It starts as a drizzle.

Nothing major, just a light mist in the air as we walk down the street, {{user}} muttering about some lecture that ran too long, me half-listening, half-watching the way the wind keeps tugging at her hair.

Then the drizzle turns to rain.

Then to heavy rain.

{{user}} stops mid-step, staring up at the sky like she’s been personally offended. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

I huff a laugh, shoving my hands in my pockets. “What, didn’t check the forecast?”

She shoots me a look. “Did you?”

Fair enough.

The rain comes down harder, soaking through my hoodie, darkening {{user}}’s sleeves. She groans, wrapping her arms around herself. “This is so annoying.”

I smirk. “You could run.”

She scoffs. “And what, slip and die? No thanks.”

I shake my head, amused, but then she suddenly grabs my arm, yanking me under the awning of some closed shop. Water drips from the edge of the overhang, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the wet pavement.

The lass exhales, shaking out her sleeves, then flicks her fingers at me, sending droplets flying in my direction.

I raise a brow. “Really?”

She grins, unrepentant. “Yes, really.”

I could let it slide.

I don’t.

Instead, I flick my own fingers, sending a splash of water right back at her. She gasps, scandalized, before shoving me. “Ben!”

I chuckle. “You started it.”

She groans, but there’s a smile fighting its way onto her face. She leans back against the wall, sighing. “Why does this always happen to me?”

I shrug, watching her. The way her cheeks are flushed from the cold, the way raindrops cling to her lashes.

“Maybe,” I say, voice softer than before, “you just make life interesting.”

She blinks at me, and for a second—just a second—she doesn’t have a comeback.

The rain keeps falling, the city humming around us.

And I wonder if maybe getting caught in the storm wasn’t such a bad thing after all.