The Luna's Yellow Dress

Drake

It's been raining like it's doomsday, so I decrease my driving speed if I must make it home without an accident. This gives me enough time to notice a woman hurrying down the road, shivering violently from the cold, but as soon as she faces sideways, I recognize her as my crush, Celine.

"Ah ah," I say to myself, slamming my steering in excitement. A damsel in distress needs saving.

In truth, Celine doesn't know me. I'm a waiter at a restaurant while she's a mini-celebrity with the prettiest face I've seen on TV. With eyes the color of brown earth, she's easily the prettiest werewolf in our pack. Right now, through my wet windshield, I can see her bulbous buttocks jiggling as she hurries along. The rain has glued her gown to her body and I reckon she's got the outline of a sexy fish. Or, on a second thought, the outline of a ripe pear. It is unclear what such beauty is doing out here in the rain. Escaping from something? From someone? A flash of lightning fires though the afternoon and startles the hell out of me. It is time, I figure out, to go rescue this damsel. Get her off the damned downpour into the safety of my car.

So I increase the pressure on my accelerator until I am meters away from her backside.

All the while, all the freaking while, my inner wolf keeps yelling warnings at me. "Back the hell off, Drake." Truthfully, I am about making the biggest mistake of my life because Celine belongs to the pack's murderous alpha, Desmond, who has marked her exclusively for himself.

Come to think of it though, I try to convince myself, what's the worst thing that could happen to me? I could become rich, get favored for helping the Luna! Or I could become dead, get the alpha pissed enough to send assassins at me, of course, for holding his woman alone with me in a deadbeat car.

With the options available before me, I decide to chicken out.

The rain intensifies. Thunders rumble in the sky. They get so loud I can hear them through my wound-up windows. The moment I'm about reversing my car, Celine, who's now probably acutely aware that someone may've been following her, looks back and holds her palm over her face to filter out raindrops for clearer vision.

I'm staring at her and she's staring right back at me.

Seconds pass. For lack for what to do, I throw an awkward wave and bare my teeth, hopefully signaling that I'm not a serial killer or something. And that I've been stupid so far. And that, see, never mind Celine, I don't want any troubles with you. I'm currently reversing the car, can you see?

Although, technically speaking, the car remains unmoving.

I may've gotten myself into trouble, I suppose. Palace memories aren't particularly favorable to me. My dad was invited once to attend a meeting at the palace when I was nine. He returned home at dusk vomiting blood, falling on his stomach and dying. He was an activist who the palace hadn't really liked.

Nothing, absolutely nothing should connect me or my household to that palace ever again, and I hope this ends right here with Celine.

I stop waving at her and decide to reverse my car for real and for good.

But she does what shocks me to my spine. She walks directly towards the car, scuttles around toward the passenger side and tries forcing the door open. My car is rickety. The outer door handle won't give way, so I lean over from my driver seat to tug on the inner handle of the door she's trying to open.

She practically jumps into the car.

She feels like a cannon launched accidentally into my life. I get dizzy from the truth of it. Of all the people in the world, of all the people she could choose, the Luna is here with me. In my car. She and I. Alone. Her scent wastes no time filling up everywhere. She smells like roses and mountainsides and menthol all at once. My brain feels confused. The experience is indescribable and otherworldly.

"Have you been following me?" she asks without looking up, bending over to unbuckle her shoe straps.

I'm now more startled than the lightning had made me. Such confidence she's got, though, I think to myself. I mean I could pull out a penknife from nowhere and stab her on the back. This is how they train palace women? To be this regal and bold? To be this careless? Or perhaps it's just something with me. I must look too innocent and harmless, with my boyish face and all.

My car remains unmoving. The rain falls like liquid bullets, drumming noisily on the car's roof above as I watch Celine working her shoes. She's completely drenched. The car seats are made from leather, of course, so her wetness is totally okay. Although, truthfully speaking, if they hadn't been made from leather, who cares? They could as well be made from an absorbent that collects every drop of water off her body. I want Celine to wet my seats. I want Celine to wet my life. I want her to... Celine, without warning, straightens up and stares at me, flipping her wet hair sideways until I inadvertently have few water drops on my face. "I asked you a question."

Oh, the question. What was it? Her hair sits like dead grass on her forehead as she looks at me. The rain has combed her eyelashes into tiny distinct collections. I realize I am stupidly engrossed, now noticing how her earth-brown pupils are browner than I had thought. "I'm sorry," I stammer softly to her. "What was your question again?"

"You've been following me, haven't you?"

"Yes," I reply, feeling unjustly accused. "I only assumed you needed help."

"That's not how to help someone," she retorts. She stares authoritatively at me. "It felt like you were trying to harm me. Where do you live and where are you coming from?"

Oh, I'm now in trouble truly. Lie to her, Drake. I say to myself. Lie about both your origination and your destination, so that one day a hired killer doesn't sneak into your kitchen while you're not at home to poison your food or so.

"From work," I say without actually lying. My sister Suzy says I'm a terrible liar, even right from our childhood. She knows I'm lying when I purse my lips before opening them to talk. She has a theory to explain it: It's something your body does while your brain gets busy cooking up something false. I can't argue with Suzy. I've caught my lips behaving exactly that way too many times. "I live few blocks away from here," I say to the Luna.

"You stay alone?" she asks. "Children? You stay with your mum?"

"I stay...," I say, pausing momentarily to process what's going on. "...alone.

"Good," she says. "Now drive me to your place."

Just like that? I think to myself. I clear off a big lump from my throat and swallow some spittle.

"I don't understand."

"It is raining," she replies gently, making patient hand gestures like she's explaining a complex

idea to a child. "And your place is few blocks away. Take me there, to your place, until the rain subsides and I can safely leave, yeah? Will that be a problem?"

"No, ma'am," I reply, afraid at the possibility of two opposing fates: It's either I'm about to get laid, or my house is about to get mapped out for something sinister. "It won't a problem."

She shrugs, like, okay, so why are we still here then?

I stop looking at her, put my car's gear on level one and off we go.

It doesn't take too long and here we are, right in front of my apartment within a block of flats. What will my neighbors say? The street is currently empty because of the rain.

I quickly alight. Bowing my head to avoid the punishing raindrops, I run around my car to Celine's side and signal for her to open from the inside. She does and a torrent of rain rushes into the car at her like crazy. I cover her up with my larger frame and we both hurry to the awning of my doorstep. Celine is tall for a typical woman. The top of her head is at the level of my neck.

I fumble out my keys. I insert the appropriate one into the keyhole and surprisingly find out that my fingers are shaking. That's definitely not from the cold, I admit to myself. You're shaking from anxiety, Drake. Shame on you. She isn't going to eat you. She isn't Dracula. How good is your room, Drake? You haven't washed your dishes from this morning. Oh stupid, stupid you. You haven't done your bed either!

My door opens and Celine rushes into my room.

With her wetness and all.

She's in!

She's in my space, dear universe, dear moon goddess.

I stand at the entrance, bewildered, confused, allowing stray raindrops beat my back. Fate is about to start something funny with me but I'm all up for it.