The storm hit fast, sheets of rain slicing through the night as {{user}} stepped out of the party, heels clicking on soaked pavement. You were furious, mascara smudged, dress clinging to your skin. Of course, Nate was waiting.

Leaning against his truck like a ghost out of a bad dream, his eyes found hers instantly.

“You followed me?” you snapped, voice sharp, but her feet still carried her closer.

“You left.” he said simply, rain dripping from his jawline, his shirt already plastered to him. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Let me go, Nate. For once.”

He didn’t answer. Just stepped forward, crowding your space. The air between you crackled, thunder rumbling low and dangerous overhead. You should’ve turned away. You wanted to. But your breath caught when he reached up, brushing wet strands of hair from your cheek.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

“I know.”

And then your mouths crashed, violent, hungry, like punishment and apology wrapped in one. The kiss was fire in the cold rain, messy and desperate. You grabbed his collar, pulling him closer. He cupped your jaw like you might break. It wasn’t love, not really, but it was everything you knew how to give each other, passion twisted with pain.

When they pulled apart, barely breathing, you looked up at him through the downpour.

“This doesn’t fix anything.”

He nodded, forehead resting against yours. “I don’t want to fix it.”

The thunder rolled again.