by Rose Wulf
“There’s hardly anything good about it,” Brooke grumbled as she draped her sopping-wet raincoat over the back of her chair.
“Don’t like the rain?” Blake asked conversationally even as he shrugged out of his own coat.
“I like the rain just fine,” Brooke corrected him. “Just not when I have to be out in it, and especially not when I have to be out in it so early in the morning.”
Blake chuckled and, as their professor moved toward the front of the room, whispered, “I suppose that’s understandable.”
At this point, Brooke desperately wanted to ask him why he was in such a good mood, because she was sure she remembered him saying he wasn’t a morning person. Not to mention, even if he was, who was in a good mood when it was pouring outside? And he was absolutely in a better mood than anyone else in the room at that moment. But, as her luck would have it, the professor chose that very moment to begin class, meaning her inquiry would have to wait.
****
Her luck hadn’t improved by the time her final class was done for the day. She stood at the lip of the overhang, barely a dozen yards from the main parking lot, and stared up at the sky. The temperature had dropped, but the rain had not stopped, and now the lightest of snow was falling from the sky. It wasn’t cold enough yet for the snow to stick on the ground, for which Brooke was grateful. She absolutely hated driving in the snow. In fact, she suddenly recalled, that was one of the reasons she’d moved to Darien—it never snowed there. It’s amazing what a difference thirty minutes makes, she reflected.
“You have seen snow before, right?” Blake asked as he came to a stop beside her, hands in his pockets and trusty backpack slung over one shoulder.
Brooke jumped visibly, as she hadn’t realized he’d been standing there, and turned to look at him. Her retort died in her throat, however, when she realized something else. His hood was down.
Blake looked over at her and raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”
“Are you crazy? Or do you want to get sick?” Brooke asked incredulously, completely ignoring both of his questions. Before he could do more than give her a confused look, she added, “Why in the world is your hood down?”
He stared at her for a long beat, blinking slowly, before his lips twitched just slightly. “I’m not crazy, I won’t get sick, and I don’t like hoods. I like to feel the rain.”
Holding one arm out for emphasis, Brooke exclaimed, “That’s not rain, it’s snow!”
Blake shrugged calmly. “Snow is just frozen rain. And this is practically more sleet than real snow, anyway.”
Brooke gaped at him for a long moment before pulling her arm back beneath the overhang and shaking her head. “Snow, rain, sleet, whatever. You’re not supposed let yourself get soaked in it.”
Blake’s lips twitched, threatening another grin. “Come on, the snow’s not going to stop just because you’re standing here. I’ll walk you to your car.”
Not knowing what to say to that, or even if she should, Brooke nodded mutely and watched as he casually stepped out into the snow. For a moment, she just stared, watching with strange fascination, as the fragile white flakes dusted his dark hair and the top of his dark blue rain coat. She shook herself out of it and took a deep breath before following him.
“You’ll have to lead the way,” Blake pointed out as they stepped off of the sidewalk and into the parking lot.
Pretending she had already thought of that, Brooke easily stepped ahead of him. “You know, you don’t have to walk me to my car. What if you’re all the way on the opposite side of the parking lot?”
A teasing grin apparent in his voice, Blake replied, “Then I guess I’ll be spending a little more time in the snow.”
“Or I could drive you to your car,” Brooke offered guiltily. She was, at the moment, questioning his sanity, but he was being nice enough to walk her to her car, so really it was the least she could do.
“That’s very nice of you,” Blake began, “but you don’t have to. Like I said, I enjoy this kind of weather.”
“Well, that explains your good mood this morning,” Brooke declared before she could think better of it.
“What do you mean?” He moved a bit closer to her.
“Just that you were, I don’t know, glowing or something when you got to class earlier,” Brooke replied awkwardly. That really hadn’t come out the way she had wanted it to, but it wasn’t exactly wrong, either, so she didn’t bother to correct herself.
“Glowing, huh?” Blake repeated with a tone that indicated curious amusement.
