Rain stitched threads through the alley, turning the world into a blurry watercolor of neon and shadow. He studied her for a second like she was a puzzle missing half its pieces. "Ouch," he said with a grin, tapping ash to the side, careful not to step out from under the small slice of shelter. "I thought we were giving each other health warnings?" A corner of his mouth lifted. "Fair."
The rain picked up, heavier now, drumming on metal, pavement, the lid of the dumpster beside him. Somewhere down the street, laughter spilled out of the bar. It was bright and careless, like it belonged to a different universe entirely. She didn't move. "You're not going after your friends?" he asked. Most people ran from rain like it was an inconvenience. She stood in it like it was a choice. Both of them glanced toward the bar where the other two had disappeared. "Friends," she repeated, a smirk forming. "They'll survive without me." Then she looked back at him and shrugged. He exhaled a soft laugh through his nose. Silence settled between them, but not the awkward kind. More like a pause in a song where you know something interesting is about to happen. The cigarette burned lower between his fingers. "You're hiding," she said suddenly, not a question. He glanced at the shadow he'd stepped out of, then back at her. "Taking a break." "From?" He hesitated, like the word itself was expensive. "People." It didn't look like she knew who he was. Or maybe she just didn't care. "Yeah. I get it." She nodded once, like that made perfect sense. The rain softened slightly, like it was catching its breath. "You?" he asked. "You look like you walked out of a boardroom and into the wrong genre." She looked down at her oversized blazer, now clinging to her arms, the sharp lines softened by water. Then back up, a small smirk forming. "Maybe I like wrong genres." He smiled properly this time. Not big, but real. "I'm not saying it doesn't look good." A car passed, headlights slicing through the alley, capturing them like a snapshot. The soaked girl in black, the guy with a cigarette and tired eyes, both caught in a moment that didn't quite belong anywhere else. The tires hit a puddle and water surged toward them. He reacted instantly by reaching out, grabbing her hand, pulling her closer just before the splash could hit her. Not that it made much difference. She was already soaked. But now he saw her properly. Up close. Their eyes met, and for a second, neither of them looked away. "Why is your cheek red?" she asked. "Blushing?" he shot back. "Only on one side?" He huffed a quiet laugh. "You're soaking wet. I don't think they'll let you in like that." "Who said I'm going in?" His eyes stayed on her. She smiled, then took a step back into the rain. "Are you?" she asked, hands behind her back, head tilted slightly to the right. His eyebrows lifted, not quite following. "Going back inside." He glanced toward the bar, then back at her. To get slapped again? Yeah... no. There was something more interesting standing right in front of him. Something about her pulled at his attention in a way he couldn't explain. She didn't look like she belonged there. But she didn't look lost either. He thought about it for a second. Then stepped out into the rain, hands slipping back into his pockets. "Follow me," he said, a grin returning to his face.
