The first knock was nearly drowned out by the rain pounding against the windows. By the third, there was no ignoring it. You opened the door to find Tara, hair plastered to her face, mascara streaked slightly, drenched like she’d just fallen into a river.

Her eyes went wide when she saw you. “Uh… hi.”

Before you could even respond, she stepped inside without waiting, shivering violently. “I—I’m soaked. Like, every fiber of me is soaked. I might die.”

You just nodded, already moving toward towels, because words were unnecessary. She followed, water dripping onto the floor, leaving a trail.

She flopped onto the couch, wrapped in one of the towels you tossed her. “Okay, plan. Shower. ASAP. Clothes? I have… wet things. All wet. Help me.”

You pointed toward the bathroom, and she practically bolted. The sound of the water turning on was almost immediate.

A few minutes later, Tara emerged, towel dry, hair damp but no longer clinging. She held up a pair of your sweatpants in one hand and a long T-shirt in the other, eyes flicking nervously to you. “Um… I can’t really… nothing fits me, obviously, but… I think I can make this work?”

You only shrugged, and she blinked at you, cheeks coloring. “Okay… here goes nothing.”

She disappeared into your bedroom for a moment, then came out in your oversized T-shirt and the sweatpants pulled up to her waist. The clothes hung on her, soft and baggy, sleeves past her hands. She tugged at the hem nervously, then smiled sheepishly. “Okay… I look… ridiculous, right?”

You didn’t answer, just watched. She made a small face, stepping closer, almost as if seeking approval. The wet rain had soaked her through, but the oversized clothes softened the edges—she looked vulnerable, warm, human, and somehow… impossibly cute.

Tara tugged at the T-shirt again, brushing hair out of her eyes. “I… I guess this is fine? Right? I didn’t ruin your stuff?”

You still didn’t speak, and she huffed, a little frustrated, a little shy. “Fine, fine. I’ll take that as a yes.”

She flopped back onto the couch, curling into herself, oversized sleeves covering her hands. Every so often, she peeked up at you, silent but wide-eyed, like she wanted to say something else but couldn’t find the courage.

The rain outside continued to hammer the windows, but inside, everything felt warmer, softer, like the storm had somehow melted away the space between you. Tara stayed curled up, shy, awkward, endearing—your accidental guest, drenched and human, and somehow, completely captivating.