She had the distinct impression he wasn’t actually going to elaborate at all, and even as her lips curved into a frown, she found herself wondering what she had really expected him to say. He likes the rain, she reminded herself. What more does he need to say?
And then she realized she had nearly walked past her own car.
Abruptly turning, she pulled her keys from her pocket and stepped up to her silver Honda Civic. “This is me,” she declared as she unlocked the car. Turning a smile up to her escort, she added, “Thanks. Are you sure you don’t want that ride?”
Blake’s grin was automatic, and he shook his head as he said, “You’re welcome, and absolutely.” Jerking a thumb at the somehow-still-shiny, dark-blue newer-model Mustang in the parking space behind her Civic, he added, “That’s me right there.”
The jealousy she’d felt when she’d first seen his phone flared to life again when her eyes settled on the sports car. She’d always wanted a Mustang. “Well, that’s fortuitous. Guess I’ll see you on Wednesday, then?”
Shoving his hands back into his pockets, Blake replied, “At the latest.” Then he turned and began calmly walking towards his car.
As much as she wanted to stand around and ogle the car—and the man—she really wanted to get out of the slurry-snow, and so she yanked open her door and practically dove inside. She could’ve sworn she heard him chuckle as she jerked the door shut again in her effort to keep the inside of her car somewhat dry. Grumbling, she adjusted herself properly in the seat, deposited her bag in the passenger seat, and then cut a glance to her rearview mirror.
She watched as Blake beeped his car unlocked, easily opened the door, and then casually tossed his backpack inside. Then, and only then, did he angle himself inside, and it was several more seconds before he pulled the door closed. Watching him move so casually, Brooke almost thought she was hallucinating the wet weather. Never, in all her life, had she known someone who loved rain and snow that much.
****
Blake was ten minutes out from Darien when his cell phone rang. It was Dean’s ringtone, and so he switched it easily to his earpiece and hit the appropriate button. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” Dean replied grumpily. “I need a favor.”
“What kind of favor?” Blake asked skeptically. With his brother, the favor was just as likely to be some harmless errand as it was to be some outrageous request.
“I’m out of coffee, and I’m dying,” Dean replied.
That explains his extra-grumpy tone, Blake reflected. “And you want me to go to the coffee shop for you?”
“No,” Dean said with obvious irritation. “I want you to go to the store and pick me up a can of Folgers or something. And don’t take your good mood out on me.”
Blake rolled his eyes and did his best to bite back his grin. “You do it to me and you know it. But yeah, I can pick you up some coffee, as long as you don’t mind waiting. I’m still a few minutes from town.”
“I can handle that,” Dean assured him as his microwave dinged in the background.
“Lunch?” Blake asked curiously.
“Leftover pizza,” Dean replied. “It sounded good. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in class still?”
Blake could only laugh at Dean’s belated realization. “Yeah, but my last professor lives in the mountains up north, and they got snowed in, so class was cancelled. You got enough of that pizza for me?”
“Sucks fo
r them,” Dean commented. “I might … but only if you don’t make me pay you back for my coffee.”
“Right,” Blake replied as he slowed to take the necessary turn-off, “‘cause you’re broke. I’ll be there in about fifteen.”
“Sweet, later,” Dean said before disconnecting.
****
“Ugh, it’s roasting in here,” Blake declared as he stepped into Dean’s single-bedroom house.
Rolling his eyes at his sibling, Dean snatched the can of coffee from him. “What’d you expect? Anyway, I need your help with something else, too.”
Blake shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the coat rack Dean kept by the door. “My help?”
Dean gestured for him to follow and began walking towards his kitchen. “I already called Logan and asked if he’d mind patchin’ it up for me, but he said it has to be dry first—which is where you come in.”
“Your window leaks?” Blake guessed as he came to a stop beside his brother.
“Yeah. I hadn’t seen it yet when I talked to you.”
