Outside, the air hits us like a slap. The wind is cold, wet, and charged. The rain threatens to soak through my hoodie in seconds. But Liv doesn’t falter once.
She steps into the storm like she belongs to it, head tipped back, arms wide, letting it wash over her. Her hair clings to her cheeks in dark, wet strands. Her shirt is already plastered to her skin. Her eyes are shut, mouth open in a grin that’s somehow brighter than the lightning that cracks overhead a second later.
And then she laughs, bright and breathless, reckless and full, and I swear it’s louder than the storm.
I stop on the steps and just watch her. Even though I know she wanted me to watch the storm, I can’t tear my eyes from her. There’s an air of magic about her tonight. A shimmer beneath the surface. A little wisp ofsomethingthat seems to cling to her skin as she looks up to the sky, like the storm called her name and she’s answering.
She’s scanning the clouds with this restless sort of energy, waiting for something only she can see. Something that might arrive on the next thunderclap. Her eyes dart around with everyrumble, completely undeterred by the rain soaking every inch of her.
It’s not just that shelovesthe storm. It’s that she looks like shebelongsto it.
Like she’s made of the same volatile, electric stuff.
And I don’t know if she even realizes it, but watching her like this, where she’s lit by lightning, wind whipping around her like it wants to take her with it—it makes something shift deep in my chest.
It’s the first time I realize that maybe all the boldness, the flirting, the noise… it’s not a mask. It’s just her. She can be both, loud and soft. Lightning and stillness. All of it a juxtaposing storm that is her.
And maybe I’ve only been seeing half the picture.
Until now.
She isn’t just the bold, loud girl who crashed into my life with chaos. She’s also the one who holds onto memories like they’re anchors. Who believes storms are sky giants playing above us. Who laughs like it might be the last time. Who dares the sky to come at her and always stands tall.
She turns to me, water dripping off her nose, lips parted. “Worth it, right?” she calls, breath fogging the air between us.
And yeah. It is.
Chapter seventeen
Liv
There’snothinglikeastorm. The rain cooling my skin feels like the first time I’ve ever felt it. It’s cleansing in a way I need, like it’s rinsing off more than just sweat and sleep and the tequila sweats from last night. Like maybe it can wash off other things, too. The what-ifs. The way my past clings to me like damp clothes I can’t quite peel off.
I tip my face to the sky and close my eyes, letting it hit me full force.
My hair’s soaked in seconds, sticking to my face, my neck, my chest. I don’t care. I want it. I want all of it. The chill, the mess, the chaos in the clouds. The sky isn’t pretending to be anything it’s not, and maybe that’s what I love most. It’s wild and unapologetic. Uncontained. All things I used to be, used to feel…
Memories of being little with my dad on our porch flood my brain. Conversations and feelings resurface, reminding me that I’m still that same carefree girl I once was. I still want to be the best version of me I can be… but somewhere along the way, maybe it’s all gotten a little lost.
“Liv,” Jay says from behind me, voice barely audible over the rain.
I spin around, laughing as I do, because how could I not? Every nerve in my body is alight with energy.
He’s standing near me, not as drenched as me, but his glasses are dripping down his cheeks, and I’m sure he’s wondering how this became his Tuesday night. There’s water running down the slope of his neck and into the collar of his hoodie, and I don’t even try to look away.
“Come on,” I call, waving him toward me. “You’re already wet. You might as well commit.”
He hesitates for a second longer and then steps closer. The rain grabs him instantly, dragging a sharp breath out of his chest. He exhales; quick and surprised eyes blink through his glasses and the water as he removes them. He doesn’t speak, but I catch the start of a smile.
“See?” I say, eyes gleaming. “Doesn’t it feel good?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but a flash of lightning arcs across the sky above us and thunder claps right after. It’s so close, I feel it in my ribs.
Jay flinches slightly. I don’t.
Instead, I laugh again, full-bodied and loud, spinning around, arms out and head back.
“You’re going to get sick,” Jay says, closer now, and when I face him, he’s right there. Rain falling from his inky hair, coating his long lashes that are usually hidden behind the glasses, making his skin glisten in the dim streetlights. His jaw is tight, his lips parted just slightly, and there’s something in his eyes I haven’t seen before. Maybe my brain can’t be trusted with men anymore, but I think there’s hunger in his gaze. Not the kind I’ve been burned by in the past. There are layers in his eyes, of curiosity, interest,andheat… all of which are making my skin prickle the longer he stares. I’m not sure what to do with that.
