Page 83 of When The Rain Falls

“Wait, what—” Finn starts. I don’t let him finish. I hang up. Well, I hang up as best you can with a smartphone. By jabbing furiously at theend callbutton on the screen.

I turn away from the window and refuse to look outside the rest of the night. Mostly.

28WHY CAN’T WE BE FRIENDS?

AIMEE

“Isthis where you push me into traffic?” Finn groans painfully behind me.

As we come up to the intersection, the green pedestrian light changes to a flashing red hand, stopping my forward momentum.

“Just waiting for the right bus.” I angrily slap the crosswalk button and it sends a jolt of pain up my arm. I recoil and try to shake off the sting. This isn’t fair. He doesn’t deserve a break yet. There are far too many intersections on this road.

Reluctantly, I jog in place and turn to face Finn. He’s hunched over, hands on knees, panting and sucking air through his mouth. He’s standing excessively far from the edge of the sidewalk. And that’s a good thing. Because today is not ideal to test whether I’m one of those humans that are capable of revenge murder.

“Goddamn, can’t you just key my car or something?” He tilts his head up to cast me a pity-seeking look. “Isn’t that usually how this works?” I try to ignore how attractive he looks covered in hot sweat-marked cotton, his chiseled face glowing red from exertion. Damn this bastard. Looking so hot when I’m trying to torment him.

“You drive a minivan.” My ponytail bobs on top of my head as I continue to run in place. Sweat is beading on my forehead and I wipe it away with the back of my hand. It’s cold this morning, but not after you’ve been running for several minutes.

Finn rolls his eyes at me. “What do people have against minivans?” he mutters.

“Yours in particular? Probably the zip ties on the fender.”

“Perfect. Just how I like my torture. With a side helping of digs at my ride. I’m trying to think of other ways you can emasculate me, but I think you may have it covered.”

That statement earns him a laugh, which I quickly cover with my hand. I haven’t tortured anyone before. Not on purpose. But I’m pretty sure laughing takes away the severity of the punishment.

“Stop complaining. And running isn’t that bad. You have all thosemuscles.” I gesture across his body. “Let’s see you use them.”

“Muscles don’t help you run. They just weigh you down. Do you know how much work it takes to move these muscles around?”

“Poor thing,” I cluck at him. “You should hear yourself.”

“I can’t hear a goddamn thing over the pounding of my collapsing heart. I can feel my pulse in myfingers, Aimee.” He raises a hand into the air and wiggles his fingers to demonstrate. “In my fuckingfingers. My heart’s going to fucking explode.”

“Heart? Wait, you have one of those?”

“Aimee!” He reaches for me but I jump backwards. “I’msorry. Can we turn around now? How much longer are you going to torture me?”

I glance down at my GPS watch. Ponytail still bobbing furiously. “Oh, just three to four more miles.”

At that moment, the crosswalk sign changes back to green. I spin around and take off across the intersection.

“Miles? Goddammit. You know if you kill me, you can’t torture me anymore. You know that right?”

He’s right. I need him alive if I want to stretch out this suffering. I take care to go only the speed that will elicit pain and not death.

Finn was not pleased this morning when I met him at his front door with two pairs of headlamps. But he didn’t complain. He hemmed and hawed and did a lot of glaring. But hedid notcomplain. I waited as he reluctantly trudged back up his stairs to put on gym clothes. He’s been shooting me daggers ever since.

And I’ve been trying to peel my eyes off his hot, sweaty frame. This plan of mine appears to be backfiring.

My mind knows he shattered me, but I wish someone would tell my body that. It’s still burning steady with desire. And so, I’m in a tug-of-war of wanting him desperately but knowing that I can’t be his. That the attention he gives me is not really for me. I’m both elated and destroyed at the same time.

Things were quiet for a while. But somehow we slipped into easy ribbing and chatter. It almost feels normal. And I’m almost tempted to think we could be friends somehow. Friends that talk. And wave to each other from across the street. And exchange Christmas cookies. And chat about the weather. And remember the night they were passionately mouth-fucked on the deck.

I quickly brush the thought away and turn my attention to the sidewalk in front of me. The world is passing below my feet like a never-ending red carpet. But where is the red carpet going? Where is my life going? And why did I ever let myself believe that the man across the street was more than another fling?

It’s not long before we come up to the pedestrian walkway of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge, near several lanes of busy traffic. When we get to the bridge, I slow down so Finn can catch up.He’s moving even slower now, clutching his side and bending awkwardly.

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