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Getting Caught in the Rain

Liaa Kumar

    “Hey, wait up!”, the sound barely carried over the pounding rain. I threw a half hearted wave over my shoulder and kept walking, not the least bit interested in getting myself, or the very heavy box of prom decorations I was struggling to balance on my hip, any more soaked. “Hey!”, I heard again, this time much closer. I groaned and resigned myself to hypothermia as I slowly turned around, fixing a wide grin on my face. Only to see Trevor’s black hair bounding towards me.
    Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one to make judgements about a person no matter how annoyingly pretentious they may look on the outside. But you’re just going to have to trust me when I say that when it comes to guys, especially if that guy happens to be named Trevor, I have substantial evidence to base my reasoning on. In fact, in ninth grade, after a particularly bad day I set aside two hours to write a list of every single thing about Trevor that aggravated me. It was supremely satisfying and extremely enlightening and probably the most productive two hours I spent the entirety of freshman year.
    So I hope you can understand why I might have been less than enthused to be greeted by none other than Trevor, when I wanted nothing more than to curl up in my trusty Honda Civic and get my body temperature above right about to freeze to death. As soon as I realized it was him I groaned and turned back around, the smile slipping off my face, replaced with a vague frown. I picked up my pace, spotting my Civic a mere twenty feet away. I had just started what the sweet comfort of artificial heat would feel like wrapping around my shoulders when I felt Trevor bound up to me. Because that’s what he did, “bounded” everywhere. He was absolutely incapable of walking anywhere like a normal person. Which, if I remember correctly was #35 on the list.
    As soon as he caught up to me, I whiffed a smell of Versace’s “Eros” cologne for men, a tidbit I was unfortunate enough to be privy to because Trevor had made a point to mention it in every conversation he had with anyone, for the entirety of first semester English freshman year (#12 on the list). I sighed, I suppose the rain was a small blessing because otherwise I would probably be passed out from the sheer amount of the stuff routinely dumped on himself. Between you and me, I think he’s worn enough of it now that his skin literally leaks the scent.
    “Hey Steffers,” (#5 on the list, annoying nicknames) he said, wrapping an arm around me. I rolled my eyes and shrugged his arm off my shoulder, pointedly shifting the box I was carrying to my other hip. Undeterred, he lifted the box off my hip and positioned it under his arm in one smooth motion. He looked at me pointedly and nudged me with his shoulder until I muttered, “Hi.”
    “So are you loving this weather or what?,” he said. “Yeah, loving it,” I replied monotone, determined to keep my replies as monosyllabic as possible. He furrowed his brow and glanced over at me. He was silent for a few seconds before he said, “Hey, uh, so I was wondering if you were busy after this?” I gauged the distance to my Civic, twelve-ish feet. I could handle twelve ish feet, even if it was with Trevor. Turning my attention back to him I said, “Actually, yeah. I have a date. With a grande vanilla chai latte and my planner.”
    I walked forward purposefully, heading directly for my car. Only halfway there, I realized Trevor wasn’t beside me anymore. I turned around and spotted him halfway across the parking lot over at his ——(minivan?). He was placing my box in the backseat and walking to the drivers’ seat. When he saw me looking at him he smiled and waved his arm in greeting. I threw my arms up in annoyance and groaned audibly, I gestured dramatically towards my car and mimed putting the car in my backseat. I even mimed picking up a chai latte from Starbucks on the way home, but I don’t think he got that part.
    He just shook his head and smiled ruefully before ducking into his car. I groaned again and looked up at the sky in annoyance. I closed my eyes, focused on the rhythmic pounding of the rain against the asphalt and tried to take deep, calming breaths before stomping over to his car. By the time I made it over to his car my hands were numb and I tried grabbing the door handle three times before Trevor leaned over and opened it for me. I slid into the front seat soaked and shivering and almost cried with relief when I realized he had already turned the heater on; not that I would cry in front of him. That would be beyond embarrassing.
    “I-i n-need mm-my box,” I ground out. He chuckled and rubbed his hands together as he said, “N-no, you need to warm up first.” I exhaled in frustration, this week had been spent fielding hordes of questions and complaints about prom, the upcoming debate competition our school was hosting and my fundraising plan for this year’s school-wide community service project. I was bone tired, and all I wanted was for someone to finally, finally just do as I say. “G-give me m-my box, Fulner” (I preferred not saying his first name, it was painfully aggravating). This time it was him that exhaled in frustration. “Would you please c-calm down? I don’t want to keep your stupid ancient prom decorations okay? I just want you to please not die of hypothermia because you’re too stubborn to take care of yourself!”
    I sat there, not sure if the shock I was feeling was from the cold or the way Trevor had just exploded. We sat there in awkward silence for a couple of minutes, fidgeting, not quite sure what to do with ourselves. Trevor and I were never really friends, we didn’t really talk, and we definitely didn’t yell at each other. I looked out the window, and studied his reflection in the glass. His head was down and he was nervously pulling at the drawstring on his jacket, his cheeks were bright red.
