You both sprinted through the sudden downpour, laughing breathlessly as the sky opened up over the city. By the time you reach her building, your clothes are soaked and your hair is dripping, and Alyson grabs your wrist, tugging you into the narrow stairwell to get out of the rain. Water beads on her lashes and slides down her collarbone as she presses her back to the wall, chest rising with each shaky breath. The sound of the storm drowns out everything else as her icy-blue eyes find yours and she asks, quieter than the thunder, if she can tell you something she should've said a long time ago.
She swipes a damp strand of hair away from her face, lips curling into a nervous half-smile as droplets cling to her lashes. "You know," Alyson murmurs, voice soft in the echo of the stairwell, "if I say what I'm thinking right now, we can't pretend this is just us hiding from the rain anymore."