Blake moved up to the window over Dean’s kitchen sink, spying the steady stream of water seeping in. “Piece of cake. Did you tell Logan I was on my way?”
“Yeah, he said he’ll be here soon, whatever that means.”
As Dean’s front door eased shut from behind them, Logan’s familiar deep voice called, “It means that we don’t all drive like a bat out of hell. Now where’s this leak I’m patching up?”
Blake looked past Dean and lifted one hand in greeting. “In here. If you’re ready, I’ll dry it up for you.”
Logan inclined his head, coming to a stop beside Dean. “You realize that since it’s still raining, it might not stick? Unless Blake’s gonna stay overnight and keep an eye on it.”
Dean sighed. “All right, I have an idea. Make the area dry for me and I’ll … go out and see what I can do to keep it that way.” Then he turned and headed for his entry, where he pulled his slick raincoat from his closet and shrugged into it.
After Dean had slipped—hood up and pulled tight—through the door, Blake looked back at Logan again. “He always makes such a big deal out of rainy weather.”
Logan shook his head. “Tell me about it. I just hope he doesn’t set his house on fire.”
Blake chuckled, turning his attention back to the window when he saw Dean’s huddled form on the other side. “I hear you,” Blake agreed. Taking a deep breath, he lifted one hand deliberately and held it out.
Logan watched as the water that had leaked in began retreating, seeping back into and then through the same miniscule crack it had entered from. His gaze lifted to the window, and, as he watched, the rain that was still steadily falling seemed to curve around Dean’s body, leaving a gap of several inches. After another moment, Blake lifted his hand a little higher and offered Dean a thumbs-up.
Dean returned the gesture and then reached out, toward his wall, beneath the window.
“That’s probably your cue,” Blake said, stepping away from the window.
“Yeah,” Logan replied, pulling the tube of caulking from his jacket. He easily applied it to the crack along the window, and then moved back. “He better not flash-fry it.”
Blake laughed and said, “Maybe we should move back, just in case.”
Both brothers stepped backwards until they were standing on the threshold of the kitchen, several feet from the window. When Dean lifted his eyes from his work and saw this, he aimed a glare at them and lifted one hand to flip them off. Then he stepped back as well and hunched his shoulders forward to shield himself from the rain, before moving out of sight.
Dean slipped back into the house thirty seconds later, kicking the door shut and shaking off as much of the water as he could. “It’s freakin’ wet out there!”
“That’s the general idea behind rain,” Blake pointed out with a grin.
“You know,” Dean replied after he’d draped his coat beside his brother’s and lifted his eyes back to Blake, “some days I wish it could rain fire, just so you could know how I feel.”
“Thank God you’re not in charge of the weather, then,” Blake exclaimed.
Dean sighed and looked to his other brother. “Anyway, I heated up the area enough that it should be dry by now.”
Logan inclined his head. “With a little luck, it should at least last you through the storm. And maybe next time when I offer to check your house before winter sets in, you might let me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean replied, rolling his eyes.
****
“Thanks for picking me up,” Angela said as she eased into the passenger seat of Blake’s Mustang. She easily tossed her backpack into the backseat, beside where his still rested, and pulled the door shut.
“It’s not a problem,” Blake assured her with a smile. As she snapped her seatbelt into place, his smile turned into a teasing grin. “Wouldn’t want you to get sick or something having to walk home in this downpour.”
Angela rolled her eyes at his joke and leaned back in the seat. “Like that even could happen. Really, aren’t you supposed to be the sensible one?”
“I am,” Blake stated with the straightest face he could manage. They were silent as he pulled away from the curb in front of her school and eased back into traffic.
It wasn’t until he had aimed the Mustang toward their childhood home that Angela sighed, leaned her head against the cool window, and exclaimed, “I can’t wait until I’m eighteen.”
Curious at her declaration, Blake looked sideways at her with one eyebrow raised. “What makes you say that?”
