Weather Girl

Summary: Senka Poe has been in love with Warren Peace for...well, forever. As a senior, a series of changes cause her to reconsider pretty much her entire life and nothing is like she thought it would be. Especially with Warren. WarrenOC eventual, LashOC

Disclaimer: I pretty much claim nothing.

Just a note: I haven't stolen this story from Moontrimmer. It's an old pen name of mine, and when I finally started re-writing this, I realized I had no idea what email I was using two or so years ago.

Project REVAMP/REWRITE: I was working on my magical yearly update and decided to go back and read through the story so far. Then for the next 12 hours I went through and proceeded to revamp every single chapter, and some were almost completely rewritten. Enjoy.

THIS CHAPTER GOT REVAMPED ON AUGUST 4th, 2012.


i'm alive i'm alive i'm so alive

It figured that the first time Warren ever acknowledged my existence in a positive way, I freaked out and completely lost my nerve. My mom had been right: life sure dealt crappy hands. I'd spent so much of my life trying to fold that maybe it was finally time to call, raise, and play. Not that I understood anything about poker, so the reference was lost on me. Regardless, I thought it was a good idea, whatever it meant. Maybe, I thought, it would get him to really notice me and maybe I wouldn't have a panic attack afterwards. His girlfriend didn't help things in my mind. They'd been dating since the dance at the end of the previous school year. Her name? Crystal. And boy did that girl have it going on in the beauty department. Blonde, great fashion sense, etc. Lots of things I never had, essentially. Did it make me a bad person that I always wished at 11:11 they'd break up ASAP?

I liked to tell myself things would be different if I were "normal," though it wasn't as if I knew a thing about normal teenagers. They were like another species or something. But that made it easier to assume my life would be better if I were one. Obviously I wouldn't be pining over Warren Peace or worrying about Lash Dayton. If I came from a normal family, though, things probably would have been very different. At least, that was what fourteen year old Senka told herself to feel better and worse at the same time. Blame the family, which she was a part of, thereby transferring more bad feelings to herself. I was a piece of work, wasn't I?

Now, how to tell this story? I received my powers from my father and the only other thing to know about him was that he left when I was three. His best friend in the world was Baron Battle and my mother was the seer whose vision led to his arrest. Brad, one of my brothers, used to say every other day Dad was a coward who wasn't strong enough to face his family afterwards. For me, the only thing I could say I understood was that one day I woke up and he wasn't there. To be honest, I had no memories of him. He was just a ghost whose face I looked at in family photo albums. But we'll get into that later, I suppose.

Within the next month of the Save the Citizen incident, I brainstormed how to put my poker-reference-plan into play. I made it a point to stay under the radar afterwards, but Magenta kept badgering me about sitting with her group at lunch. My excuse was usually that I couldn't leave Charlie by himself, that'd be rude after all... but one day he was out sick and Magenta jumped at the opportunity to force me. I didn't have a problem with her friends and hung around them every now and then, at least, when Warren wasn't around. That day in particular, he wasn't, so I begrudgingly took a seat at their little lunch table and tried to forget that some of them plain didn't like me (Layla, for instance).

"Hey, tomorrow night I'm throwing a party," Will announced towards the end of lunch. "This time my parents won't bust it up, so you should all be there."

I didn't really want to go but within seconds Magenta, who had her arm interlocked with her glowstick boyfriend, started gushing about how much fun it would be and how I just had to be there. For a girl who liked to wear so much fishnet, she was disgustingly cheerful about the parties. I knew then she wasn't about to let me skip it. Her powers might have been limited to guinea pig shape shifting, but when angry, she was scary. Knowing resistance was futile, I relented.

After school, I was walking out of the doors when a hand came out of nowhere and grabbed mine. Not long after the initial contact, the owner of the hand caught up with his appendage and comfortably fell into step beside me. Lash.

"Senka, are you going to Will's party this weekend?" he asked, looking at me curiously. I felt secretly angry at whichever school gossip had spread the word so fast, as if saying no wasn't an option.

"What's it to you?" I shot back; suddenly grumpy, I was not in the mood for his badgering.

