The soft echo of his feet crunching on the gravel meets my ears over my own footsteps. His are louder, and I know part of that is because he’s taking wider steps.

They stop long before my trip to the bus station does.

“I HAVE wine and donuts.” Charleigh pushes the door open with her foot and lifts two bags in the air to show me her treasures.

“Wine first. I want my stomach empty.”

Charleigh cracks a smile and deposits the bags on the counter before making her way over to where I’m slouched at my easel.

“I thought things were getting better with Mercedes.”

“They are.”

“Then why are you in such a foul mood?”

Usually the sound of Charleigh’s accent pulls my lips into a smile. Her sense of humor carries a warmth that I’ve become reliant on. But as she approaches me, all I can think is I want to be alone.

“I found him.”

“Who?” Charleigh’s brows furrow as she stops with several feet still separating us.

“Him,” I say. “Bentley.”

“Oh my God. What do you mean you found him?”

“I mean, I saw him today.”

“What? Where? How? He remembered you … didn’t he?” I try to ignore how hopeful she sounds.

“He thought I was stalking him.”

Charleigh closes her eyes for a full second and then opens them wide, her long painted lashes becoming more pronounced as her eyes seem to stretch wider with shock. “He did not!”

I press my lips together and nod, fighting a smirk that doesn’t feel appropriate for how terrible I still feel about everything that transpired today. It becomes a laugh that makes me cough. All afternoon humor has been at the very bottom of the emotions that I’ve been experiencing, but suddenly retelling my story to Charleigh is making me want to laugh and let the awkwardness of the afternoon fall like the rain.

“Where did you see him?” she asks, leaning closer to me.

“Oh, you’re going to freak out.”

“Tell me!” she cries, sitting beside my small stool, on my bed.

“I’m trying, patient one.” Charleigh scrunches her nose and purses her lips. She wants to tell me off, but her need to hear about my seeing him again is outweighing her retort. My lips climb into a grin before I shake my head to clear my thoughts. King’s wide eyes return to my memory, and with it, so does a frown and the embarrassment I’ve been treading all evening.

“He’s Kashton’s brother. Mercedes’ uncle.”

“You’re lying!”

I shake my head again. “He came right before I got off. Apparently, he lives with them.”

“He lives there!” I can tell by her tone that she thinks this is just as horrible as I do.

I slowly nod in confirmation. There really isn’t anything to say.

“What did he say?” she asks.

“Not a lot.”

“Then how do you know he thought you were stalking him?”

“He asked how I found him.”

“What did you say? Did you tell him he was impossible to find?”

“No! Kash got home. And do you want to know why it was impossible to find Bentley?” My head cocks to the side. “It’s because it’s not his real name.” My voice is raised to express just how ridiculous this all is. “His name’s King.”

Charleigh’s eyebrows soar up her forehead and she stares at me for several long seconds. “His name isn’t Bentley?”

“Nope.”

“People are named King? I thought that was like American pop culture that brought this wave of strange baby names?”

“His brother’s name is Kash, Charleigh.”

She wrinkles her nose and smiles faintly. “What’s worse is they’re starting to grow on me and become normal names.” She throws her head back and shakes her long dark hair before looking back to me. “That really doesn’t sound like he thought you were stalking him though, love.”

“You should have seen his face, Charleigh. He was not expecting to see me. And then I left and he followed me outside and down the driveway and said he wasn’t trying to accuse me of stalking.”

“You never tell someone you aren’t trying to insinuate something! It automatically says that you are!”

I nod several times in agreement and she closes her eyes again, releasing a loud sigh. “So, are you telling me that Mr. Stars is just like all of the rest of the wankers?”

“He’s a dude. The Y chromosome is crafted with the art of being an asshole.”

“No, no. Not all Y chromosomes. Boys are wankers. You need to find a man.”

My lips slide into a smile without me being able to consider it. “I don’t need a man. I need to get some sleep because I have a test tomorrow in math that I’m predicting I’m going to fail.”

“I’m so angry though, Lauren. Aren’t you mad? He was so great, and then you find him and he’s…”

“A wanker, I know,” I say, standing up from the small seat that is far more uncomfortable when I’m not lost in creation. “I didn’t expect to see him again, so I don’t think I’m all that disappointed. I’m more dreading going back and having to possibly face him again.”

“That is going to be awful.”

“Not helping, Charleigh.”

“Sorry! But it is!”

“I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What about the wine and donuts?” Charleigh asks, standing from my bed.

“Allie probably needs them more. I stopped in to say hi to her earlier, and she’s acting like a maniac. Carbs and alcohol will do her good.”

“You might find carbs and alcohol to be beneficial as well.”

“Not tonight. Thanks.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

With a deep breath, I fall against my bed with enough force my hair bounces around me. I should turn off the lights. I should lock the door. I should eat. But my eyes are already closed, tracing over the memories of King from this summer, and seeing him again tonight.

I allow myself only the briefest of seconds before I roll off my bed, hitting the edge with a fist before stalking to the door and locking it, and peeling my clothes off as I head back to my bed, not caring about food.

“LO, WE need to talk.”

Heart thrumming, I turn to face King and watch his long strides close the gap between us faster than what seems possible because my attention is focused on the muscles moving beneath the thin grey cotton of his tee. His slightly uneven smile confirms he knows I was admiring the fluidity and strength of his body. He exudes a confidence and sexual vigor that makes my stomach tighten and every cell in my body to divide with equal parts want and a struggle to deny that want. Trying to ignore the heat rushing through me, I hold my chin a bit higher and wait for him to continue.

The humor is still bright in his brown eyes as he stops in front of me and runs a hand across his chest, drawing attention to how soft the worn fabric appears. My fingers are itching to follow the same path but I clench them tighter at my sides. “You’re so beautiful in the rain.” Extending his hand, he trails his thumb over my cheek that is suddenly wet. All of me is. The rain seems to be literally falling from every direction. My hair and clothes are quickly dampening, sticking to my skin that feels sticky.

I don’t know how to acknowledge or interpret his words. Rationally I’m accepting the compliment, bathing in it, clutching it like it’s a physical object, one precious enough I want to both hide in my underwear drawer and show to everyone.

“What are you talking about? I thought you said…”

“You caught me by surprise. I never expected to see you when I opened that door. I think I just … I was really shocked.” King’s hand trails over my shoulder, lingering on the sensitive skin at the inside of my elbow before traveling down to the inside of my wrist. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

“This?” My voice is embarrassingly low and breathy. King’s lips climb back into his beautiful crooked smile, knowing his affect over me.