• • •

On Friday Leslie and I have a girl night at the local bar. After work, I hurried home to change. I was feeling better, still had the sniffles but better none the less.

"Going out tonight?" My mother asked from my doorway.

"Yep, we've had it scheduled for a while...is that alright?" I asked her setting out my outfit.

"You don't have to stop your life for me, sweetie. Go have fun, Simon and I will watch a movie," my mother smiled at me, "What are you wearing?"

"I was going to wear my overalls, with this sweater," I gestured towards a pair of wine corduroy overalls with a black long-sleeved sweater.

"I've always like those overalls. What shoes?"

"Umm," I dropped to my knees and pulled out my shoe bin from underneath the bed, "I hadn't thought about shoes, but I think these would work." I had found these vintage brown leather ankle boots that laced up the front at a local thrift shop in town.

"Looks like you've got an outfit. I hope you have fun." She looked over her shoulder when she heard Simon bark, "He's calling me, Oh what time will you be home?"

"Uh, that I do not know, but I won't stay out long."

"No, no stay out as long as you'd like. You haven't been out for a while."

"Are you sure mom?"

"Yes, go have fun."

The atmosphere in the bar was heavy and loud. The music blasted loudly in the back from half working speakers. The crowd was sparse, and I was glad that there weren't many people tonight. I never liked crowds. We sat at a table towards the back. Leslie came back with a few beers.

"It's so dead in here."

"I like it; I hate when there are too many people."

"I know, I know." She gestured wildly with her hand dismissing my statement. After all, she has heard it many times.

"I don't think I want to stay out late, my mom was eerily cool about it," I told Leslie drinking my beer. Wasn't my usual pick, but it'll do.

"What? Why?! You already said she was cool with it, Ingrid." Leslie spun to look at me so quickly I thought her neck was going to snap. Her blue eyes were as big as saucers. Her lips pulled into a tight grimace, and I realized that she was mad.

"Wait, are you mad?" I asked, my brow coming together.

"Yes! Ingrid, finally after months of not hanging out we finally can, and you want to leave early."

"My mom is sick. Leslie, what do you expect?"

"I get that you're worried, but she also gave you the ok to go have fun. Trust that she wants you to have fun, okay."

I sighed, "Ok, I'm sorry. I'll stay."

Hours later Leslie was dancing with a guy, a few drinks in her and she was very loud and happy. I was secretly hoping my mom would text me. I guess my mom noticed how much of my time I was giving to her. It was nice of her to allow me to go out without any guilt, but I'm still worried. My half-filled beer bottle idled in my hands as I watched the crowd. Alcohol, in general, isn't my favorite thing, but the beer is just gross. Watching Leslie dance and let loose was nice.

Something crashed loudly, and I looked up to see a fight breaking out. Men were hollering, and more glass bottles smashed to the floor as anger took over and fists began to fly.

"Leslie?!" I cried out, but I couldn't see or hear anything. Glasses were flying and people were arguing. Men were being thrown onto tables and across the bar and obscenities were loud and booming. Panic set in and I looked around trying to find out how to get out of here and away from this. Just as I attempted to move from my stool another man tried to shove past the one in front of me and he was subdued quickly. No matter where you were if you moved you were greeted with a fist.  Even some women were throwing slurs and backing up their men.

"Leslie?!" I hollered over the breaking glass and groans of beaten men. Where did she go? I hope she wasn't stuck in the middle of this fight. I needed to get out of here. I stood up, slung my purse over my shoulder, squared my shoulders and ran into the crowd. I was small enough to squeeze past and make it behind the bar and duck under to the other side of the room. I spotted the door, it was wide open and I could feel the night air. As I stepped towards the door someone grabbed my arm and yanked me back so hard I lost my footing.

"Get the hell off of me!" I yelled as a man loomed over me. His lips were pulled up into a sly smile, and I recognized him as one-third of a group of men who always catcalled Leslie and me at work.

