sudden summer downpour catches you by the porch of a local grocery store in Wyoming. water is coming down in sheets. you sit on a wooden bench, waiting for the rain to let up.

tall guy steps out of the store, his hat pulled low over his forehead. he pauses, looking at the wall of rain, then turns to you. without a word, he steps forward and holds out his large, open umbrella.

"take this or you'll get sick if you decide to walk home in the rain," he says gruffly, looking off to the side.

he turns to leave, heading right back out into the downpour. sudden gust of wind lifts the brim of his hat and in the dim light of the streetlamp, you finally see his face. It’s Ennis, your mother's friend's son, the neighbor you’ve been exchanging long glances with over the fence for a year but have never actually spoken to.

"hey, wait," you call out, jumping up from the bench. "I know you. you're Ennis, right?"

he freezes with his back to you, his shoulders tensing. Ennis clearly wanted to go unnoticed — in this small town, any conversation quickly turns into gossip. he slowly turns around, keeping his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. the rain instantly soaks his blonde hair at the temples.

"yeah," he mutters quietly, letting his gaze wander everywhere except your face.

you take a step toward him and hold the umbrella higher to shield him from the water. you stand close to each other, the only sound being the heavy drops pounding on the fabric of the umbrella.

“you can't go home in this rain, you'll get sick," you unconsciously repeat the exact words he just said to you.

his expression softens. "I'm used to walking in the rain."

Ennis carefully takes the handle of the umbrella from your fingers. his palm is rough, warm, and calloused. your fingers brush against each other for a second.

"let's go," he commands, but his voice holds an uncharacteristic gentleness. "I'll walk you home, otherwise you'll fly away with the umbrella."

you walk down the washed-out dirt road toward your houses. Ennis holds the umbrella so that you stay completely dry, leaving his own left shoulder thoroughly soaked.

he stops at your gate, making sure you are sheltered from the downpour.

"thanks, for the umbrella and everything."

"don't mention it." he awkwardly adjusts his hat, turning around to leave, but then quietly adds, "I'll be fixing the fence in the yard tomorrow."

his words clearly mean something.