Johnny Storm Novels & Stories

“Can you please get rid of the damned microphone? It’s giving me a headache.” Stormy pauses, clearly debating the pros and cons in his head. He’s kind of easy to read. “I can’t,” he says at last. “Why?” I cross my arms over my chest. “I already established that you’re not Noah, so unless you’re someone I actually know, you have no reason to be wearing one.” Stormy tilts his head. “And what if I am someone you know?” Uhm. That makes me pause. My mind immediately runs through every friend I have and none of them fits his description. Plus there is absolutely no way any of them is gay.

Storm and him high-fived each other and I was never this confused my entire life. How the hell was Storm acquainted with Jano? I never heard them about them talking or having any interaction. "You guys can't even use the back entrance. Bobby said there are reporters there too," he added and I bit my lower lip. Did I make a mistake about coming here? Did I make a bigger mess because of my rash decision? I watch as Storm started typing on his phone. "It's okay. We'll use the front. Thanks!" he smiled before turning his attention towards me.

Neither was their language. “So how old are you?” Storm asked, with lipstick smeared along his mouth. “Dad, your face…” Nivia said, much to her mother’s amusement. He wiped his face with the back of his shirt, “how fucking old are you, Rutherford, is it?” “Alpha Rutherford Dashwood.” “Oh, it’s Asswood!” Storm suddenly said, winking at his daughter. “This dude… The man you’ve been having all those videocalls with! The Moon Goddess has a sense of fucking humor.” Then his death glare went back on me, “so? Age?”