My entire body stills. My parents, I think, the thought sharp and jagged. My parents are the reason I’m like this. Is that what you want to hear?

I don’t say that. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.

Instead, I say, “Leave me alone,” and reach down to grab my phone and umbrella. The umbrella is more or less a lost cause, but my phone miraculously survived the fall, unlike his.

I feel a brief pang of regret, but it fades when I see a text from Anam, promising to keep my seat warm. I’m going to be really late at this rate. The thought heightens the unpleasant heat simmering low in my stomach. It doesn’t help that my clothes are sticking to me like glue now. Again, the urge to just sit down and cry hits me, but I push it back, ignoring how my throat is slowly closing.

“What’s wrong with you?” the boy asks, drawing my attention back to him. “You don’t have to be...” He trails off, his eyes narrowed, sharpening his beauty beyond words.

“Such a bitch?” I ask roughly. “No, go ahead. Say it. Say it with your whole chest.”

A muscle slides in the boy’s jaw. “I wasn’t going to say that. I happen to have manners.”

I laugh, but the sound falls flat. My brain is too sluggish to even attempt to continue this awful conversation. First my parents, then Rosie, then Grant, and now this? Can this day end already? “I’m sure you do.”

The boy huffs, crossing his arms. I keep my gaze focused on his face rather than the rivulets of water trailing across his bare forearms, the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up. He doesn’t even have a jacket on. It’s January.

God, I don’t have time for this.

“Get out of my way, would you?” I give the boy an unimpressed look when he doesn’t move. The nearest deli is around the corner, and I can only hope they have umbrellas in stock—and maybe, just maybe, some bell peppers.

The boy keeps staring at me. Is he really not going to move? The longer I stand out here, the more likely I am to snap and lose my shit. Or maybe just burst into tears. I swallow past the lump in my throat, forcing down the grief attempting to choke me.

“I have better things to do than stand around arguing with you,” I say, my voice surprisingly even. “If you won’t move, I will.”

I shove my shoulder into the boy’s, pushing past him. It becomes clear that he towers several inches over me, but I focus more on the sudden inhale that escapes him and the way his entire body seems to tense. A rush of vindication spreads through me, and I almost smile despite the heavy feeling weighing down my bones.