“You’re out of your mind.”
“Thank you!” she shouts back, over the music and rain. “Now dance!”
At first, it’s awkward. I shift my weight, half-heartedly moving to the beat as she grins at me. But then she bumps her shoulder into mine, laughing when I stumble. She loops our hands together again, starts twirling under my arm, and I can’t resist as I begin to move along with her.
The rain soaks through everything—my shirt, her pjs, the ground beneath our feet, but it doesn’t matter.
She’s still laughing with her head tipped back, and for the first time in years, I feel something like joy.
It’s ridiculous, messy, and it feelsgood.
We dance until the music fades, and the only sounds left are our breathing and the soft hiss of rain.
“See?” she says quietly. “Told you it helps.”
I look at her, really look at her, and my throat tightens. The rain clings to her lashes, catching in the corners of her mouth where her smile still lingers.
“Yeah,” I say softly, voice barely audible over the rain. “Yeah, it does.”
She brushes a wet strand of hair out of her face, catching me staring again. “What?” she asks, voice breathless.
I shake my head, the corner of my mouth twitching. “Nothing.”
“Come on, Reed,” she teases, stepping closer, rainglinting on her lashes. “You’ve been staring all night. What is it?”
I swallow, hesitating before I lean down, reaching out and brushing her hair away from her face. My fingertips graze her hair lightly, barely touching her skin.
She inhales sharply, and my heart pounds against my chest. Her breath warms my knuckles as I let my hand rest near her jaw, not quite touching but close enough to feel her heat.
“I just… never seen anyone as beautiful as you.”
Her lips part slightly as her eyes glisten, not from the rain, but from something else.
“Hey,” I say, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She lets out a small laugh that breaks halfway through, her voice catching. “You didn’t upset me,” she says softly. “It’s just… I haven’t heard that in a long time.”
I stare at her, trying to piece together how someone like her, who shines so bright it hurts to look at her sometimes, could ever go this long without hearing it.
I want to ask, and I want to fucking know.
But I don’t have the right to pry.
So I stay quiet.
She inhales, wiping at her cheeks even though the rain does it for her, and smiles again, a little smaller this time. “I’m tired,” she says, brushing it off with that same sunshine tone. “Think I’m gonna head to bed.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Yeah, you should get some sleep.”
She lingers there for a moment, as if she wants to say more, like there’s something on her tongue neither of us is brave enough to speak.
The night air shifts, cooler now, and she wraps an arm around her chest, shivering.
Her toes curl into the damp grass before she steps. The blades bend and cling to her skin, dew glistening on her ankles.
She ambles, not because she’s hesitant but because something in both of us wants to stretch out these last few seconds.
Fireflies make way for her, scattering in gentle bursts as she walks toward the house.
