It started with a drop.
One fat, cold drop that landed on the back of my hand as I waited outside the school gate. The sky had been gray all day, heavy like it was holding back something it didn't want to say.
I didn't bring an umbrella.
Neither did she.
Rose appeared beside me, brushing a strand of wet hair behind her ear.
"Guess we're both idiots," she smiled.
I shrugged, already soaked through the shoulders. "Figures."
We started walking anyway, rain falling faster, louder. Within minutes, we were sprinting down the sidewalk, laughing, our shoes slapping through puddles.
Then lightning cracked and the sky opened up like it couldn't hold anything back anymore.
We ducked under the awning of a small, closed bookstore, breathing hard, dripping wet. Her laugh faded into soft panting. I could smell her shampoo jasmine and something warm and it made my throat feel tight.
"This is the worst storm I've seen in months," she said, wringing out her sleeve.
"You think it's mad at us?" I asked quietly.
She tilted her head. "The sky?"
"Maybe."
She stepped closer. "Are you mad at me?"
I looked at her. Really looked.
Water clung to her lashes. Her cheeks were flushed from running. And even with soaked hair and a wrinkled uniform, she looked beautiful.
"I'm not mad," I said. "I just don't know how to exist around you anymore."
She blinked. "Why?"
"Because I keep loving you harder every time you smile."
The silence that followed was heavier than the storm.
Her lips parted. A soft sound. Not quite a gasp.
"Kellie…"
I stepped back slightly, heart racing. "Sorry. I didn't mean to"
But her fingers reached out, grabbing the edge of my jacket.
"Don't run," she whispered.
The rain kept falling, wild and loud. But under that small awning, the world shrank to just us.
She looked up at me, and this time there was no doubt. No fear. Just something raw in her eyes. Something that felt like recognition. Like longing.
I wanted to kiss her.
God, I wanted to.
Instead, I reached up and gently touched her cheek, brushing away a strand of wet hair.
She closed her eyes at the contact.
"Kellie…" she said again, softer.
And then footsteps.
A man with a red umbrella passed by, snapping us back to reality. Rose pulled back, blinking.
The moment was gone.
But something had cracked open between us, something we couldn't put away again.
We didn't talk much on the way home.
But as we walked, shoulder to shoulder under a single borrowed umbrella, her pinky finger brushed mine.
And stayed there.