Part of me wants to answer Gwen and go

back to my previous life. Nothing was

complicated then. Nothing hurt too much or seemed confusing. Everything was planned.

Perfect.

On the outside, that is. How did I miss that everything internal was a mess? My parents.

Mark. Me and Gwen. Lacy. Is Chris a mess?

Logan? How many more of us are faking the facade? How many more of us are pretending to be something we’re not? Even better, how many of us will have the courage to be

ourselves regardless of what others think?

I flip off my computer screen and the

overhead light, yank off my shirt, and lie down in bed, even though I know sleep won’t come.

The problem with feeling too much is how the HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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hurt consumes every part of me. A slow

agonizing throb aches in my head.

Rain continues to beat against the roof. A storm front that was supposed to hit tomorrow flew into the area today and stalled out over town. Part of me doesn’t want the storm to pass. This was our rain—mine and Beth’s.

“Can I come in?”

I jerk up at the sweet sound of Beth’s voice coming from the other side of my open

window. My fingers fumble with the screen and it bangs against the house as it falls to the ground. I hold my hand out to her and help as she swings one drenched jean-clad leg over the frame, then the other.

The dim light from my alarm clock casts a strange blue shadow over Beth as she shakes uncontrollably next to the window. Her wet hair clings to her head and her clothes cleave to her body. Drops of rain slither down her face and her teeth chatter. “I hhaadd ttoo sseee youu.”

“Here, use this to towel off.” I drape a

blanket around her shoulders, stare at her to convince myself she’s really here, then

rummage through my drawer. I pull out a T-HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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shirt and a pair of cotton sweatpants and hand them to her. In one quick motion, I turn.

“Change. I promise I won’t look.”

Though I want to. She’s here and I’ll do

anything to keep her from running. Beth feels like this storm. Constant and persistent as a whole, but the more I get close and try to clutch the individual drops of rain, the more the water falls out of my hands.

I hear the sound of wet material stubbornly moving against her skin and then the sound of cotton being tugged over her head. “Okay,” she says in a small voice.

I suck in a breath and suppress the groan.

She’s absolutely killing me. My T-shirt ends at the middle of her bare thighs. “Are you going to put the pants on?”

Beth shrugs. “They’ll just fall off.”

She’s right. I force my eyes to her face. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been worried about you.” About us.

Beth fidgets with the hem of my T-shirt. “I can’t say it back.”

And she crushes me into nothing.

“But I want to.”

Hope. A single thread exists and it keeps HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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Beth and me alive. “Because you want to

love me or because you do?”

She straightens out the shirt and runs her fingers through her hair. “What if I do? Feel that way?”

I let her words sink in. Beth loves me. My heart settles and I swallow to find my bearings.

“Because if I do…” She stalls and I start to wonder if her trembling is from the cold or from her emotions. “And you…” Beth sucks in air, then lifts her head so that her eyes plead with mine. “I can’t say it, but I…I want to be here…with you.”

We’re still on shaky ground—Beth and I. If I do the wrong thing, she’ll bolt. The rain picks up and patters harder against the roof. My ribbon clings to her wrist. Beth doesn’t believe in the unseen. She needs a physical reminder that I mean what I say.

My eyes dart around the room and discover the perfect object on my dresser. I brush past Beth, grab the clear bottle, and pour the scant remains of cologne out the window.

“What are you doing?” she asks as if I lost my mind. Who knows, I probably have.

I hold the bottle out into the rain and watch HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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as the steady flow slowly fills it. When

there is enough, enough that Beth can clearly see, I close the bottle and hand it to her.

She raises a skeptical eyebrow, but accepts the bottle.

“It’s our rain, Beth.”

Her head barely shakes to show her

confusion while I rub the back of my neck and search for my courage. “I told you I loved you in this rain and when you doubt my words, I want you to look at this bottle.”

Beth’s forehead wrinkles and she stares at the gift I’ve given her. “I don’t…” she starts. “I don’t have anything to give you.”

“You’re here,” I answer. “It’s all I want.”

Her fingers tighten around the bottle. “I still can’t say it.”

“I don’t care.”

Beth crawls onto my bed and I join her by lying like we did the first night she came to my room. If she needs space, I’ll give her space.

This time, Beth immediately places her head on me. The bare skin of my chest screams in protest of her cold, wet hair. I focus on not flinching or shivering. I won’t give her a reason to turn away.

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Her arm relaxes over my stomach and, in

her hand, she clutches the bottle of rain.

“I’m scared,” she says.

Are her running days over? Am I handing

my heart to a girl who’s going to break it? I choose not to think about it and instead wrap my arms tighter around Beth and bring her closer to me. “So am I. But we’ll be okay. I promise.”

“You could really hurt me if you wanted.”

“But I won’t.”

“Say it again,” she whispers, and there’s heartfelt sincerity in her voice that tells me everything I want to hear. My heart explodes and a surging, powerful warmth rushes through my bloodstream. She loves me. I know she

does.

“I love you.” I kiss the top of her head, never feeling so complete in my life.

“Can I stay?” she asks.

“Yes.”

She willingly molds her body to mine. We

snuggle closer together and I shut my eyes, welcoming sleep. Beth’s here and she’s mine and I silently promise to never let go.

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Beth

SITTING ON THE BED of Logan’s truck, Ryan keeps me tucked close between his legs and his hands rest on the sides of my hips. Ryan’s sweatshirt wraps around me like a minidress and the heat from his body protects me from the chilly autumn Friday evening. He’s

enveloped me in a small, warm bubble. Wood in the bonfire crackles and snaps and creates a rich scent that relaxes me. I cuddle against him, and the deep rhythmic vibrations of his voice lull me into a sense of ease. Ryan has created the sensation of comforter-out-of-the-dryer warmth.

He runs his hand through my hair and

whispers, “You’re falling asleep. Do you want me to take you home?”

“I’m awake.” I pretend that he will hold me forever. Today, I called Mom before gym. Like HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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always, good news comes with bad. She got the car out of the impoundment lot, but she also bailed Trent out of jail and she was somehow shocked that jail hadn’t changed his thunderstorm disposition. She asked me to come get her a week from Monday—after her social security check comes in. I have ten days left with Ryan.

Ryan kisses the top of my head and returns to the same discussion he and his friends have had every day at lunch—baseball playoffs.

Lacy sits next to me in the same exact position with Chris. She drinks from a longneck. “I’m happy you and Ryan are together. It’s nice to be around someone else who never says the word baseball.” Lacy takes another drink and shakes her head. “I take that back—not

someone else. I’m glad it’s you. I’m glad you’re back.”

She’s buzzing. I’m not. It’s strange to be at a party and not be blitzed. The past two weeks have been strange. Now that Ryan has done whatever popular people do to announce their commitments, his friends treat me like one of their own and I’m not sure how I feel about it.