Becoming Rain: A Novel

“Shit . . .” The second I crack my eyes to find the other side of my bed empty, panic takes over. I went too far. I told her too much.

Scrambling out of bed to pull a pair of pants on, I throw my door open, intent on begging, apologizing, denying . . . anything.

Rain, who must have been just leaving her cabin, lets out a small yelp as I surprise her in the hallway. After a delayed second, she smiles. “Hey.” Her eyes trailing over my hair remind me that it’s probably on end. I self-consciously reach up to begin taming it.

“Don’t.” She laughs and curls her hand over my bicep to stop me. “It looks good like that. How did you sleep?”

She’s impossible to read. I can’t even guess at what’s going on inside that pretty head of hers, about what I told her last night. “Never better.” My gaze drops before I can help myself, taking in the long, tight sweater and leggings that hug every curve I had my hands and mouth on last night.

She smiles secretively, her hand falling to squeeze mine. “Must have been all that fresh air.”

I pull her toward my door, ready to peel off every stitch of her clothes to prove to her that I’m not a bad guy, that I would never hurt her. “Rain, I—”

She gives me a soft, tentative kiss. “They’re serving breakfast on the top deck and I’m starving. I’ll see you up there?”

She’s halfway up the stairs before I can manage, “Yeah.”

She’s fine. Everything’s fine.

Everything’s amazing.