"Because I want you to go with me," Lash told me, rolling his eyes, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Just do it. Please?"

I must have been tired or out of my mind or something, because I told him yes. Maybe I'd developed a fever? Perhaps no one will ever know why I said yes, but I did.

"Whatever. Pick me up at eight," I said offhandedly and promptly got on my bus without giving him another look. It hit me, what I'd just agreed to, after taking my seat. Flashbacks to the year before filled my head. The problem between Lash and I hadn't been that we didn't get along or didn't have a good time together. I convinced myself that it could be a good idea, at least in some parallel universe. Suddenly, in a strange turn of events, my biggest problem became scrounging up something to wear. Thus I found myself standing in front of my mother's closet the next day, trying to pick out shoes and a shirt that would go with my jeans. It might have been a party but even at that I wasn't about to wear a dress. Luckily for me, my mother happened to be a fashionable woman; she always had been. She ran her own psychic business, so presentation had to be a priority lest people think of her as a quack.

Two hours later, I stood on my front porch, closing the door in my dark wash jeans, a see through lace black lace blouse, and a pair of heels I couldn't walk in. Don't ask me why I remember the outfit so clearly. I thought being uncomfortable to feel pretty was part of growing up, so I went with it. Lash's face when I opened his car door and smiled at him made me feel like it was worth it. I hoped Warren would be there to see me, too; there with Lash, looking decent, dancing…and doing whatever it was people did at parties. They weren't exactly my expertise. The point was that I wanted Warren to look at me.

"Here we are," Lash announced as we pulled up to the Stronghold house. Jumping lightly out of the truck, I followed him up to the door, where several kids were lounging.

"Hey Senka! You look fabulous!" Layla's smiling face greeted us, but it wasn't hard to tell her smile wasn't genuine and that she definitely hadn't approved of my choice in dates. Good thing I was never interested in gaining Layla's approval.

"Thanks," I said, echoing her sugary sweet and clearly forced voice, and grabbing Lash's hand to drag him inside. Looking back, I blame Layla for what transpired. It was my personal mission that night to prove to her how much I did not care about her opinion. What better way could there have been than to have a good time with a former-possibly-still villian like Lash Dayton?

"What has gotten into you?" he wondered aloud, perplexed by my eager behavior. It was an understandable confusion, given my seeming 180 degree change. In the car, I'd decided that I was going to enjoy that party one way or another, Warren or no Warren. My mother's advice hid at the back of my mind: play the hand you're dealt. I wasn't dealt Warren…just Lash. And I couldn't slap Layla physically, so emotionally was the closest I could get. Dancing made me feel awkward, so I soon convinced him to grab us something to drink. While he was gone, I used the opportunity to scan the crowd for Warren. Despite his status as Will's best guy friend, he was noticeably absent. Lash returned, and together we made small talk while sipping our drinks, which later turned out to be spiked. Turned out that a little bit of alcohol loosened me up and made me receptive to things like dancing.

I'd never known dancing could be so much fun. And let me be clear: it was not middle school slow dancing. It was kind of sad to think I rarely had that much fun with anyone. Considering I sorely lacked friends and spent a lot of time alone, it made sense. I hadn't ever danced like that before, either, and even though being so close to Lash caused me to blush at first, his body behind mine and his hands on my hips quickly became comfortable. I liked it, no doubt about it, no matter how surprising I found the whole situation. I would have liked it without being a little buzzed, even. After a while, I'd turned to face him and we were terribly close to one another.

"Lash," I whispered, smiling slightly as we moved in tandem. My arms went up around his neck. It occurred to me then that the party was probably going so much better than he could have imagined. I didn't even notice myself start to playfully mess with the hair at the back of his neck, so soft in my fingers.

"Hmm?" was his distracted reply, his attentions occupied as he nuzzled against the skin at the crook of my neck.

"Do you want to get out of here?" I asked him, and even though I felt suddenly shy, my right hand moved to rest against his arm gently. At my words, his head shot up met my eyes. He gave me a surprised and careful look. He didn't mean for me to notice, but I saw him pinch himself out of the periphery of my vision. It made me laugh, amused, and that's when he took my hand and led me back to his truck. Even though I wasn't drunk, barely even buzzed at that point, so much of the detail remains a blur. The rush of adrenaline perhaps has erased the details over the years. It was an excited blur, at least.

