the start.
The sudden absence of her body against mine hits me like cold air.
My heart is still hammering as dim light begins to filter in from the hallway; someone’s coming with a flashlight.
“Yeah,” Cai calls back, her voice shaky but steady enough. “We’re fine. Just… dropped the box.”
She turns toward the light, but not before I catch the rosiness on her cheeks. Her eyes flick back to mine for a split second, wide, conflicted, and full of the same unspoken desire pulsing under my skin.
As we step out of the closet, the storm still raging outside, I know one thing with absolute certainty:
This isn’t just a storm outside anymore. There is another building right between us.
CAI
I once watched a documentary about the strange behaviors of animals and people around storms. Something about barometric pressure or infrasound that made sharks dive deeper, birds fly erratically, and dogs pace.
Now I wonder if it also affects women, making them forget themselves when trapped in close proximity to hunky men in the dark.
I am a serial monogamist. I hold dear the morality of a committed relationship.
I have never cheated or strayed. I believe in clear communication and honest conversations.
So what is happening to me that I nearly threw every principle I hold dear out the window in that closet?
Why am I having to flex every muscle of willpower I possess just to keep from throwing myself at Sonny?
We gather the scattered candles and flashlights in silence, the air between us still crackling with everything we hadn’t said.
I feel compelled to fill it. “It wouldn’t be a true return home if I didn’t lose my footing at least once,” I say lightly.
“I always assumed I’d grow out of my clumsiness by the time I was a wife or a mom.
Have you ever seen a mom who’s constantly stumbling or falling? ”
Sonny clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice stays low, meant just for me.
“You know, some guys are the kind that don’t look ahead,” he says carefully.
“They may mean well and have all the good intentions in the world, but ultimately, they’re no good for someone who has long-term goals.
You deserve someone who can see a future with you, especially if you’re already thinking about being a wife and mom.
You need someone who’s willing to build something real, not just ride the moment until it gets hard. ”
My stomach drops.
He is talking about himself.
The realization hits like another clap of thunder. In the closet, with our bodies pressed together in the dark, he’d felt the pull too; the heat, the way we fit.
Now, out of the closet into the dim glow of the flashlight someone had brought down the hall, he feels the need to warn me.
Telling me, in the gentlest way possible, because I brought up motherhood, that he is the kind of guy who lives in the present.
The fun, kind, steady guy who shows up during a hurricane but who probably isn’t looking for forever. Not with someone like me.
Of course, he isn’t. He’s successful and confident, and he clearly has his own life and goals. Why would he want to tie himself down to a mess like me, still tangled up with an ex, lying to my family, carrying all this baggage?
The guilt that has been simmering all night flares hot and sharp. I force a small nod, my throat tight. “Yeah… I think I understand what you mean.”
Sonny gives me a gentle, almost relieved smile. “Good. I know I said I wouldn’t give you more advice, but I just felt I had to say that.”
The lantern light flickers between us, casting shifting shadows across his face. For one suspended moment, I want to tell him the truth. That every word he just said has twisted like a knife because I am terrified he was describing the limits of what he can offer me.
The words won’t come.
Instead, I clutch the box of candles tighter and whisper, “We should probably get these to the others before the storm gets worse.”
As we walk back toward the living room, the gusts outside are wailing now; the hurricane mourns the loss of something she never had, as the weight of everything unsaid presses down on my chest.
Sonny thought he was warning me that he isn’t long-term material. He is gently letting me know that whatever this electric thing between us is has an expiration date.
And the worst part? A selfish, storm-addled part of me still wants to ignore the warning completely.