And in that instant, we’re the only two people in the world. No thunder, no headlights from the street, no storm—just us, tangled together in a kiss that feels like both a beginning and a promise.
Heat and adrenaline. Longing and relief. Her taste, sweet and real.
When I finally pull back, I’m gasping, forehead pressed to hers, water dripping between us. She’s just as breathless, lips parted, eyes shining like she can’t believe this either.
And all I can think is: I’ll spend the rest of my life chasing this feeling if she’ll let me.
The storm begins to lighten, the rain softening into mist. She looks up at me, blinking, her eyes impossibly blue.
And that smile, the one that tugs at the corner of her mouth, it eases every doubt I didn’t know I had.
Then, without warning, a car flies by, hitting a puddle just right.
A tidal wave of freezing water drenches us both.
“Oh my Godsh-shhh!” Ivy yells, half laughing, half squealing.
“Godsh-shhh?” I ask, grinning.
“I was going to say oh my God, but then I remembered what I read on the Bible app the other day…about how, once you’re a Christian, you kind of just want to stop doing things that don’t please Him. Like saying His name in vain. It just slipped out, but then I caught it, and…”
She’s rambling. And it’s adorable.
I can’t stop smiling. I stare down at her, proud, amused, and something else I can’t quite name.
Man. This girl. Lord, thank You for putting her in my life.
I brush another strand of hair from her cheek, my thumb grazing the edge of her jaw.
“Ivy,” I say quietly, “you almost just got hit by a car.”
“Gray,” she breathes, “you finally kissed me.”
We both start laughing, standing in the middle of the street, soaked, shivering, and somehow completely warm.
We get back to my apartment, soaked to the bone, rain still dripping from our hair and clothes.
But honestly? That’s the least of my problems.
I kissed Ivy. Finally.
I close the door behind us, the sound echoing in the quiet room. We just stand there, staring at each other, water pooling on the floor beneath us.
“I, um…” Ivy starts, glancing down at her soaking wet clothes.
“You can shower and borrow some of my clothes if you’d like,” I say before I can think better of it.
Her eyebrows lift. “Oh, um…”
Right. That might’ve sounded, not great. Like now that I’ve kissed her, I’m suggesting she undress in my apartment. That’s not what I meant.
“I can take you home instead,” I add quickly, trying to reassure her. “If you’d be more comfortable.”
But she just smiles, small and sincere. “I was kind oflooking forward to our movie night. I mean, we did survive a natural disaster for those snacks.” She gestures toward the bag still clutched in my hand. “You don’t mind if I borrow something dry?”
“No, Ivy. I don’t mind.”
She follows me into my room, and I dig out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from my drawer. Nothing fancy. Nothing remotely girly.
