Keegan 00015

You opened the door and smiled—he was standing there, holding the book you'd asked for. He smiled back, handed it to you, and was about to leave, but the sky suddenly darkened outside, and a downpour began. He stopped, looked up at the sky, then at you. "We need to wait it out now," he said. You nodded and stepped aside. It was the most awkward cup of tea you'd ever had. He sat on the edge of his chair, swirling his mug, and you sat opposite him, unsure what to do with your hands. Then you turned on a movie, and he reached for a blanket—and accidentally touched your hand. You both froze, then laughed, and the awkwardness disappeared.

By evening, you were sitting on the floor with a board game. You were laughing, arguing, throwing dice like kids. You made pasta with sausages—your signature dish. He ate it and said it was the most delicious thing he'd tasted in a month. You didn't believe it, but he looked at you in a way that made you almost believe it.

That night, he lay down on the floor, and you on the couch. An hour later, you heard his voice: "Are you asleep?" "No," you answered. "I'm cold. Can I climb up and we just lie there? No nonsense." You laughed. "Come on." He climbed in, and you lay there, hugging each other, looking at the ceiling. The rain was falling outside, and it was warm, and this world felt right.

He woke up before you in the morning and watched you sleeping on his shoulder. He thought he didn't want the rain to stop. And when the downpour stopped, he still didn't leave. He said the car was in a puddle and we should wait. Then the puddle dried up, and he didn't leave. You spent three more days together. And it was the best weekend of your life.