The rain poured down as she climbed the front porch steps with trepidation. Runnels of water snaked down her bare neck through the rubberized collar of her storm coat. She gathered herself and rang his doorbell.
The door opened, and he looked at her, surprised. “Oh, hey. I didn’t expect you.” His hair was mussed in that painfully cute way she loved. She feared she looked like a drowned squirrel.
“I–,” she started. She stopped and summoned her courage. “I don’t want us to be ‘just a thing’ anymore. I want more.”
They talked for a while, there at the door. Finally, he closed the door and she sat down on the steps, rain running down her hair. The wet concrete of the steps soaked the seat of her jeans as she sat, face in her hands.
The door opened up. He came out with a raincoat on and his beat-up overnight bag over his shoulder. He hugged her tight, and said, “Let’s go someplace where it’s not raining.”
Ramon Rozas III writes in West Virginia. He has previously appeared in Leading Edge Magazine, Aoife’s Kiss and in EDF (twice!). He confesses that this is his first romance piece ever.
