As I lay watching from the bed, he sat up with a sudden jerk, his body tense and restless, like a wild animal sensing a storm. The low rumbles of thunder seemed to echo through his very being, making his fingers twitch and his eyes flash with a nervous energy. The shadows cast by the flickering lightning danced across his face, accentuating the lines of anxiety etched on his brow, as if the turmoil outside was mirrored within.
As if sensing my gaze, he turned to me, his eyebrows scrunching together in a questioning scowl. "What?" he asked gruffly, his tone a stark contrast to the vulnerability I'd just witnessed. I couldn't help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. "It's ridiculous," I teased, my words tumbling out in a joyful torrent. "The great Alex, afraid of a little rainstorm!" My laughter only seemed to darken his scowl, but I couldn't help myself - the sight of a Claremont reduced to a nervous wreck by a mere thunderstorm was just too comical to resist.
