“Hey,” I call out quietly, startling her anyway.
“Holy shit!” she cries out, placing her hand to her chest.
“You’re wet.”Fuck, seriously, Ezra?
“So are you.” She lifts a brow, looking a little less miserable than she was a second ago.
“Because I was running here. Come with me.” I nod toward my place. “My shelter is dry.”
She peeks outside—if there’s even an outside forthat—inspects my shelter as if she can see it from here, and then looks back at me.
“Are you inviting me over?” Her voice sounds coy, like there’s a hint of a smile on those pouty lips of hers.
“Are you coming?” I decide to keep my game because I’m starting to feel a thing I haven’t felt for a long time—guilt.
She nods and jumps to her feet. I’m soaking wet, standing under the pouring rain. At least it’s not cold, otherwise it wouldn’t be fun to have pneumonia out here without antibiotics. We both run to my shelter, and I let her get in first. She bends, meeting me with her shorts-clad ass. And I’m stunned for a moment before I gather my wits to follow her inside.
As we pile in, the palm leaves on the ground get wet too.Fuck.So much for a dry place.
With two people, it suddenly seems small. Very small. She’s sitting on her knees, mimicking my pose, and we’re almost touching.
I notice she’s shivering, and I lean to the side of her toward the corner where I folded my suit blazer I use as a blanket. It’s ripped in a few places but still works as intended. I expect her to pull away because there’s not enough space here. She doesn’t. Instead, she stays in the same position while I accidentally brush her arm while retrieving the blazer.
“Take it.” I push it toward her, trying to avoid any further skin contact.
“What?”
“You’ve been sitting there, wet, for who knows how long. We don’t need you to get sick. Change into that.”
“Oh,” she mumbles, looking down at herself. “Right. Can you?—”
“Yeah, sure.” It’s too dark to see much morethan her outline, but I quickly turn around anyway and listen to the sound of sticky clothes being peeled off a wet body.
“I’m done.”
I turn back and find her sitting in the same position I found her—hugging her knees. My blazer is so big on her, she’s able to almost wrap its front around her legs. The wet shirt and shorts lie in a pile by the entrance.
This is the moment when I understand that she has almost nothing under my jacket. Only her skin and the duck on her ass. The silky material of the inside is clinging to her skin just like it was to mine, and I suddenly feel the intimacy of the moment. It’s not the close quarters, even though it doesn’t help the situation, but sharing the only piece of clothing we have left. It’s touched both of our bodies. Our skin.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, bringing me back to the reality of our situation.
All the previous fight has clearly left her voice, and I don’t like it. So I just nod, not knowing how to react to her simple gratitude a moment after I imagined us being one united thing. So fucked up.
“What about you?”
“What about me?” I parrot like an idiot. All my wits are lost.
“You’re wet too. You can get sick, and I took your only dry clothes.”
“I have another shirt.” I look at the ripped mess of a white dress shirt I stashed in the corner because it has more holes in it than put-together material. “It’s fine.” I shrug one shoulder.
“Take it off at least, so you’re not sleeping in wet stuff, you know. Maybe by the time we wake up, it will be sunny, and our clothes will be good to go. It’s usually like that here.Rain, rain, and then boom,” she weakly snaps her fingers, “the hot sun out of nowhere.”
“You’ve been here a lot?”
“When I was a kid.” Her voice sounds sad. “Not so much anymore.”
I nod, once again not knowing what to say. Talking was never one of my strongest traits. That’s why I have my brother. He talks enough for the both of us.
