Chapter 2
“Pick up, pick up, pick up…”
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times, and I was about two seconds away from throwing my phone out the window and into the cornfield stretching endlessly on both sides of this dark ass road.
Four rings.
“Come on, Kade, I swear to God…”
Five rings.
I pressed my forehead to the steering wheel and the scent of something burning hit me.
“Yo.” Kade’s voice came through the speaker, smooth and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. Relief hit me so hard I could’ve cried.
“Oh, thank God. Kade, I need you to…”
“I ain’t available right now, so…”
“Are you kidding me right now?” I shouted at his voicemail, which was rude as hell considering I needed him, but also, fuck his life.
“Kade, my fucking car died. Like, fully died this time. I’m in the middle of nowhere heading to the cabin, and I’m pretty sure I just saw a fucking scarecrow move.
So if you could call me back before I become a horror movie statistic, that would be great. ”
I hung up and watched fat raindrops splatter against the windshield. Of course, it was going to rain. Why have car trouble on a sunny day? Instead: gray clouds, the smell of burning car parts, and a phone at 12% battery.
I tried calling Kade again.
One ring. Two rings. Three…
“Storm, what’s good?”
“What’s good? What’s good?!" I could hear the edge of hysteria creeping into my voice, but I was beyond caring. “My car is dead, Kade. Dead dead. I’m on Route 47, somewhere between civilization and that creepy gas station with raccoons for pets, and it just started raining!”
There was a pause, and I could practically see him: packing last-minute shit in his duffle bag with that infuriatingly calm expression on his face. He was probably wearing a pair of gray joggers that should’ve been illegal. Not that I noticed shit like that…
“A’ight, calm down. You hurt?”
The genuine concern in Kade’s voice made something warm unfurl in my chest, which was annoying because I was trying to be mad at him for not answering the first time. “No, I’m fine. Just stranded and quickly losing my mind.”
“Your ass never got AAA.”
“Kade, please… not now!”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know, I’m not a mechanic. It started making this weird noise, then there was smoke, then it just... stopped. Like it gave up on life.”
“Smoke from where?”
“The front? The hood? I don’t know... the part where the engine lives!” He laughed, low and quiet, making my stomach flip.
Six years of late-night food runs, playlists, and Kade talking me out of bad decisions. Six years of knowing his Chipotle order and which jokes would make him smile. Six years pretending not to notice his large hands, his voice late at night, or that he was probably the finest man I’d ever met.
Kade kept judging me about AAA, just like he always did.
As I stared out into the cornfields, memory blindsided me, dragging me back to when we first met: moving into my first apartment.
I was struggling up the stairs with two overstuffed grocery bags in one hand and a box marked kitchen shit in the other–real professional labeling, I know–when I nearly collided with him coming down.
“Whoa, shit! I’m sor–”
He was tall, so I had to look up at him as we almost collided.
Instead of feeling nervous, I thought about dropping my groceries all over the stairwell.
He had deep brown skin, big, brown eyes, a sharp jaw, a scar above his left eyebrow, tattoos, and wore a black tee and jeans.
Fresh from the shower smelling like soap and cologne.
I snapped out of it when his deep voice cut in.
“Yo, let me grab that,” he said, not asking, just taking the box from my hands. I noticed that even parts of his hand had tattoos.
“Oh, I got it. Just…” I started, but he was already looking at the bags hanging from my arm with an expression that said he thought I was fucking insane.
“Nah, I gotchu. Which floor?”
“Seriously, I can carry–”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I just know I’m not about to watch a woman struggle.”
There was no argument to make, so I let him. I handed over the bags and followed him up to the third floor, where my apartment was still half-empty and smelled like cardboard and fresh paint.
“This you?” he asked, nodding at the open door.
“Yeah. Just moved in yesterday.”
He stepped inside and set everything on the island in the kitchen, taking in the chaos with an expression that was trying really hard not to be judgmental. “Storm?” he said, looking at the box.
“That’s me. Stormie, actually.”
He repeated, testing my name, “Stormie.” There was something interesting in the way he said it. “I’m Kade. I’m in 3B.”
“Oh, so you’re my neighbor. Cool.”
“Yeah. Saw you dragging boxes upstairs. Thought you might need a hand.”
I stood there, arms crossed, studying him. He was hard not to stare at, and he wore a slight smirk like he knew. I cleared my throat and said, “Well, thanks. I, uh… have more boxes in my car if you want to…”
“Yeah, I gotchu.”