"Saw your friend run out the back earlier, seems like you're here alone, kitty cat." Mason, I believe his name was, took a step towards me. I watched in amazement as a large man stood up in front of me. His back was to me, his hair dark and long, his shoulders were broad and my eyes traveled down his back towards his clenched fists. I hadn't noticed him before, but I think he was sitting the entire time the fight was happening. No one bothered him.

Mason lunged forward his fist ready. I don't know if I missed something or if the mystery man was just that fast because one punch and Mason was on the floor. He stepped over Mason and walked right out the door, clearing a path. I quickly scrambled to my feet and followed. Who was he? How the hell did he move so fast? I ran out into the cold air slipping on ice that accumulated outside the front door.

"Fuck!" I scream falling flat on my back.

"Ingrid?!" Leslie came running up to me, careful not to slip on the ice too, "Oh my god! I'm so glad to see you! I was about to call the police so they could get you!"

"What the fuck, Leslie! You left me." I winced sitting up. I looked around for the man, but he was nowhere to be seen. She helped me stand, and we carefully moved towards the parking lot, police sirens in the distance.

"I know, I'm so sorry! I wouldn't be any help if I got knocked out now would I? Let's just try to get home, okay?"

"Yeah, I want to go to sleep." I massaged my temples, I could feel a headache coming on.

• • •

Weeks later I stumbled upon something so weird. Simon barked loudly as we passed the lighthouse fences.

"Simon, what are you barking at?" I looked through the fence to see a man, with his back to me, putting a new hinge on the old red door of the lighthouse.

My whole body froze and I just watched in awe. He seemed so familiar. He was in a dark grey worn t-shirt, dark blue jeans, and brown boots. His back was to me and I could see the muscle moving underneath his shirt as he worked. He was tall and broad and obviously fit. His long dark tresses were wavy and pulled up haphazardly into a bun on top of his head. A select few tendrils escaped the hold and rested against his tanned neck.

A part of a tattoo peeked out from underneath the collar of his shirt, and his arms covered in distinct sharp lines. To me, it looked like some sort of tribal tattoo. How long was I going to sit here and stare at him? I've never seen anyone come in or out of the Lighthouse before.

"How long are you going to stand there and not say anything?" His voice broke into my thoughts so quick and sharp that I gasped, but he didn't turn around.

"Sorry, I've just never seen someone at the lighthouse before, I always thought it was abandoned," I explain quickly.

"Now you know it's not," He turned around, and I was shocked. Dark wavy tendrils of loose hair shaped his face and scythe-shaped eyebrows. A deep scar cut his right eyebrow in half. His Roman nose and half-dome cheekbones sat above a dark mass of wavy hair. His beard was long but well kept. His wrestler's shoulders were part of his burly physique. He was tall, well over six feet.

He walked with a tiger like tread and his nomad-golden eyes twinkled. They were bright and dropped slightly, but that only made him more appealing. His eyes were like halcyon gold, almost entrancing against his tanned skin and darker hair, and his face was so angular and beautiful.

"My dad lives here. I come back now and then." He explained picking up his toolbox. His voice was deep, rough and smooth at the same time as he spoke I watched his lips move so effortlessly. The muscles in his arms strained and I wondered how he wasn't cold.

"You're Mr. Curry's son?" I asked looking up at him.

His laugh was sincere as he nodded his head, "Yes, I'm Arthur." he extended his hand over the fence. Hesitantly, I placed my hand in his. It was massive and undeniably warm.

"Ingrid, nice to meet you. I'm sorry, to be frank, but I feel like we've met before." I babbled scared that I'd stammer.

"You're not mistaken, Ingrid," He smiled, and his cheeks rose, his eyes squinting slightly as his lips pulled apart to show perfect white teeth.

"I'm not?"

"No." And with that small, simple word he just turned around and went back inside. I stood there confused and bewildered. We've met before? How and when, and how do I not remember a man like him?

Pulling out my cell phone and I dialed Leslie, "Are you home?"

"Uh, yeah what's up?"

"I'm coming over."

