Chapter 17 - Rain Scene
It started with a normal errand.
That was the ridiculous part.
Ginny had texted Jayna:
Need help choosing lighting for a rooftop setup. Your muscles are useful.
Jayna replied:
Using me for labor again? Rude. I’ll be there in 10.
Now they were walking back from the supplier warehouse, arms full of sample bulbs and metal fixtures, the sky above them suspiciously gray.
“You said it wasn’t going to rain,” Jayna said.
“I said it looked like it wouldn’t.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Ginny adjusted the box in her hands. “You’re the one who works with athletes. I assumed you had weather instincts.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It should be.”
Thunder rumbled.
They both stopped walking.
Jayna looked up.
Ginny looked up.
A single drop hit Ginny’s cheek.
Jayna grinned.
“Oh no.”
The sky opened.
---
“Run!” Ginny shrieked.
They bolted down the sidewalk, laughing immediately despite themselves.
The rain wasn’t gentle.
It poured.
Within seconds, Ginny’s blouse clung to her skin, hair sticking to her face. Jayna’s fitted tee darkened, outlining muscle and warmth and everything Ginny did not need to be noticing.
“You and your stupid lighting samples!” Jayna called over the rain.
“You offered to carry them!”
“Because you looked dramatic!”
They ran the last stretch toward Jayna’s apartment building, shoes slapping against pavement, both breathless and soaked.
By the time they burst through the lobby doors, they were laughing uncontrollably.
Ginny bent over slightly, trying to catch her breath.
“You look like a drowned cat,” Jayna said.
“You look worse,” Ginny shot back.
Jayna stepped closer.
Too close.
“You’re shivering.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Ginny hated that Jayna noticed everything.
---
Inside Jayna’s apartment, the world felt smaller.
Quieter.
The rain hammered against the windows.
Jayna locked the door behind them.
“Okay,” she said, practical tone kicking in. “You’re changing.”
Ginny blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’re soaked. You’ll get sick.”
“So will you.”
“I live here. I have towels.”
Ginny crossed her arms. “And what am I supposed to wear?”
Jayna paused.
Then casually said, “You can borrow something.”
Ginny’s stomach flipped.
Danger.
---
Jayna disappeared into her bedroom and returned with a loose gray shirt and sweatpants.
“Bathroom’s there,” she said, pointing.
Ginny took the clothes carefully.
Their fingers brushed.
Static.
Neither of them moved immediately.
The rain filled the silence.
Jayna cleared her throat first. “Go. Before you flood my floor.”
Ginny rolled her eyes and escaped into the bathroom.
---
When she stepped out ten minutes later, wearing Jayna’s clothes, something shifted in the air.
The shirt was slightly oversized.
The sweatpants sat low on her hips.
She felt… intimate.
Like she’d crossed into a space that wasn’t performance anymore.
Jayna was standing near the kitchen island, towel draped around her neck, hair damp and messy.
She looked up.
And froze.
Ginny’s pulse jumped.
“What?” she asked defensively.
“Nothing.”
“That didn’t sound like nothing.”
Jayna swallowed.
“It’s weird seeing you in my clothes.”
Ginny tried to ignore how warm that made her feel.
“Well,” she said lightly, “you’ve seen me pretend to be your fiancée in front of fifty people. This is mild.”
Jayna’s expression changed.
Less amused now.
More aware.
---
“Your hair’s still dripping,” Jayna said quietly.
Before Ginny could respond, Jayna stepped forward.
Towel in hand.
Gentle fingers lifting strands of Ginny’s damp hair.
Drying carefully.
Intentionally.
Ginny’s breath caught.
This was not necessary.
She could do this herself.
But she didn’t step away.
Jayna’s movements slowed.
Her hand brushing the side of Ginny’s neck as she adjusted the towel.
The contact lingered a second too long.
The air thickened.
Ginny could feel Jayna’s breath now.
Close.
Warm.
“Hold still,” Jayna murmured.
Ginny wasn’t moving.
She couldn’t.
Her heart was beating too loudly.
Jayna’s fingers slid lower, grazing the edge of Ginny’s collarbone where the shirt dipped slightly.
It was innocent.
Technically.
But neither of them felt innocent.
The rain outside grew heavier.
Inside, everything went quiet.
---
“You’re staring,” Ginny whispered.
Jayna didn’t deny it.
“You’re wearing my clothes.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
Jayna’s hand slowly lowered, but didn’t leave her.
“It feels domestic,” she admitted.
The word landed softly.
Domestic.
Like this wasn’t temporary.
Like this wasn’t a lie.
Ginny’s throat tightened.
“Jayna…”
“Are we still pretending?” Jayna asked suddenly.
Not teasing.
Not joking.
Ginny’s breath stuttered.
The question echoed from the balcony days ago.
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she focused on the feeling of Jayna’s fingers still lightly resting at her waist.
Too familiar.
Too easy.
Jayna’s thumb flexed unconsciously against her side.
And that—
That was the problem.
Because it didn’t feel staged.
It felt wanted.
Ginny looked up slowly.
Their faces were inches apart.
Rain. Heat. Borrowed clothes.
No script.
No audience.
Just them.
Jayna’s gaze dropped to her lips.
Ginny’s heart pounded.
She could close the distance.
She wanted to.
But fear crept in again.
What happens after?
The reunion was over.
There was no excuse anymore.
If they kissed now—
It would mean something.
Ginny inhaled shakily.
Jayna waited.
Patient.
Steady.
Like she was giving Ginny the choice.
And that somehow made it harder.
The rain softened gradually.
The moment stretched unbearably thin.
Then Ginny stepped back.
Just barely.
Jayna’s hand fell away.
Not angry.
Just… careful.
“I should go before the roads flood,” Ginny said quietly.
Jayna’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to go.”
Ginny’s chest tightened. She wanted to protest. She wanted to run. But the warmth of Jayna’s hand lingering on her waist, the quiet safety of the apartment, the storm outside… it all made leaving impossible.
“I… don’t want to go,” Ginny admitted, almost to herself.
Jayna’s lips curved slightly. “Then stay.”
Ginny swallowed. The choice felt dangerous. Terrifying. And… right.
“Okay,” she said finally, stepping fully inside. The door closed behind her, cutting off the last of the rain.
The storm rumbled outside, but inside Jayna’s apartment, the world narrowed to just the two of them. The tension, the stolen touches, the borrowed clothes—they lingered in the air, heavy, undeniable.
Ginny knew one thing with absolute certainty: she wasn’t leaving tonight.
And that decision set the stage for what they would confront in the quiet darkness ahead.