He was thinking about finding a sheltered bench somewhere when it hit him—the theater. The covered porch had padded seating, and no one would be there this far before showtime. He ducked his head and hustled over the slick grass. Shaking drops of water from his hood, Archer clambered up the theater stairs and pulled his book from his sweater. He came up short when he saw another figure who had had the same thought curled up on a bench with a view of the rippled lake.

“Oh. Hi.” Archer stopped, feeling like a big fat intruder.

Mateo looked up. “Hi.” His face was soft, no sign of irritation at being interrupted.

“Sorry, I—”

“Don’t be sorry.” Mateo nodded at Archer’s book. “Looks like we had the same idea.”

“I can find somewhere else…”

“Archer. It’s fine. There’s lots of room here.”

Archer hesitated a split second before he took the bench next to Mateo with the same view of the lake and sat facing him. “You needed to escape, too?”

Mateo grimaced. “Yeah, there was a beer pong tournament in the cabin. You can imagine the noise.”

“I sure can. What are you reading?”

Mateo held up the Tolkien translation of Beowulf that Archer had seen on his bedside table. “I reread Beowulf every few years.”

“Nice.” Archer showed him The Hobbit. “Every summer for me, since I was a kid. That’s why my other copy was falling apart.”

A faint smile flickered over Mateo’s lips. “Well … Enjoy. This is a great reading spot.”

“Except for the interruption, right?” Archer chuckled awkwardly.

Mateo tilted his head, eyes crinkling. “I don’t mind just the one.”

Archer smiled, an unexpected heat flushing his cheeks, as he settled and flipped to his bookmark. He couldn’t resist sneaking the odd peek at Mateo as he read, making sure he wasn’t irritated, but Mateo was lost in his book.

They read in silence for a while, cocooned by the sound of the pattering rain, until Archer’s leg started to tingle. He stopped reading to stretch it out.

Mateo caught his eye. “The rain is nice, isn’t it?”

Archer looked out at the lake again, a shimmering blue and gray stretch ringed by impossible green. “I love it, actually. It makes everything else feel extra warm and cozy. When I was little, my mom would tuck me under a blanket on the porch, and I’d sit there watching rainstorms for hours.”

Mateo blinked, then held Archer’s gaze a moment. “Yeah. I love it, too.”

Something bubbled up Archer’s throat—something old and familiar … something hopeful and new. It was a little overwhelming. “So … feeling better about things lately?”