I didn't give her time to reply because I was already knocking on her door.

"So what's happened?" She asked scooping up Simon while we sat in the living room. Leslie's straight blonde hair tucked behind her ears, and her lithe frame clad in her favorite band t-shirt and grey sweatpants. The sheet imprint was pressed into her left cheek and I realized that I had woken her up.

"Ok, you know the lighthouse? The one that has been abandoned forever?"

"Yeah, I live by it, remember."

"Yeah, well it's not abandoned anymore. Mr. Curry's son is working on it."

"I didn't even know Mr. Curry had a son, how did you meet him?"

"He was fixing the door outside. I didn't even know Mr. Curry still lived there. I haven't seen him in months. He also says we've already met. Leslie, I for the life of me can't figure out where I've met him before."

Leslie's face scrunched up and asked me if it was the guy all the girls have been talking about whenever they come into the store. We hear them whisper like schoolgirls, gossiping about how he looked at them or where they saw him. I remember one girl said that he looks like a God. I just shrugged at her, and she looked at me oddly.

"What? What is it?"

"You're telling me that that this man all the girls are losing their shit over flirted with you - that's what that whole line was about meeting you before - and you just walked away to come to ask me a million questions?"

"I mean, yeah we spoke. Wasn't much of a conversation." I ran my hand through my curly unkempt hair and rubbed my face.

"Ing, you need to go speak to him again, go down there right now and go talk to him."

"But-,"

"No buts, go now, I'll be here when you get back."

"Okay."

I threw my coat back on and shoved my sock-clad feet into my worn boots, racing out the door.

I made it to the fence, slipping inside the perimeter quickly.

"Arthur?" I called knocking on the door, it creaked open, "Hello?"

My voice echoed off the walls. I could see inside the front door into the house which is littered with debris and past that a broke banister beside a stairway that led upstairs.

The paint was weathered and peeling off in spots, and the slats in the shutters on the windows were mostly broken out. A slight breeze made the screens tap against the house, and the hinges squeaked. All the rooms on the bottom floor were furnished, and it had a homey feel to it. I had expected a falling to shambles inside, but this was a surprise. The kitchen was clean besides a few dirty dishes and bruising bananas on the counter.

I climbed the shaky metal staircase with caution, each footfall let out a metallic clang that echoed and all the while the wind whipped around in a howling scream.

The sun low in the sky illuminated the upstairs rooms making the two windows facing me look like dime red eyes and the door below a gaping maw. I could hear a low moaning sound, perhaps nothing more than the wind blowing down the lopsided chimney.

Inside the lighthouse the stairs twisted upward, damp from the moisture-laden air that poured in through the naked windows. Inside one of the second-floor rooms were the first signs of life. A mattress was on the floor pushed into the corner. Pillows of many sizes and patterns laid on top, the three knit blankets didn't seem to hold much heat.

"Hello?"

Still no answer. Further into the room was a closet and bathroom. A toothbrush, towel, a few hair ties, and a brush were in the bathroom. The closet was just as bare with a handful of clothes folded on the top shelf. I went back into the room and made my way downstairs. The staircase went all the way up, winding so high above I dared not try to walk up there. I wondered momentarily where Mr. Curry's room was.

Arthur was not here, and I had no idea when he'd be back. So I made my way back outside sure to shut the front door behind me. I'd hate for someone to wander in...even if that's what I had just done.

As I walked past the shore something caught my eye. Far out across the bay, something was emerging from the water. I quickly ducked behind building equipment and a shaky ladder. What I was seeing couldn't be real, it just couldn't.

Out across the water, a man was walking out of the bay like he was walking upstairs. His dark leather pants propelled water off while it clung to his naked, sculpted chest. His body was covered in tattoos, dark and ominous against his tan skin. His dark hair was sun-kissed at the end in such a beautiful golden honey color. I'm surprised I hadn't seen that earlier. Golden eyes shined bright against the dark that was now creeping our way.

