was fast, faster than me.
The rain fell hard against my skin, the dark in the horizon punctuated here and there by rumbling undercurrents of light. I heaved breaths in the lulls between distant peals of thunder, and as I drew up beside him he winked at me, sped up, pushed himself harder. There was a massive puddle up ahead; my sneakers squelched with every step through it and the mud left splotches against my legs. I knew if I looked behind, Iâd see a trail of footprints, mine and his, side by side; I knew if I looked back Iâd see the rain falling into the lake water in a thousand thousand places, the lake connected to the sky by strips of water, everything was water, and it seemed ridiculous now, the idea of my life not mattering, the idea that I was nothing.
I was the rain.
I was the lake.
I was the ground beneath my own feet.
I was full of everything.
I came back to my senses when I saw Zach breaking away. Weâd passed the lake and were on the slick cobblestones of the forest path that ran behind Galloway, in the shadow of theevergreens, and I pushed harder. We were running like there was a ribbon waiting for us somewhere, anywhere, until finally, the cafeteria peeked into view, and I knew we were headed for the steps, but I couldnât beat him, and thatâs when he slowed.
Almost imperceptibly, but enough for me to catch up, enough for us to reach the steps together, and when we did he threw his arms up exultantly. Somehow we were hugging each other.
âGod,â he said, breaking away to stare off somewhere, then at me. âThis calls for some hot chocolate.â
Of course, the cafeteria was closed by this time, so we had to make our way back to the Academy Café in the rear of Galloway. We waited in line at the cashier with our cups, trailing water from our clothes, our hair. The cashier raised his eyebrows at us.
âI donât have any clean clothes,â I realized aloud. Iâd been meaning to do the laundry today.
Zach hesitated, his gaze flicked down and away. Then his eyes met mine: splashes of water, clouds, racing in the wet.
âI can spare you some,â he said.
I was not going to write that paper. I was not going to write that paper. My delinquency had never made me happier.
I trudged beside him through the rain in the direction of the residential quad, holding my hot cup. In his room, I suddenly realized how wet and dirty I was. âRadiatorâs warm,â he suggested, and coughed. âWeâre actually going to get pneumonia, though,â he said with a slight frown.
âHere.â He set his shoes and socks by the radiator, offered me a nightshirt and a pair of sweatpants to change into. He stripped out of his own shirt and jeans without a glance at me, revealing bronze skin, threw them on top of the radiator.
It made me stupidly happy, how well I fit into his clothes. Itoweled my face off, any lingering wet on my body, and then we sat cross-legged next to the radiator, beside our sodden shoes and dripping clothes. I sipped my hot chocolate. The silence deepened, but we were close, our legs almost touching, until I pushed mine against his, gently. He set his empty cup down and I stretched out on the floor beside him. My hand found his; he let me hold it.
His leg brushed against my head and I pressed my cheek to his thigh, stared up at him.
Alex had pushed me away. Had he found someone to replace me?
But I couldnât think about Alex now.
I pushed myself up, and into Zach. He closed his eyes and I kissed him. We tried to fit our arms around each other, our bodies into each other.
âYou taste like chocolate,â he said pensively.
He brushed a leg against mine. We stayed like that for a minute or an hour, and it was uncomfortable, but also the best. Alice seemed strangely distant, not even real. We werenât together; Iâd barely seen her since our first week at Westing, but sheâd be hurt. Was it my fault