It started raining halfway through Friday.
Not a soft drizzle—the kind that whispered. No, this was the kind of storm that announced itself. Thunder rolled in over the city like a warning bell, and by 3 p.m., the university courtyard had emptied into a blur of umbrellas and soaked backpacks.
Ezra had forgotten his.
Talia found him under the archway of the science building, textbooks shielding his head as he blinked up at the sky like he could will it into stopping.
"You," she said, stepping beside him with her enormous purple umbrella, "are a cliché."
He squinted at her. "A soaking wet med student?"
"A tragic, beautiful mess in the rain."
Ezra laughed, shaking droplets from his hair. "You came to rescue me?"
"No," she said, "I came to mock you. The rescue is just a bonus."
They took the long way home, even though the rain had soaked through their shoes and Talia's mascara was starting to smudge. The storm turned the streets into silver rivers, and neither of them said much—just the kind of silence that felt like two hearts quietly syncing.
When they got home, Ezra peeled off his shirt in the doorway.
Talia blinked. "You know, usually there's a little more lead-up to that kind of moment."
"I'm cold," he said flatly.
"Sure," she teased. "That's definitely the only reason."
He gave her a look. "You're impossible."
"And yet," she replied, kicking off her boots, "you still love me."
He paused. Just long enough.
Then: "Yeah. I really do."
They didn't study that night.
Instead, they did something completely out of character for both of them—they went digging through Ezra's vinyl collection, something he'd inherited from his father.
"I didn't peg you for a music nerd," Talia said, cross-legged on the floor in her favorite hoodie of his.
"I'm a nerd for many things. Music is just one of them."
He handed her a record: Fleetwood Mac.
"Classic," she said.
"Emotionally dangerous," he corrected, placing it gently on the turntable. The needle dropped with a soft scratch. Music filled the room—warm and aching.
They didn't dance.
They just listened.
Halfway through side B, Talia leaned her head on Ezra's shoulder.
"You know what I realized today?" she said quietly.
"Hmm?"
"You're not afraid of me anymore."
He smiled, resting his chin on her head. "No. But I used to be."
"I used to be afraid of you, too," she admitted. "Afraid you'd make me fall for you and then walk away when I got too messy."
"I did walk away."
"Yeah. But then you came back."
Ezra tilted his head toward her, his voice barely a whisper. "And I'll keep coming back. Every time."
Talia looked up at him, eyes wide, heart full. And without needing to say it, she leaned in and kissed him—slow, steady, and soaked in the kind of love that only comes after surviving storms.
Later, curled under the blanket on the couch, Talia pulled Ezra's hand into hers.
"Can I tell you something stupid?"
"Always."
"I think I want forever with you."
Ezra turned to face her, eyes soft. "That's not stupid."
She smiled. "You sure? Because I've never said that to anyone."
"I'm honored to be your first."
"Okay, now it's cheesy."
He grinned. "A little. But also true."
The rain kept falling.
But for once, neither of them felt like hiding.