I remember his hand on the small of my back, helping me up into the car. I remember pulling up to his house, and the way he seemed so excited he stumbled out of his truck. His hands up my shirt, mine down his pants in a daring move. To make a long story short, that was the night that I lost my virginity to Lash Dayton. The next morning, I woke up and felt confused. My eyes opened but I didn't know where I was or why there was someone next to me. The experience was completely disorienting. Sitting up, I looked over to the space next to me and recognized Lash's sleeping figure. That's when it all came rushing back to me. My face heated up as I relived the details of the night. Had I really slept with Lash? Yes, definitely yes – confirmed by the fact that I realized I was naked. Then I noticed the time flashing from the digital clock on his bedside table and there wasn't time to spend too much time contemplating my so-called deflowering. Shit, I cursed inwardly. It was Sunday and I always went to have lunch at the Paper Lantern with my brothers on Sunday. Why me? I had to ask myself. Why does luck hate me?

Carefully, I slid out of his bed but still clutched a blanket up against my body. I spotted my jeans at the side of the bed, my underwear on the floor by his dresser (I wondered how they'd made it that far from the bed), and tried as quietly as possible to put them on. I found my bra on the other side of the bed, discarded but hanging from the bed post and so I hastily worked to don it. The whole search would have been a lot easier, but Lash's room was a mess, as in a bomb went off level mess. Of course, as luck would have it, it was my mom's shirt which happened to be nowhere in sight.

"What're you doing?" Lash groaned, rolling over to face me with sleepy eyes. I froze dead in my tracks, arms wrapped around my back, one hook of my bra done.

"I can't find my shirt," I said, as if it were obvious, and when I found I could move again, I slipped the last bra hook into place, exasperated. I was sure I looked ridiculous, standing there in just my pants and bra, throwing things around.

"Just take one of mine from the drawer," he instructed, voice thick with sleep and pointing half-heartedly towards his dresser. I nodded and grabbed the first shirt I found; a dark, forest-y green tee with some sort of symbol on it that I didn't recognize it. Without even so much as a shrug, I pulled it over my head.

"I gotta go, mmkay?" I said, at his side, and ran my fingers through his hair unsure of what to do. I hadn't yet decided how I felt about the whole thing, and turned to head for the door.

"Come back to bed, Senka," Lash beckoned, sitting up slightly, and gave me a nice view of his toned chest. Momentarily, all my regret and uncertainty fled. I was sorely tempted to take his advice, until I reminded myself that my brothers were waiting. My older, buff, overprotective brothers who flipped their shit any time I wasn't exactly where I said I'd be. They were probably freaking out.

"I have to meet my brothers for Chinese this afternoon," I informed him simply, and a quick glance at the clock told me I was already late.

"Let me drive you, then," he volunteered. Rolling out of bed, he tugged on a pair of pants and didn't even bother with a shirt. I gulped…oh my.

His agility surprised me. We were at the car within minutes and quickly switched the car in gear. We sat in silence while he drove, but luckily the Paper Lantern wasn't located very far from his house. We pulled up to the small restaurant at the same time Brad and Drew walked in.

"I'll call you later," I said, getting out. "Catch you."

He was quick; I hadn't gotten very far before Lash caught my arm lightly. He pulled me to him and kissed me, much more than a see-you-later kind of kiss that left me in a slight daze even after he moved away.

"See ya," he said with a grin, and was back in his car, pulling away before I could blink. I attributed his grin to the way he left me: standing there with a bewildered look on my face.

"Yeah...see ya," I muttered to myself and walked inside the restaurant. I easily spotted my brothers sitting in a booth over on the other side of the place, and went over to join them. But that morning was destined to be full of surprises, it seemed. The last thing I expected was for Warren Peace to be our waiter. I knew his work schedule embarrassingly well. Since when did he work Sundays?


Fin chapter

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