He looks up at me and moves the book from his lap and onto the turned-over seat. The way he’s looking at me, with a hunger and anticipation, it makes my head swim. I think for a second that he’s leaning in again, deliberately this time, but before anything can happen the clouds overhead open up. Fat raindrops begin to fall on us and the blankets and the books, threatening to ruin more than an afternoon of notes.
Rory jumps down from the Jeep and lifts me down too, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to hide my disappointed expression as he rushes to grab some tarps from underneath the seats to throw over the top of the car.
Meanwhile, I grab most of the books and make a beeline for the school awning just to get out of the rain. The raindrops are cold, and my shivering is starting to reach teeth-chattering levels by the time he jogs over to my side.
“I knew it was a stupid idea to take the top off today,” he grumbles, stepping out from under the rain and taking a moment to push the wet strands of hair out of his face.
“How are you not cold?” I ask. He’s only been wearing a T-shirt this entire time and hasn’t seemed the least bit uncomfortable. I’m having a hard time not staring at how the rain has made the wet clothes cling to his body.
“I run pretty hot,” is his unhelpful answer.
I have no idea what he means by that but I’m sure every girl at school would agree on the hotness factor. We wait out the worst of the rain before heading back to the car to stow the stolen books somewhere where the wet blankets won’t ruin them.
It’s still misting out a bit, but nothing like it was before.
“Guess we’re done for today,” he says as he slides into the driver seat and starts reaching over for the handle on the passenger’s side. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
“You don’t have to,” I say. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve walked in the rain.”
“Don’t be silly. Besides, I’m going that way anyway.”
I turned down a ride once before, and for the first time I wonder what would have happened if I didn’t. Would this whole sorry game of cat and mouse have ended already, or would it have been over before it began?
“Fine. But you have to take me straight to the cabin. No shenanigans.”
He cracks a wide smile. “Who do you think I am, Marlowe?”
We don’t say much on the ride. To be honest, I’m not sure there’s much to say after that moment in the back of his car. I don’t really know what to think about Rory.
One minute he’s hot, too hot, and the next he’s icy cold. It’s only a matter of time before he shuts down on me again. I know it.
When we pull up to the cabin, the rain has seriously started coming down again. If it weren’t for the tarps thrown over the books, they’d all be completely ruined by now. As it is, the thick coverage of pines overhead does little to stem the rain that’s now drenched me to the core in the front seat.
I prep to dodge out of the car and up to the house as quick as I can, but out of the corner of my eye I see Rory reach for his handle too. He leaves the jeep running as he walks me to the door.
I’m not sure why he feels the need to do it, but it reminds me of how Marlowe stood outside that one night until he saw me go in himself. I think for the first time, I don’t hear the wolves in the distance. I know it’s probably just the rain, but I feel a slight weight lift off of me. The forest and all its depths seem just a little less dark.
My mom, of course, sees us walking up through the window and immediately opens the door to greet us.
“I wondered what kept you,” she says as she wraps one hand over my shoulders, ignoring the fact that my drenched hair is now soaking her too, “but now it makes sense. Who’s this?”
“This is Rory,” I say as I motion my hand toward him, my face reddening.
She squints at Rory a moment. “Do … do I know you?”
“No,” I answer quickly, before he can say anything. “But you probably recognize him because of his dad.”
She looks at me blankly for a moment, until I add, “Romulus.”
Her face lights up right away, and for some reason, I find this extremely annoying.
“Oh yes, of course. Romulus did mention he had three sons. I should have recognized you right away, you look just like him. Please, won’t you come in?”
I get ready to make up an excuse that he has to rush off somewhere to spare him from my mother’s inevitable small talk, but he’s already taking a backwards step off the porch.
“I really have to be going,” he says, nodding his head in my mother’s direction before glancing back at me. “See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure.”