    His hair, somehow, still managed to look decent even though he had just walked through what was essentially a torrential downpour without a hat on. I couldn’t say the same for my hair, it had gotten soaked through, and now in the heat it was starting to frizz up. It essentially was starting to resemble a birds nest, a very poorly constructed birds nest, that had just gotten ransacked. I decided I needed to add something else to the list, #74: His hair never looks bad. Seriously, I remember when we were in 7th grade and he lost a bet and had to dye part of it purple. You would think it would make him look kind of like a pixie but somehow, he managed to make it work and spent the rest of 7th grade looking like the edgy version of Shawn Mendes.
    I started contemplating how much more awkward it would make the whole situation if I just jumped out and made a break to my car. I could drive away in peace, escape the awkwardness and finally get some much needed caffeine. I could get someone else to pick up the decorations, we didn’t even really need them, I just wanted them for inspiration. I started to weigh the pros and cons of fleeing when suddenly, he sighed. He glanced over at me, lifted his head and said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. That’s-not why I wanted you to get in.” I turned from the window and stared him down, yeah, he shouldn’t have yelled. But what I kept getting stuck on was what he said. Finally, when he started to shift uncomfortably, I asked, “What did you mean?” He looked at me questioningly, right eyebrow slightly raised. This time it was him who stared me down and I couldn’t help but feel a little put on the spot as I said, “When you said I don’t take care of myself, what exactly did you mean?”
    He looked at me long and appraisingly. Long enough that I started to get annoyed and started shifting in my seat. Finally, he said, “You’re joking right?” I looked at him in surprise, the venom in his words catching me off guard. “Excuse me?”, I said, automatically on the defensive. He scoffed and faced the windshield, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and started bouncing his knee. I rolled my eyes, I was getting tired of waiting. “Um, hello? You still haven’t answered my question genius,” I said exasperatedly.
    He stilled, then turned suddenly, “Look at yourself!” He shook his head and said again, softer, “Look at yourself Stephanie.” I raised my eyebrows in surprise, I was definitely not expecting him to yell again. When I stayed silent he continued, “The bags under your eyes have gotten so bad that you practically look like a racoon! You just go through life taking on everyone’s problems while completely ignoring your own, and you don’t even have enough respect for yourself to eat three full meals a day!” He looked like he wanted to say more but when he saw the look on my face he stopped.
    I don’t even know what my face looked like because I was feeling a potent combination of emotions. Anger, yes, but underlying it was a swirling mess of feelings that I couldn’t even begin to identify. We had fallen silent again, but it was different this time. This time, the air was charged. It felt almost electric, I could almost hear it crackling around us. The thumping of my heart felt like the bass line of an EDM song and the hair on my arms was standing on end. I opened my mouth to say something, but then I wasn’t sure what it was that I wanted to say, so I closed it again.
    We both looked around the inside of the car, the awkwardness too present to ignore this time. When we finally caught each other’s eyes, I offered up a smirk, and before I knew it, we were both cracking up with laughter. We laughed for I don’t know how long about who knows what. When it finally subsided I turned slightly in my seat, looked over at him and said, “I think that warrants another apology.” He looked at me, raised his eyebrows and said, “I don’t think so, I think that was some much needed advice you needed to hear so actually, I think you owe me a thank you.” I rolled my eyes and scoffed, “Yeah, right Fulner. Like I would ever take advice from you.” As soon as I said it, the smile slipped off his face and he furrowed his brows.
    “What?,” I asked.
    “I was being serious Steffers,” he said softly. “And I know you don’t want to hear it, because you’ve got everything figured out, and everything under control and you never need any help from anyone ever, but you don’t care enough about yourself.” I bristled at his tone, which was tinged with a little anger and a good amount of annoyance. And even though I had spent the past fifteen minutes warming up in his car, I felt myself go cold. I hated the way he was looking at me, like I was a broken doll that he needed to fix. He opened his mouth to say something else but I beat him to it.
    “Save it, Fulner,” I snapped. “We’re not friends, and you don’t know me. And regardless, you never have anything important to say anyways so god knows why I’ve wasted the last fifteen minutes of my life listening to you. And my name isn’t ‘Steffers’, it’s Stephanie okay? I hate your stupid nickname, which you would know if you actually knew me at all!” I was furious, with Trevor, with the rain, with myself for not just driving away when I had the chance. He was looking at me, his mouth shaped in an ‘O’ and his hands in the air, the universal sign of “I’m innocent and you need to calm down.” He was looking at me the way you would look at a wild animal you were trapped in a cage with.
    “Woah-,” he started, softly and I bristled again. “Stop it Fulner, I don’t want your help and I don’t want you messing with my life, okay? I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in being saved. Least of all by you. So drop it okay?” As soon as I said the words I felt the guilt gnawing at me, I shouldn’t have yelled. But what was I expecting to happen when I climbed into Trevor Fulner’s car? It wasn’t my fault he always said the exact wrong thing.