“Mom and Dad bought all of you the car of your choice for your eighteenth birthday,” she replied. “I want my own car, so I can stop relying on everyone else to be available when I need a ride.”
Blake could easily recall the last few months of his seventeenth year, when he’d felt much the same. Only his options had been significantly smaller. With a grin, he said, “C’mon, Angie, one of us is always around. You know that.”
“I know,” Angela assured her brother. “Although I hate riding on the back of Nate’s motorcycle. All I can ever think about is how easy it would be to fall and die.”
Trying not to cringe, Blake said, “Yeah, sometimes I still can’t believe Nate chose a motorcycle when he could have had just about any car he wanted. He could’ve just gotten a convertible. Same wind factor, right?”
Angela laughed this time and nodded. “Exactly!”
“Still,” Blake continued with a grin as he turned onto their court, “at least he doesn’t drive like Dean.”
Angela mock-shuddered. “You do have a point.”
Blake slowed as he pulled up in front of the double-garage that housed their parents’ vehicles and said somberly, “On a serious note, Angie, give your car some real thought, okay?”
“Says the guy who asked for a Mustang,” Angela returned, her lips and tone teasing even though he could see in her eyes that she took his words to heart. “Thanks again, Blake.” She leaned over, snatched her backpack, and planted a kiss on his cheek before popping the door open. “See you later!”
Blake watched until she had closed the front door behind herself before switching his car into reverse and backing out of the driveway.
****
The rain was still falling that night when Blake stepped up to Earl’s Diner for dinner. He rarely ate out by himself, and he certainly had plenty of food in his refrigerator, but the idea had hit into him as he’d been leaving Dean’s to pick up his sister and nagged at him ever since. And he’d have been lying to himself if he tried pretending he’d chosen Earl’s by random coincidence, too.
He reached to pull open the main door as it swung open, nearly slamming into him and forcing him to step backwards as he yanked his hand back. A man he barely recognized was holding the door wide, waiting patiently for an older man he didn’t know at all. Blake moved to the side politely even as the older man lifted his eyes to Blake with a glare.
Not
a word was spoken as the men made their way past him and toward the parking lot. The man whose name he probably should have known had also paused to glare at him, as if he were deliberately blocking their path.
Blake was completely dumbfounded. He knew he didn’t know the older of the two, and if he did know the younger one, he didn’t know him well enough to claim any level of familiarity with him. So why would they go out of their way to glare at him? It made no sense. Maybe he didn’t actually know either of them; maybe they were just unfriendly strangers staying in town to wait out the storm.
Brushing it off, Blake reached out once more and pulled open the door to the diner. This time he managed to make it inside without incident, and he paused to shake off some of the rain water instead of trekking it through the establishment.
“Evening, Blake,” the woman behind the register called with a smile.
Blake inclined his head. “Evening, Shelly,” he returned even as he made his way to an open booth. Finding one he liked, he slid halfway down the seat and let his forearms rest lightly on the tabletop. Looking at the empty bench seat across from him, Blake decided it was weird to eat out by himself. I should think this through a little better next time, he decided.
“Some weather we’re having, huh?” Georgia declared as she came to a stop beside him a few seconds later.
Blake turned and smiled up at her, hoping his disappointment didn’t show on his face. He honestly hadn’t expected to see her. “It’s not so bad,” he replied easily.
Georgia crinkled her nose. “You’re only saying that because you can’t tell what it did to my hair when I stepped outside this morning.”
Blake grinned. “That’s probably true.”
With a grin of her own, Georgia took his order and tucked the pad back into her apron pocket before suddenly declaring, “Sorry Brooke’s not here tonight. She switched with Amanda last minute.”
Blake stared up at her, sure she couldn’t possibly have read him that easily. But she clearly had. Suddenly feeling awkward, Blake lifted one hand to scratch at the back of his head and said, “Oh, it’s fine…”
Georgia offered him a knowing smile, mumbled, “Uh-huh,” and turned to check on her one and only other table.