Thunder clapped above, and I jumped, my foot pushed the shaky ladder, and it hit the ground loudly, the sound rang out against the quiet and Arthur's eyes locked with mine. His brow furrowed and his nose was wrinkled as his lips pulled into a snarl behind his thick beard. Panic set in as we stared at each other.

At this moment I knew I should not have come looking for him, so I did the only thing I knew and ran. I ran away so fast my mind screaming for me to run faster with every pump of my arms.

Leslie was shocked and hurt when I came by her place, collected my dog and ran all the way back home. I knew I owed her an apology and some explanation for my behavior, but right now I couldn't shake what I had witnessed. Arthur had walked out of the sea like it was nothing like he did it every day like the water wasn't cold.

I stayed up all night searching on the web, looking for anything that could explain it, but there was nothing to find. I only kept coming across the folklore of the man who'd bring fish on the King Tide, the one they joked could speak to fish.

Tomorrow at work I'd have to ask around. Maybe go see Mr. Swift at the barbershop, he's pushing eighty and has lived here his entire life. My eyes wandered to my half-open window. The cool breeze flowed through the window rustling the papers strewn across my floor. I didn't get any sleep, my alarm scared me when it went off and I was still furiously searching for answers on my laptop. I'm not even sure how I managed to dress, brush my teeth and drive to work this morning. I was already crashing and it was only 9:30.

* * *

Today, Leslie had the day off and I watched my phone buzz as she called me for the tenth time since yesterday. I didn't want to tell her anything until I knew what there was to tell. Besides, this wasn't something you just go around saying. Oh, by the way, the hot guy who lives in the lighthouse is some sort of alien that just walks out of the water and is possibly the same guy in the folklore tales.

After my shift, I texted my mom, telling her not to wait up that I was staying with Leslie tonight and made my way downtown towards the barbershop and the lighthouse. The sky was dark and I hoped it wasn't going to storm just yet. The weatherman had said a series of storms were heading our way.

I made my way to the barbershop only to be greeted by the closed sign hanging in the window. Mr. Swift must've closed up shop early because of the storm. Now that I think about it, I hadn't passed anybody on the way here. I looked around to see many of the storefronts dark or shop owners closing up.

"They say it's supposed to be a bad storm; you might want to get home, girly." The old woman who owned the hardware store told me as she locked up.

"I think everyone else has." I laughed nervously, and my goodbyes were said as I pulled my parka closer as the wind picked up. I began to walk back up the hill towards the grocery store when the rain came pouring down. The sky had darkened in just mere minutes.

I cursed at myself for not grabbing the parka with the hood and for not wearing a thicker shirt. The cold rain ran down my neck soaking my t-shirt. I could even feel it down the back of my black jeans. One thing I was glad to have were my red rain boots. They may be old, but they were keeping my feet dry even if the rest of me is soaked to the bone.

In the darkness the only sign of the lighthouse was the brilliant white light -and even that almost failed in the thick rain. Between black cloud and black ocean, it gave illumination to the waves, sculpted by the wind, dancing and powerful. I was going to be worse off if I tried to make it to my car so I turned back and headed to the lighthouse.

I huddled close to the wall as I pounded on the door.

"Hello? Arthur!"

I pounded my fist against the drenched wood once again. I was secretly hoping that maybe the door was unlocked like yesterday and that maybe he wasn't home, but above me, a light shined out of the window that looked into the spiral staircase and I watched a dark figure go past. My heart began to beat so fiercely in my chest that I wondered if this was the worst idea of my life.

The door swung open, and there stood Arthur, his hair was down, and his chest and arms covered in a thick knitted grey sweater, his jeans were dark and his feet bare. His face didn't seem angry at all, in fact, he was smiling at me. I just stared at him the thought of asking if I could come in just sitting on the edge of my tongue.

Arthur stepped aside, "It's not like you're getting wet or anything." He deadpanned gesturing for me to come in.

And with a heart beating so fast and a body growing hot under his gaze I crossed the threshold into his home worried about what might come if this night.