Page 54 of How (Not) to Conjure a Boyfriend
“I hear it,” Zachary says.
Huh? He hears it. I still don’t know what they’re… Oh. There it is. The tiny echo of a thousand raindrops falling from the sky and pelting the forest below, somewhere out there. It’s gentle at first, in the distance, but it’s getting louder, growing. It begins to crescendo. One second it’s just a faint noise, the next the first drop splats on my nose, and then another. I twitch as if I hadn’t expected it.
“Rain,” Kaity says the obvious.
“Maybe we should—” Zach ducks when the entire forest lights up in an explosion of white. I fling my hand up. In a second, my eyes take in a hundred trees that were just moments ago veiledin endless black. Then comes the booming clap. The entire earth quakes, and I scream.
“Shit!” I shout, and then as if on command, the clouds unleash a deluge. “Wet! Wet! Wet!”
“Let’s go,” Kaitlynn yells.
I don’t have to think. I’m on my feet immediately.
“Come on!” Zachary yells at me. His voice sounds distant, drowned out by the sudden clamor of the rain.
It’s no longer a single drop here or there. It’s everywhere, like the floor of Valhalla dropped away and let loose all its oceans. Again the entirety of night disappears into bright white, and for a brief moment, everything is frozen in time, flashed in brilliant light. Zachary stands in front of me, hand outstretched while Kaitlynn fades out of sight down the trail. For the tiniest of seconds, I debate it. It’s a moment that drags on like the booming echo of thunder from far away. His fingers are appealing to me. His mouth moving with words I’m not hearing. My teeth clamp tight and my arms jump forward before my mind can make a call. Okay, guess I’m doing this. His fingers wrap around my palm and he pulls as darkness takes over again.
Surprisingly, I don’t trip.
All that should be going through my mind is getting to Zachary’s truck and getting out of this rain to somewhere dry. That’s all, but my mind is split between the way my pants are starting to cling to my knees and how warm his hand still is. It jumps from the chill of icy water pelting my hair and slithering through my curls to the warmth from his lips. Between glimpses of the deluge around us to smoky gray eyes that belong to the wrong person each time lightning strikes.
In another flash, we’re back to the truck, flinging the doors open and practically throwing ourselves inside. When I open myeyes and actual thoughts start to overtake the adrenaline, my first is that his seats are leather.
“Your seats!” I yell, and lift my soaked rear.
“Who cares,” Zach says, letting his head fall against the headrest and blowing out a big breath. His cheeks expand and his lips flap. It’s actually sort of funny, but I look away.
“You sure?” I ask.
“He’s sure.” Kaitlynn leans forward.
“I—” I’m about to say I wasn’t asking her. It’s his truck, not hers, but he interrupts.
“It’s okay. I seriously don’t care,” he says. “I can just let it air out later. As long as we’re not stuck in that.”
He points out the windshield. I can’t see a thing. It’s not just dark, the window is blurred by sheets of water. Yeah, definitely don’t want to be in that anymore. Zachary’s hand lies on the center console next to me. My attention snags between it and Kaitlynn. She’s eyeing me down, grinning. I think shedidsee that.
“Ready to have a hot ass?” Zachary asks, and I twitch at the statement.
“Uh…excuse me?” I ask.
“Your seat, doofus.” Kaitlynn leans back and crosses her arms, fully content with herself.
“Oh, sweet,” I save, sort of. “Nothing like toasty buns.”
“I agree.” Zachary grins at me and laughs.
What was that supposed to mean?
“All right, let’s get back.”
* * *
The heat from the truck vents feels like heaven. It dries my face and has already started in on my damp clothes, but the downpour isn’t done with me yet. It’s waiting for me to get out, just like the weird silence broken only by the rain pelting the roof.
It’s just Zach and me sitting—uncomfortably mushy on his leather seats, I might add—in my driveway with his engine rumbling. We dropped Kaitlynn off at her house down our little gravel road. I got a real quick reminder how much she talks the moment she closed the door behind her and Zach started to my place. It got so uncomfortably quiet.
If one of us doesn’t say something soon I’m going to jump into the freezing rain—it’s literally sleet—before I can’t handle it anymore. And I’m too cold for that. I can anticipate the chill, the way it makes me shiver. I only got the feeling back to my fingers like ten minutes ago, but I think we are both stuck on the same thing. The kiss. The kiss that didn’t happen, but for sure did too. I don’t want to bring it up though.
