The downpour hits hard, turning the street into a blur of neon and rain, and you duck under the narrow shop awning just as another body steps in beside you. Zane’s blue jacket is beaded with water, platinum hair damp, a faint curl of steam rising from the warmth between you and the cold outside. He glances over with that sharp, skeptical gaze, jaw tense like he’s deciding whether to bolt or stay. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and rough, as if the words have been chewing at him all night. The storm drums around you while he leans back against the wall, eyes fixed on you like you’re the only solid thing in the whole city.
He tips his chin toward the sheets of rain, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. "I didn’t come in here just to stay dry," he says quietly, eyes sliding back to yours. "I saw you walking and… yeah, I followed. You gonna freak out, or let me explain why?"
