Page 105 of Sunset Catchers

“You’ll see,” he says simply.

On the count of three, we run all the way to the front porch, each hugging our own bags to our chests to keep their contents from getting drenched.

Kit’s house if deafeningly silent when we get inside after Levi unlocks the door with his key. It has faded flames on it, and it’s the same one he’s had since he was twelve years old. We leave our shoes in a wet puddle in the entryway, and Levi takes my hand, leading me through the house until we’re standing in the sunroom.

My next breath wooshes out of me with awe. The glass panes are covered in rivulets of water, racing each other to the green grass. The few precocious spring flowers have their heads turned down, heavy from the rain, forming colorful umbrellas. And beyond that, there’s the lake, where every fat drop of rain creates millions of surges on the surface of the water before disappearing into its dark depth.

I’ve always loved a rainy day.

There’s something soothing about them. When it’s sunny outside, there’s a pressure to do a plethora of tasks to make good use of that day. Go on a hike, take out your bicycle, clean something and let it dry under the warm sun.

But when it rains, all expectations are forgotten; it’s acceptable to have no plans at all. To simply exist in a state of laziness. To hover like melancholic specters.

“It’s so beautiful.”

The words are whispered to match the quietness around us.

“Yeah,” Levi agrees softly. “This is my special place when it rains.” He turns his blue gaze toward me. “I thought we could spend the day here. Read and enjoy the view. Together.”

My heart swells.

“I’d love that.”

Coffee is poured into mismatched vintage mugs, pillows are hoarded from the living room, and soft throws are unfolded from a basket. Books are taken out of bags, and bodies are squeezed close together into one deep, pink round reading chair.

And that’s how we spend the morning, sharing a colorful knitted blanket even if there’s plenty to each have our own, with a book in our hands while the rain splattering against the windows serves as our very own soundtrack.

When both our stomachs rumble with hunger, Levi makes us grilled cheese and heats up some of Kit’s homemade tomato soup. We eat our lunch at the table in the sunroom, pointlessly bickering over if peach is a shade of pink or a shade of orange, our feet, dressed in colorful Phentex slippers, playing with each other under the table.

After that, we shuffle back to our reading nook and each get back into our own story until my brain needs a break, and I lay my book open in my lap, observing the soaked landscape outside. I catch Levi’s eye.

There’s a new glint in his gaze, one I’ve never seen before. It makes my heart feel so big in my chest that I bring my lips over to his, to pour the overflow into him.

We kiss, and his hand slides beneath my sweatshirt while mine finds the curly hair at his nape.

And that’s all we do.

It never goes further than our lips meeting in a sort of soft fever. Than our fingers seeking barely there touches of warm skin. Silent, breathless laughs as breaks to catch our breaths. Lips curved into silly smiles. Whispers of sweet words and self-sufficient sighs.

The sound of hearts racing in perfect harmony with the rain tumbling down the sky.

Blues holding browns captive. Wounds being sewn shut.

This moment, it’s simple and it’s nothing, but it’s so complex in its entirety.

It’s a wrinkle in my time line—whatever I do after today, I’ll never be able to smooth it out.

It’s a moment I wish I could print out and keep in a heart-shaped locket around my neck, so Levi and I would always be squished together, always kissing.

I’ll always remember this day and how I kissed Levi until my lips went numb and my heart grew in another chamber where a blue-eyed boy resides.

I bet he’ll just love how I’m planning to decorate it.

Later, when we’re back at our cottages and Levi takes my hand to lead me to his, I pull on his hand and he stops, a question mark on his face.

My eyes never leave his, as I tug him toward my own cottage instead. To my own bedroom, where I start undressing him, slowly.

“You’re sure?” he asks me. Always so sweet. We’ve only ever done this in his cottage. This was the final line for me; letting him my safe space.