“Shut up, Zayn,” I snap, glaring at him. “My boyfriend is missing, and he could be hurt or worse! What if he’s dead?”
“Alright, alright, sorry,” Zayn sighs, raising his hands in surrender. “You’re probably right; he’s probably in some serial killer’s basement stuffed in a chest freezer.”
“Zayn!” I gasp, horrified by his crude joke. “That’s not funny! Now either help or leave me be!”
“Fine, I’ll help you,” he says. “Though I find it a little strange being the current boyfriend, looking for your ex-boyfriend. Strange times, can’t say I ever predicted this,” he mutters.
“I am not your girlfriend.”
“Keep telling yourself that, it’s cute when you’re in denial.”
“I am not in denial.”
“That’s why you kissed me back,” he tells me, sticking another sign on a pole.
“I kissed you back because you sired my wolf!” I whisper the last part not wanting anyone to overhear.
“So what, it doesn’t change anything.” This man is impossible.
Together, we put up the missing posters all around the city. The weight of my conflicted emotions and the fear for Deacon’s safety threaten to crush me, yet I can’t allow myself to break down now. I need to be strong for Deacon, and for myself.
As the day wears on, Zayn remains by my side, his teasing replaced by quiet. In those moments, I appreciate him for putting up with me for the past week. Moving to the next street we place the last sign, and we are about to head back to the car when I hear the first crack of thunder. Glancing at Zayn, he smirks. “Told ya,” he chuckles. And I stare up at the sky. Where did the sun go?
The downpour starts seemingly out of nowhere, drenching us in seconds. I shiver as the cold rain pelts my skin and soaks through my clothing. Zayn and I exchange a glance before hurriedly searching for somewhere to wait it out, knowing it’s a good twenty-minute trek back to the car.
“Over there!” I shout over the sound of the rain, pointing to an old library across the street. We sprint toward it.
Rain pours mercilessly from the dark, overcast sky as Zayn and I dash across the street. Cold raindrops splatter against my face, causing shivers to race through me. We reach the old library, its heavy wooden doors offering warmth from the downpour. The distinct smell of dust and aging books fills my nostrils. The sudden change in environment is jarring, but it offers us a temporary refuge from the storm outside. The sound of rain pouring on the library’s roof creates a soothing ambiance. I’ve always loved the sound of the rain, though the thunder can kindly leave.
“Damn,” Zayn mutters, shaking his head and sending droplets of water flying from his hair. “We’re soaked.”
“Tell me about it,” I reply, attempting to wring out my shirt to no avail.“Well, I guess we will wait here until it passes.”
“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his damp hair. “You’re right. Let’s find a quiet corner.”
We settle into an empty aisle between towering bookshelves, the dim lighting casting shadows across the space. Zayn shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders, histouch igniting a spark within me I struggle to suppress, despite the outside being soaked, the inside is dry and warm.
“Better?” he asks, laying on his back.
“Thanks,” I whisper, pulling the jacket tighter around me.
“Of course,” he says softly, his gray eyes dark and intense as they lock onto mine. For a moment, I allow myself to get lost in them, wondering what it would be like to be this intimidating man’s girlfriend.
He sits up and moves closer, his wet clothes clinging to his muscular frame. I let my gaze linger on his broad shoulders and strong arms before meeting his stormy gray eyes. Their intensity draws me in like a moth to a flame.
After a while, I can’t stand his intense gaze, so I get up and wander through the towering bookshelves. The sound of rain pouring on the library’s roof and the windowpanes seems to calm my rattled nerves. I might as well get ahead on my reading list if I am going to be stuck here.
“Hey,” Zayn calls, drawing my attention from the book I’ve been scanning for my college reading list. “Of all the things you could read, you’re reading that?” he chuckles.
“It’s for school,” I tell him, looking over the back of the book making sure it’s the right volume.
“Why medicine?” he asks abruptly.
I glance back at him, startled by the sudden curiosity in his voice. “I want to help people,” I reply, tucking a damp strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ve always wanted to work in either the children’s hospital or the emergency department.”
“Those are pretty different areas,” he notes, stepping closer as he peruses the shelves alongside me. “Why those two areas?”
“I like children,” I admit. “And as for emergency... When my mother died, all I remember is feeling like there weren’tenough people to cater to all the injured. Maybe if they hadn’t been so understaffed, they could have saved her.” I shrug.
