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“Yeah, well, then you’re the only one.” She seized the knob and gave it a firm yank. The humidity swirled through the doorway to grab her, latching onto her skin and refusing to let go. She stormed off his porch.
Chris kept up. “Wait.”
She ignored him, shoving through the night air to get to her car.
“Wait. Please. Just tell me what happened.”
Her key slid into the lock, but the door refused to give. She made a frustrated noise and slapped it with the heel of her hand.
Then it started to rain.
She swore. “Great.”
Chris was still right behind her. She heard his breathing, could feel his presence like a weight at her back. Rain touched her cheek and rolled down her neck, finding a path under the neckline of her shirt to trail along her shoulder. The water felt warm, like a finger tracing the side of her face.
The thought made her shiver, and she swiped it away.
Chris reached out and took hold of the door handle. It lifted and opened without protest.
Figures. She turned to look at him. Her breathing felt a little quick. “Thanks.”
His eyes were dark. He didn’t seem to mind the rain on his face. “You’re welcome.”
Becca slid behind the wheel and pushed her key into the ignition. But she couldn’t make herself start the car, and he was standing there with a hand on the door, holding it open.
She sighed. “Tyler said if you pulled this again, that they’d take care of it themselves. That the deal was done.”
Chris didn’t say anything for the longest moment. “That’s it?”
“Yeah.” She looked up at him, unable to figure out his expression. “What does that mean?”
Lightning flashed, illuminating his features for a moment. For an instant, he looked frightening.
Then the lightning was gone, and he smiled in the darkness. “I have absolutely no idea.”
And with that, he swung her door shut and turned for the house.
CHAPTER 8
Chris wanted to sit on the porch and feel the rain. But Michael would eventually come out and ruin it, so he went back to his bedroom, where he could lock the door and sit by the window.
The heart of the storm was drawing closer, sending a strong breeze through the screen to ruffle pages of the notebook sitting there. Nick had claimed the desk chair to prop his feet on the bed. Gabriel was rolling a silver Zippo lighter across his knuckles, making it click every time it changed direction. Chris leaned against his dresser and looked out the window, watching the lightning flash in the distance.
Then he just waited.
“So she doesn’t like rain,” said Gabriel.
Nick smiled. “I kind of like the irony.”
“Jesus, you are such a nerd.” Gabriel flung the lighter at him. “Stop using big words.”
“Five letters is a big word?”
Chris sighed. “No one likes rain.”
“You do,” said Nick. He flung the lighter back to his brother.
Gabriel caught it. “Maybe we should put some money on it, see how long it takes Chris to get her wet.”
