The rain had stopped, leaving the streets glistening and the air smelling like wet asphalt and fresh leaves. I stepped carefully over puddles, my hoodie still damp, hair plastered to my face. The park was quiet now, almost empty, and the soft hum of city life felt distant, muted by the remnants of the storm.
I couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened. Jace. His hand brushing mine, the way he had looked at me… it was as if the rain had washed away everything I'd tried to protect in my heart.
And yet, my chest ached. My mind kept pulling me back to Carter the calm, kind gestures, the way he had noticed me before anyone else. I hated how complicated it had all become.
I found myself back at the bench where we had spent the earlier part of the day, sketchbook in my lap, but my pencil didn't move. I wasn't thinking about drawing. I was thinking about him about Jace, his sudden closeness, the way his presence made my world shift.
"You stayed."
I jumped slightly, looking up to see him standing there, dripping wet from the rain, a small smirk tugging at his lips. His hair clung to his forehead, droplets running down the sides of his face, but somehow, he looked… alive. Magnetic. Dangerous.
"I… I was just…" My words faltered. I couldn't explain why I had stayed, why I hadn't run like I usually did.
"You didn't run," he said, stepping closer. "Good."
My stomach twisted. "Why are you here?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"To make sure you're okay," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. His fingers lingered a fraction too long, and I shivered. "The rain… you could have gotten sick."
I wanted to laugh at the absurdity him worrying about me, after all that had happened but the sound died in my throat. Instead, I just looked at him, caught between wanting to throw myself into his arms and wanting to run as far away as possible.
"You didn't need to come," I whispered.
"I wanted to," he said simply. His gaze held mine, steady and unflinching, like he could see straight into me.
And then, without warning, he stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat of him, smell the rain on his skin, and hear his heartbeat steady, strong, tempting.
"You're… impossible," I breathed, shaking my head.
"No," he whispered, leaning in. "You're impossible. You're all I think about, all I want to think about, and I can't stop."
My heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst. I wanted to deny it, to tell him he couldn't feel that way, to remind myself of Carter, of the mess this could all become. But the truth was simpler, sharper, undeniable: I wanted him too.
And then his lips were on mine, soft, urgent, electric. The world blurred the wet benches, the puddles, the remnants of the storm until all I could feel was him. His hands framed my face, holding me steady even as my body trembled with the intensity of it all.
When we finally pulled apart, breathless, wet, and trembling, he whispered, "I can't promise it'll be easy. But I can promise it'll be real."
My chest ached, my thoughts a tangle of fear and longing, but somehow, I nodded. Somehow, in that rain-soaked park, I knew that whatever came next, nothing could feel as alive as this moment.
Because sometimes, the storm doesn't just pass it changes everything.