A walk in the rain

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The coffee shop had emptied out slightly, the late afternoon rush fading into a quiet hum of background chatter. The scent of roasted beans and vanilla lingered in the air as she glanced at her watch, realizing just how long they had been talking.

"So," he said, leaning back in his chair with a slow smile, "what now?"

She hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. Their conversation had been effortless, words flowing between them like they had known each other forever. She liked that about him—how easy he made things feel.

"I should probably head back," she admitted. "I have some work to finish."

His lips quirked upward. "But do you want to?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "That's a different question entirely."

Outside, the sky had turned a moody shade of gray, thick clouds rolling in. The first few raindrops tapped against the café's window, dotting the glass like tiny, scattered constellations.

"Looks like we might be stuck here for a while," he mused, glancing outside.

She tilted her head, considering. "Or we could walk."

"In the rain?"

"Why not?"

There was something about the idea that felt spontaneous, unplanned—something she wasn't used to but found herself craving. He studied her for a moment, as if weighing her words, before nodding.

"Alright," he said, standing and grabbing his jacket. "Let's walk."

The bell above the door chimed as they stepped out into the cool drizzle. The world outside felt different, quieter. The streets, once bustling, were now nearly empty, the occasional car driving by, its headlights reflecting off the wet pavement.

She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, shivering slightly. "I didn't think this through."

He chuckled. "Here." Without hesitation, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

She looked up at him, startled. "You'll freeze."

"I'll survive," he said, grinning. "Besides, chivalry isn't dead yet."

She rolled her eyes but pulled the jacket closer, his warmth lingering in the fabric.

They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the rhythmic patter of rain filling the gaps between words. The city around them blurred into soft grays and blues, streetlights flickering to life as dusk settled in.

"You know," he said after a while, "this is probably one of the best afternoons I've had in a long time."

She glanced up at him, curiosity flickering in her gaze. "Why's that?"

He hesitated for just a second before answering. "Because for once, I'm not thinking about work. Or deadlines. Or anything else. Just this."

Her heart did something strange—something she wasn't entirely prepared for.

"You make it sound like you don't get moments like this often," she said softly.

"I don't," he admitted. "Not like this."

She wasn't sure what to say to that, so she didn't say anything at all. Instead, she simply walked beside him, letting the rain weave its quiet magic around them.

A gust of wind blew past, sending a shiver down her spine. He noticed instantly.

"Alright, come here," he said, stepping closer and pulling the jacket tighter around her. His hands lingered at her shoulders for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

She met his gaze, and for the briefest moment, the world around them didn't exist.

Just them. Just this.

The rain fell harder now, but neither of them moved. Neither of them wanted to.

And in that moment, something shifted. Something neither of them could quite name—but neither of them wanted to let go of.

The rain wasn't letting up. If anything, it was falling harder, the steady drizzle turning into something heavier, soaking through their clothes and turning the city into a blur of glistening lights and wet pavement. But neither of them seemed to care.

He exhaled, watching as his breath mingled with the cold air. "I think we might need to find some cover before we both catch a cold."

She laughed, shaking out her damp hair. "Probably a good idea."

They ducked into a nearby alleyway, where an old bookstore with a faded blue awning stood like a forgotten piece of time. Its windows were fogged up, warm light spilling out onto the sidewalk. She glanced at him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"A bookstore?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's better than standing in the rain, isn't it?"

He couldn't argue with that.

The bell above the door jingled softly as they stepped inside. The scent of old paper and ink filled the air, a welcome contrast to the crisp cold outside. Rows upon rows of books lined the walls, their spines worn with time.

An elderly man behind the counter peered over his glasses at them. "Caught in the rain, did you?"

She smiled, brushing damp strands of hair away from her face. "Something like that."

The old man chuckled. "Well, take your time. There's tea in the back if you need to warm up."

She shot him a grateful look before turning to browse the shelves. He followed her, watching as her fingers lightly traced over book spines, stopping every now and then to pull one out and skim the first few pages.

"You like bookstores," he observed.

"I love them," she corrected, eyes shining. "There's something about them that feels... safe. Like stepping into another world."

He nodded, understanding more than he expected to. "I get that."

She tilted her head at him. "Do you read?"

He smirked. "Are you asking if I can read? Or if I do read?"

She rolled her eyes. "The second one."

"A little," he admitted. "But nothing too deep. I guess I never really made time for it."

"That's a shame," she said, pulling a book from the shelf and pressing it into his hands. "Here. Try this one."

He glanced down at the cover—a classic, something he had heard of but never picked up. "You're assigning me homework now?"

"Consider it expanding your horizons."

He chuckled, flipping through the pages. "Alright. But if I hate it, you owe me coffee."

"If you hate it, I'll buy you coffee," she corrected.

"Deal."

They wandered deeper into the store, the rain now a distant hum against the windows. It was strange, how natural this felt—how easy it was to fall into step with her, to share quiet moments without the need for forced conversation.

At some point, she stopped in front of a small reading nook, where a single couch and a worn-out armchair sat beside a cluttered bookshelf. She sat down without hesitation, curling her legs beneath her, and looked up at him expectantly.

"Well?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "You actually want me to start reading now?"

She shrugged. "Why not?"

He exhaled dramatically but took a seat in the armchair anyway, opening the book to the first page. She watched him with a quiet sort of amusement, and for a moment, he wondered if this was what she had planned all along.

Minutes passed, the only sound between them the occasional rustle of pages and the rain tapping against the glass. The bookstore felt like its own little world, untouched by the rush of the city outside.

She leaned back against the couch, eyes half-lidded. "This might be one of my favorite days," she murmured.

He glanced up. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Coffee, books, and unexpected company. Not bad at all."

He smirked. "I'll try not to take offense at the 'unexpected' part."

She laughed softly. "You know what I mean."

And he did. Because, if he was being honest, this was one of his favorite days too.

The rain outside had slowed to a drizzle by the time they finally decided to leave. They thanked the old man at the counter, stepping back out into the cool night air. The streets were slick with rain, puddles reflecting the glow of streetlights.

He looked over at her, still wrapped in his jacket, her expression softer now.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" he asked.

She hesitated, as if considering. "I think I'd like that."

And so they walked. Side by side. No rush, no expectations—just quiet footsteps on wet pavement, the echoes of their conversation lingering in the air.

Neither of them said it out loud, but they both knew.

Something was different now.

Something had changed.

And neither of them wanted to stop it.

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