Page 43 of I Choose You

First off, I don’t refer to anyone as babe, nor would I meet up without first talking to someone. And even then, I talked to Ben, and look what happened there. I gloss over Theodore’s first message, then my belly churns with disgust as I read the second.

Theodore: Btw, I have a thing for freckles. (;

I toss my phone into my desk, slamming the drawer shut. I call the family adopting the sweet Pitbull terrier mix who was brought in far too long ago and block out every other thought, including Theodore and his love for…freckles.

Rain droplets fall from the sky faster than the speed of light, and there is no end in sight. I stand by the entrance, watching as it pelts against the sidewalk. Looking at the palette of colors in the sky, graphite and cool gray clash together, creating a frightening mixture that puts a chill in my bones.

I can’t remember the last time Maine saw a storm this bad this time of year. It’s not impossible, but extremely rare, and that rarity is staring me down, smirking over the idea that I walked to work this morning.

The crisp air helped to give me clarity as I thought about Owen’s guidance from the weekend. With the leaves changing colors, the sunrises are heavenly this time of year. It’s well worth the extra sleep lost to trek on foot. The best view is over the crest of the park on the way in, where golden hues of honey paint the sky for the rising sun.

Looking at it now, you would have never guessed the sun rose to the same shades of orange found on a monarch’s wings. Now it’s despondent and inconsolable.

I peer down at my phone when I hear it ping with a new message from Owen. We’ve been texting since he’s back to work. His messages are always light, sometimes funny, and never fail to make me smile.

Owen: What does daylight savings time mean in Seattle?

Me: What?

He told me yesterday he flew out to Washington to work for two days. I imagine it’s as wet there as it is here right now. He messages me back instantly.

Owen: An extra hour of rain.

I smile, snap a picture of the storm coming down, and send it back to show Maine could be Seattle’s best friend. I scan the row of emojis, pick the rain cloud, and press send. Before he responds, a horn blares from the street. Water cascades down the window when I look up, distorting Mason’s car at the curb.

My throat tightens, and acid from my stomach inches higher. It’s the first time I’ll be seeing him since our kiss. I messaged the group chat earlier, asking if Luke or Mason could pick me up from work. I hoped for Luke, but Mason was the one who volunteered. I could have messaged Luke directly, but part of me was hoping for a response from Mason so we’d have a new interaction to cover up the tingling I get on my lips every time I think about him.

I lock up, give the door a jiggle to make sure it’s locked, then sprint across the sidewalk. As much as I would love to push this moment off forever, I want to get the hell out of here. This weather puts an eerie chill in my bones, and I’d rather not be stuck in the middle of it.

Mason leans over the center console and pushes the door open as I reach the car. It’s perfect timing. I yank the door shut when I slide into the passenger’s seat, lean back and heave out a breath. I’m drenched from the few yards it took me to get to the car and slick back my hair before savoring the heat blowing from the vents. Unlike the lukewarm droplets that fall in the summer, this rain matches the season’s lower temperatures.

He speaks first, his hand gripping the steering wheel. “Sorry it took so long. Traffic is backed up. I passed two accidents.”

“Great,” I deadpan. “So, if we’re lucky, we’ll be home by, say, midnight?” My hangry self tries to forget about the way his lips orchestrated nicely against mine. Instead, I use the need for food and the anxiety of this storm to place my focus elsewhere.

I have never liked thunderstorms or the way Mother Nature thrashes around. As a kid, I would hide under my bed when the weather got this bad.

A layer of tension takes over the car when Mason glances at the dashboard, the clock reading after six. On a good day, I’m home before five. Mason may be my knight in shining armor, but it doesn’t change the fact that this rain is torrential.

“I’ve been listening to the news on the way over. Flash flooding shut down one of the major highways, so we’ll have to brave the back roads.”

For the first time since getting in the car, I notice his dark, damp hair. I frown, knowing that I can deal with rain showers and snow. I just can’t do severe downpours that risk my well-being. Panic surges below my skin, my entire body humming with a nervousness that won’t pass until this storm does.

“I hate this.”

His voice is a whisper. “I know.”

One summer when we were kids, there were two tornado warnings a month apart. Each one brought clouds as dark as night twisted with nasty yellows and greens. The memory of both is filed in the traumatic drawer of my brain’s filing system. No doubt this storm will add to the growing register.

He breathes deep, his hand moving down to shift the gear into drive. Both hands tighten around the wheel as rain pelts against the windshield. The wipers move at the highest speed, swishing away the puddle of rain that accumulates on top of it. He’s careful as he eases back out into traffic.

With his attention on the road, he watches his speed and other cars close by. The rain comes down so hard it’s impossible to see more than twenty feet ahead. At one point, he turns the radio volume higher to listen to traffic news. I intently listen before I ignore it out of self-preservation.

Unsure of what to say, I keep quiet so he can focus. I don’t know if we’re going to talk about what happened or if we’ll ignore it for the rest of our lives. Either way, we kissed. Mason’s lips were on mine. They were there and divine and made me feel alive.

I can’t get it out of my head, but now isn’t exactly the best time to hash it out.

We approach a turnoff that leads to back roads we’ve driven tons of times. He makes a right and glances over at me as we merge, creating this hope in me that we’ll get home without a hiccup. If we have to reroute because of flooding, we’ll need to backtrack to the highway and use an exit that isn’t blocked off from the rain.

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