“Oh yeah?” Your heart decided to accelerate to the point where you felt like you were having physical chest pains. “Well, you can’t just … ” Your breath was puffy, and your was torn. “You can’t just … ” Pained, you pressed the heel of your hand to your chest bone, while using your other hand to clutch your temple. “Oh God … ”

“What?” he demanded. “What’s happening to you?”

“I’m having a moment.”

“You are?” Panic, anger, and confusion all filled his tone. “Holy shit, from what?”

“From you, Gerard,” you groaned, fisting his drenched school shirt in your hand. “From you, because you just hit me with the feels train, okay?”

“The feels train?”

“Yes, the feels train!”

“Well, choo-choo,” he snapped back, tone laced with sarcasm as he pretended to yank on a horn. “Hop a-fucking-board, sweetheart. It’s about time you decided to join me. Considering I’ve been on the same damn feels train for years—”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!”

“Shut up, Gerard!”

“No, I won’t shut up because you’re not the only—”

“I said shut up!” you screamed, clamping a hand over his mouth, eyes locked on his as the rain hammered down on you two. “Shut up, Gerard Gibson. Just shut the hell up already!”

One moment you were glaring, and screaming, and shoving at each other and the next you were kissing.

Tearing his lips away from yours, Gerard pushed his hair off his forehead, breathless and panting. “Fuck.”

“No.” Feeling panicked that he was going to slam on the brakes again, you fisted his shirt and pulled him back to you. “Don’t stop.”

“I don’t want to,” he replied in a gruff tone, hands moving to rest on your hip. “Trust me. But you’re going to get sick out here.”

“I don’t care,” you croaked out, feeling like you would die right here on this mortal spot if he didn’t kiss you again.

His gray eyes blazed with heat when he said, “Yeah, well, I do.”