Kade helped me haul my boxes upstairs and we slipped into an easy rhythm. By the end, he knew I’d just graduated from college, was from two states over, and had driven my Honda for twelve hours on junk food.
I knew he was a certified personal trainer, had lived in the building for a couple of years, and was good with his hands.
I learned he had a sense of humor that made me laugh, even when I was exhausted.
By the time we were finished, he was leaning against my kitchen counter like he belonged there, and I was making him a Remy and Coke in my college mug as a thank you.
“You good here?” he asked, and there was something in the way he said it that made it sound like he was asking about more than just whether I was settled in my apartment.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I appreciate you.”
He nodded, sipping his drink and glancing at my new apartment—half-unpacked and cluttered. My parents had wanted me to move years ago, but I stayed for college. Now, finally, I was here.
“Well, if you need anything, just knock,” Kade said, breaking into my thoughts as he pushed off the counter.
“Wait... the mug?”
He stopped and turned back with a smirk. “I got you,” he said. “I ain’t into keeping anything that’s not mine.” Our eyes met for a second before he winked. “Later, Storm.”
I leaned against the counter after he left, staring at the closed door, my heart doing something weird in my chest. The way he’d said my name–Storm, not Stormie–like he’d already decided what he was going to call me.
That was the very beginning. Then, just as quickly, I snapped back to the present–the rain, the dead car, Kade’s voice on the other end of the phone.
“Kade, just…” I exhaled deeply into the phone. “Please... hurry up.”
“A’ight, send me your location. I’ll be there in thirty.”
“It’s starting to rain harder.”
“Then I’ll be there in twenty.”
I heard him moving around, keys jingling. Rain drummed on my car–almost soothing if I wasn’t stranded. “Thank you,” I said, softer. “Sorry for yelling.”
“You ain’t gotta apologize. That’s what I’m here for.” That warmth in my chest grew–definitely gratitude, not more. Not the way his voice wrapped around me, or how he always dropped everything for me.
“Were you about to leave the house anyway?” I asked, pulling up my location to send to him.
“Yeah, pretty much. Just got out the shower and shit. You good to sit tight for a minute?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just me and the scarecrow.”
“Aye, you really saw a scarecrow move?”
“No, but the vibes out here are definitely ‘children of the corn’ meets ‘wrong turn,’ so I’m not ruling anything out.”
He laughed again, and I found myself smiling despite everything. This was us–easy, comfortable, the kind of friendship that felt like home. Even when my car was dead, and the rain was turning into a full-on downpour.
“Stay in the car and keep the doors locked. I’m leaving now.”
“Kade?”
“Wassup?”
I hesitated, watching the rain blur the world outside my windows. “Drive safe, okay?”
There was a moment of silence. Maybe I imagined the shift in the air between us. Maybe I’d been imagining a lot lately–the way his eyes lingered, the careful distance, those moments that felt like more than friendship but never crossed the line.
“Always do,” Kade said finally, his voice doing that thing where it got a little lower, a little rougher. “I’ll be there soon, Storm.”
He hung up, and I sat there in my dead car, watching the rain come down in sheets, trying not to think about the fact that I was about to spend the next twenty to thirty minutes alone with my thoughts. Dangerous territory.
Because the truth was, somewhere between parties and late-night conversations, between shared secrets and comfortable silences, Kade had stopped being just my best friend.
He’d become the person I thought about first thing in the morning and the last thing at night.
The one whose opinion mattered most, whose presence made everything better, whose smile could ruin my entire day in the best possible way.
But we were friends. Best friends. Our friend group meshed well, and our parents hung out often. We were… us. And that was too important to risk over some inconvenient feelings that I’d gotten very good at ignoring.
The rain pounded harder against the roof, and I pulled my knees up to my chest, watching the road for headlights.
Twenty to thirty minutes. I could do that.
What I wasn’t sure I could handle was the weekend we’d planned.
It was going to be just the two of us at his family’s cabin–hanging out, cooking, watching movies, and vibing.
With Kade’s birthday around the corner, this was how he wanted to bring it in.
It was supposed to be fun, and now this storm was looking more serious by the second.
But I’d worry about that later. I just needed him to get here.
And I definitely wasn’t thinking about how good he’d look soaking wet from the rain. Definitely not.