Page 118 of All About You
My expression twists in confusion. “Why would you need rain to study?”
Ria shoots me an unimpressed glance, as if I should know the answer already.
“For the aesthetic, duh.”
Well, it’s not aesthetic at all right now, especially if it’s meddling with my plans to reunite with the boy who’s potentially the love of my life.
Before dinner, my parents tell us that they’ve got an order of ube pandesal to pick up at a house not far from us. I lock the door as they leave, groaning at the rain. The sun is dipping rapidly below the horizon, and the colours remind me of the mountain overlook.
Marlon’s face, blazing and beautiful under the sunlight, flashes through my mind.
Fuck it.
I run upstairs. This rain can keep pouring for all I care.
It’s not going to stop me from my happy-ever-after.
Ripping a jumper from my wardrobe, I throw it over my body, and clumsily put on some socks. I grab my umbrella from the doorknob, and almost stumble down the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Ria yells from her room.
“To win Marlon back!” I scream back, the euphoria bursting from my chest.
Opening the door, my heart races in anticipation.
“Jaslene.”
He’s there.
Standing under the rain.
Marlon, with a light-blue jacket and black joggers that’s beginning to grow more and more drenched by the second. Standing on my lawn, in front of my house.
My lips part in surprise and I step forward, crossing the threshold. The rain hits me immediately, and it’s loud against the pavement.
“Marlon?” I yell, squinting, because I’m afraid now that my feelings for him have caused me to drastically hallucinate.
When my vision makes out his figure, I step forward, pace quickening. The rain is going to make him cold to the bone, and then he’s going to be sick, and it’s all going to be my fault.
“What the hell are you doing? You’re going to ge-!”
“Christine told me everything.”
I stop just as I reach him, my body immediately rigid.
“She - what did she tell you?”
My words tumble over each other in a mess. Marlon shakes his head.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“What - why are you sorry?” I ask, because if anything, I’m the one who should be crying a million sorry’s right now.
Even if he forgives me, I’ll never stop apologising. He takes one step, and another, until he’s right in front of me. I fear that if he steps any closer, I’ll perish. I’ll burst into flames.
Marlon’s eyes hold mine. It’s all brown, everywhere. My comfort. My safety.
His stupid hair is all wet from the rain, and he has that unbearable, dimpled smile, the one that I never stand a chance against.