    I turned towards the door, caught his eye in the reflection of the window and immediately felt the guilt gnawing at me. His eyes were as dark as the storm clouds outside but they were also filled with hurt, hurt I didn’t realize my words could cause him. My heart squeezed in my chest with a surprising amount of force as I looked at him. My hand hesitated on the door handle for a fraction of a second, but then he opened his mouth to say something. I didn’t want to stick around for what he had to say, not right now.
    I felt tears building up in my eyes, why, I had no idea but I was not going to cry in front of Trevor. I had humiliated myself enough. I fumbled for the door handle through the tears that now blurred my vision and threatened to fall at any second. I grasped the handle and desperately pulled at it before stumbling back into the rain.
    It was still pouring and I was instantly soaked, but this time the cold felt like nothing compared to the raging of my heart. I slammed the car door behind me and made a break for my car on the other side of the parking lot. Halfway there, I distantly heard the other car door slam. I heard Trevor’s feet pounding on the asphalt behind me and that was enough to make the tears start falling. It started with one, sliding agonizingly slowly down my cheek. I walked faster as I felt them start to streak faster down my face. I swiped at them angrily and hurried my pace, not wanting anyone, especially Trevor, to see the tears that were now fully streaming down my face. I glanced at the sky and felt, for the first time today, grateful for the rain.
    My heart was pounding and I was shaking, from the anger or from the rain, I couldn’t tell. My heart felt tattered, absolutely shredded, and for all intents and purposes I couldn’t tell why Trevor, of all people Trevor, had such an effect on me. All I knew was that the only thing I wanted to do right now was climb in my car, lock the doors, and cry long, heaving, ugly sobs until the hurricane that was my heart right now finally calmed down and I could regain a little bit of control over my life.
    I had almost reached my car and could feel my body start to slacken with relief. The tears were rising within me, like a thrashing, angry wave that threatened to consume me. I was reaching for my keys when I felt a hand circle my arm and spin me around. Trevor stood there, soaked and shivering, his hair was a mess (finally) and his eyes were boring into me. I wanted to scream, but when I opened my mouth to speak, I felt the tears pressing against my throat so my indignant, “What now?” came out strangled and weak. He just looked at me, his green eyes gazing into mine and I felt myself shiver, only this time it wasn’t because of the cold. I saw his eyes trace the tears that wouldn’t stop falling and he cupped my face with his hands and gently brushed them away with his thumbs.
    And when they wouldn’t stop falling he gently pulled me against him, catching my tears against his chest. His arms circled around me and held me in place and instead of being absolutely mortified, I completely fell apart. I sobbed my big messy ugly sobs on to his chest and got snot all over his shirt. As soon as the tears dried up, I realized what had just happened. Feeling unbearably awkward I said, “I’m fine, I’m fine” and shrugged his arms off of me. I expected him to argue but he just dropped his arms to his sides. It was then that I realized how close we were standing to each other. I felt my face flush as I realized that I must look like an absolute wreck. I blushed even harder when I realized that I was standing close enough to Trevor that there was just a sliver of space between us and that I kind of wanted to kiss him.
    As if reading my thoughts he stepped closer, closing the space between us. His right arm slid around my waist and he pulled me in close until I was pressed against him. It circled my back and he held me to his chest as he leaned his forehead against mine. We had never been this close and I couldn’t honestly say that I hated it, in fact, my heart was still pounding, only for completely different reasons this time. His eyes were dark and serious as he looked at me for a couple of seconds before whispering, “I’m sorry. I just-it just” he paused, struggling to find the words, “I just really like you,” he said finally.
    I looked at him and expected him to crack a smile, wink or do something to lighten the weight of his words but instead he just looked at me, his eyes open and vulnerable and I felt my heart start to thrum. I stared at him, unsure of what to say, and what I was feeling when he continued, “You try to manage everything around you, all the time Steff-Stephanie. And I’m just scared that sometimes, sometimes you lose sight of yourself in everything and everyone around you and I want to help but-,” he paused again. “I just don’t know how,” he finally whispered as he hung his head.
    I wrapped my arms around his neck and nudged his head with mine until he was looking at me again. I smiled and said, “Well, you could try starting with not yelling at me for one thing. And maybe try having a conversation with me once in a while instead of an intervention? Yeah, I think you could try starting with those.” He looked at me and smirked, opened his mouth, and before he could say anything stupid, I raised up on my toes, pulled him in and kissed him. I know, I even shock myself sometimes.
    Both his arms moved to my back, pulling me gently against his chest and anchoring me to him. I ran my hands down his chest, and through his hair, pulling him into me. And standing there with him, tangled up in his arms, in the pouring rain pounding against the ground, for a moment everything was perfect. And then he pulled back and said playfully, “You’ve been waiting to do that for a while, huh?” I groaned and rolled my eyes, “So dumb. You are so dumb. And we’re both going to get so sick.” He grinned down at me and said, “Sounds like a perfect first date.” I would have rolled my eyes again but I was already pulling him in for another kiss.

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