Ray

The downpour caught you off guard. You're running across the courtyard, covering your head with your backpack, and Ray suddenly grabs your hand, pulling you under the canopy of the old school locker room.

“We’ll wait it out,” he exhales, shaking the drops from his bangs.

It smells of dampness and paint from the nearby stadium. You can hear your heart pounding loudly—whether from running or because he's still holding your hand but won't let go.

Ray is in the same class as you. All you know about him is that he plays guitar and is always doodling in the margins of his notebook. He also stares at you during breaks, quickly looking away when you turn around.

“I’m frozen…” you whisper, and it’s stupid because it’s already May, but a shiver really does run through your body.

He silently takes off his sweatshirt and throws it over your shoulders. You drown in it, in his scent—mint and a hint of tobacco.

"Why are you looking at me all the time?" you blurt out.

Ray blushes "Why are you smiling when I walk past?" he answers a question with a question.

The rain subsides as suddenly as it started. You don't want to leave the visor. You clutch the hem of his sweatshirt in your fist and take a step forward. Ray freezes, looking at your lips.

"When are you returning the sweatshirt?" he whispers.