The sky had darkened to a shade just short of night, and thunder rumbled in the distance. "Looks like you're about to get drenched out there."
I glanced outside, chewing my lip nervously. "I should get going, then, before it hits."
Wynter tilted his head, frowning. "Maybe you should wait. It looks awful." His gaze drifted to my backpack by the door. "Actually, stay."
"What?" I asked, perplexed, with wide eyes.
"You heard me. Stay," he insisted. "Just one more night. I can go get your bag from your dorm. Just ask Sydney or Remi to pack some more clothing for you."
Oh. My God.
"Are you sure? It's not all that far—I could simply just run and be right back!" I muttered nervously.
He waved me off, already pulling on his jacket. "I'm sure. Stay put. I'll be right back."
"Wynter," I spoke, grabbing ahold of his arm, holding his icy gaze.
"Hm?"
"Be careful out there. I'm worried for you," I expressed, which took great courage. "Find shelter nearby if it gets too heavy. Promise me?"
"I— uh, I promise," he nodded.
"Good. Because I'd raise hell in a world without you," I assured him. "Hell."
"I don't doubt it," he chuckled.
I then watched anxiously as he headed out, and for a second, I felt the strange, soft ache that followed whenever he left. It was silly—I'd see him again in like an hour. And yet, as I looked outside at the sky, that tiny ache turned into a dull worry. The rain began moments later, pattering against the window, and then the heavens shattered, unleashing torrents of water and deafening claps of thunder.
Thirty minutes passed. Then forty. Each one stretched long, twisting something inside me. The lightning outside had dropped a few trees—I'd seen it live on CNN. My stomach was doing backflips. I'd called him three times, but his cellphone was here in the apartment. He'd left it in a hurry. I kept glancing at the door, hoping any second now I'd see him walk through. I couldn't help the concern that had started to gnaw at me, a feeling so sharp I clenched my fists to keep from pacing.
Then, finally, the door flew open, and Wynter stumbled in, soaked from head to toe, rain dripping from his hair, his cheeksflushed from the cold. He was holding my bag but looked like he'd waded through a river to get it.
"Wynter!" I ran over to him, heart pounding. "Are you okay?"
He laughed, the sound low and a little breathless. "I'm fine. Just a little… wet."
"I— I can see that." I glanced the length of him up and down, and he tilted my chin up to meet his eyes.
"What was that?" he questioned, his accent thick.
"What was what?" I cleared my throat, turning away.
He started to shiver, and without thinking, I grabbed a towel, standing on my tiptoes to drape it over his shoulders. His gaze followed me as I did, and for a moment, I became unbearably aware of how close we were, the heat rolling off him beneath the cold and damp. I reached up to dry his hair, fingers brushing his forehead, and when I looked at him, I found him staring at me, his chestnut brown eyes locked on mine.
"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
I swallowed, my hand trembling slightly as I kept brushing the towel over his face, lingering on his cheek longer than I meant to. "You shouldn't have gone out there. You didn't have to…"
"I wanted to." He said it so quietly, like it was a secret meant only for me. "And I'd do it again for you if you asked—even if you didn't. It's a reflex. I find myself incapable of not giving you what you desire."
I could feel his breath on my skin, warm and a little uneven, and his fingers came up to brush a stray strand of hair away from my face, his hand lingering at the side of my neck. His bottom lip folded between his pearly whites, and something told me that it had absolutely nothing to do with the weather. The air was hot and heavy between us, like a current I couldn't short-circuit, couldn't look away from. I couldn't help my gaze flickering down to his lips, heart racing as I leaned just the slightest bit closer.
"There's a bit of water here…" I spoke, brushing my thumb over his full, pillowy, and vulnerable pink lips as he looked up at me through thick eyelashes and daring eyebrows.
"Yesoh…" he murmured, his fingers tracing gently over my skin, and I could feel the hesitation there, his breath mingling with mine, our faces inches apart. My whole body ached, filled with an anticipation so strong it felt like it would break me.
Just then, a voice interrupted, sleepy but entirely too awake. "Wynter?"
