“No?” His tone is laced with meaning.
“No,” I say in a hoarse whisper.
He watches me as I fidget with the drawstrings hanging from the hood of his sweatshirt I’m wearing.
“These are the best kind of dryers,” I say finally. “They evenly dry clothing and use less energy as well.”
I look back at my clothes nervously. They seem secure behind all that glass and metal, just spinning around and around and actually getting somewhere at the end of it all.
“Let’s go sit down.” Brayden jumps off the table and touches my back lightly.
* * *
While the flames flicker inside the stove, Brayden and I drink hot chocolate on his enclosed porch. Phillip and I never eat sweets, and I’m getting a sugar high. I start giggling and look outside at the rain still pelting down.
“You’re my lucky break, Brayden Wild.” Apparently sugar makes me say things that would normally never come out of my mouth. “Taking me out of the storm and onto the warmth of your porch. Thank you.”
Brayden grins. “I’m lucky your sister runs Big Sky Grocer and that you really like granola, or I might not have run into you again. It’s been a long time, Leleila.”
“It has.” My voice cracks, and I turn toward the window as a large gust of wind shakes the trees outside, and a cascade of orange and yellow leaves falls to the ground.
“Why do the leaves change in autumn?” Brayden says hastily, and I know he’s trying to change the subject to something more neutral.
“Not enough light or warmth in winter for photosynthesis,” I say automatically. “The trees rest and shut down their ability to make food, so the green chlorophyll disappears from the leaves. They end up orange and red and yellow. Small amounts of these colors are always in the leaves, but you just can’t see them because of the chlorophyll.”
His eyes search mine. “You’re smart. I guess I meant more like—why do they have to fall?”
I think about it as the leaves swirl around in the wind. “I don’t know,” I say finally. “I guess sometimes things have to end in order for life to continue. So the leaves die, but the tree lives on for another season. Trees are amazing.”
We lapse into a comfortable silence, sitting side by side with our hands wrapped around our mugs of hot chocolate. I point excitedly out the window when two deer stop underneath the largest tree in Brayden’s backyard. The brown coat of the deer is an even deeper shade from the rain on their backs, and I can see their dark eyes from here.
Brayden smiles at my enthusiasm. “They stop by sometimes. I get a lot of wildlife here, and I’m away from the cattle fields, so there’s a lot more open space.”
I’d love to sit here all day and paint. I’ve always loved nature. Mom and Dad got me involved in environmental biology, but I can’t remember the last time I just sat and actually enjoyed the environment.
But that’s what I do with Brayden today. For the next hour and a half, we sit and do a lot of nothing. We watch the deer before they run off into the woods. We try to count the leaves falling but give up quickly. And we laugh a lot. We laugh about the strange noises coming out of his wood stove and about our dance teacher’s admonishment to practice dancing.
“I’ll be lucky if I remember any of the steps,” I say. “I’m getting married twenty-four days from now, and I don’t know if a choreographed dance is possible. Besides the fact that I have to teach it to Phillip.”
“Twenty-four days to learn a dance? That’s definitely possible.”
“You’re right,” I say, feeling optimistic. “For some species, that’s a lifetime. For others, it’s several lifetimes.”
“You’re still smart.” The cool blue of his eyes turns hot as he meets my gaze with his own. “People probably tell you that all the time.”
“Not really,” I say honestly. “I’m surrounded by geniuses.”
* * *
When neither Phillip nor Sophia have texted me after cup two of our hot chocolates, Brayden lies down on his rug in front of the wood stove. “It’s relaxing. And you can hear the rain in a really cool way from here,” he says.
I get down on my back next to him on his dark green shag rug and feel the warmth of the fire at my feet. “Now what?”
“Just close your eyes.” His low voice is soothing. “The rain sounds like it’s all around you instead of just over your head.”
I close my eyes and try to relax. I’m jazzed from the chocolate and from the company so close to me right now, but I do hear the rain. Itiscool.
“That’s neat,” I say. “Almost like being in a waterfall without getting wet.”
