Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Liv
There’s nothing like a storm. The rain cooling my skin feels like the first time I’ve ever felt it.
It’s cleansing in a way I need, like it’s rinsing off more than just sweat and sleep and the tequila sweats from last night.
Like maybe it can wash off other things, too.
The what-ifs. The way my past clings to me like damp clothes I can’t quite peel off.
I tip my face to the sky and close my eyes, letting it hit me full force.
My hair’s soaked in seconds, sticking to my face, my neck, my chest. I don’t care.
I want it. I want all of it. The chill, the mess, the chaos in the clouds.
The sky isn’t pretending to be anything it’s not, and maybe that’s what I love most. It’s wild and unapologetic.
Uncontained. All things I used to be, used to feel…
Memories of being little with my dad on our porch flood my brain. Conversations and feelings resurface, reminding me that I’m still that same carefree girl I once was. I still want to be the best version of me I can be… but somewhere along the way, maybe it’s all gotten a little lost.
“Liv,” Jay says from behind me, voice barely audible over the rain.
I spin around, laughing as I do, because how could I not? Every nerve in my body is alight with energy.
He’s standing near me, not as drenched as me, but his glasses are dripping down his cheeks, and I’m sure he’s wondering how this became his Tuesday night. There’s water running down the slope of his neck and into the collar of his hoodie, and I don’t even try to look away.
“Come on,” I call, waving him toward me. “You’re already wet. You might as well commit.”
He hesitates for a second longer and then steps closer. The rain grabs him instantly, dragging a sharp breath out of his chest. He exhales; quick and surprised eyes blink through his glasses and the water as he removes them. He doesn’t speak, but I catch the start of a smile.
“See?” I say, eyes gleaming. “Doesn’t it feel good?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but a flash of lightning arcs across the sky above us and thunder claps right after. It’s so close, I feel it in my ribs.
Jay flinches slightly. I don’t.
Instead, I laugh again, full-bodied and loud, spinning around, arms out and head back.
“You’re going to get sick,” Jay says, closer now, and when I face him, he’s right there.
Rain falling from his inky hair, coating his long lashes that are usually hidden behind the glasses, making his skin glisten in the dim streetlights.
His jaw is tight, his lips parted just slightly, and there’s something in his eyes I haven’t seen before.
Maybe my brain can’t be trusted with men anymore, but I think there’s hunger in his gaze.
Not the kind I’ve been burned by in the past. There are layers in his eyes, of curiosity, interest, and heat…
all of which are making my skin prickle the longer he stares. I’m not sure what to do with that.
“It’s just rain,” I whisper.
He huffs a quiet laugh, and it fogs the space between us. He’s so damn close now. I can feel the heat of him, even through the cold.
“You’re so much trouble, Olivia,” he murmurs, his attention briefly flicking to my lips, and I love it when he does that. I’m not sure if he realizes he does, but having his attention, especially on my mouth, makes me feel wanted and sexy.
I swallow, but don’t move. The way he says trouble doesn’t sound like a problem, like it has been for so many before. It sounds like something he’s already made peace with. Probably because he’d be right, trouble and I go hand in hand a lot of the time.
I let my own gaze wander all over his face… and he’s beautiful. I’ve always known he was good-looking, but this is something else. There’s a new look to him out here. A kind of quiet heat that makes it hard to look away. The storm suits him. More than I expected.
I’m suddenly aware of every inch of space between us, aware of the way my heart stutters just slightly, the way the rain feels warmer now despite the cold, and I think for one breathless second that he’s going to close the gap.
There’s something loaded in the way he looks at me, like he’s weighing it, and I think he wants to lean in but knows exactly what would happen if he did, and somehow, that hesitation feels louder than if he’d actually done it.
We just stand there, balanced on that invisible line between familiar and something else entirely.
And then, slowly, whatever was there passes like the storm moving on above us.
He doesn’t move, but I do… because I have to.
I convince myself for the rest of the night that it’s probably for the best. I would’ve only jeopardized everything I’m building here by doing that.
Because if he had kissed me, I don’t think I would’ve stopped. And I don’t trust myself not to want more. Not from him. Not now. Not when I’m still figuring out who I am without someone else’s mess clinging to me.
But god, I wanted him to.