Page 40 of Rainse
“Tell me to stop,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
She didn’t. Instead, she rose onto her toes and kissed me.
It wasn’t the desperate rush of before — this one burned slower, deeper. The taste of her filled me, warm and salt-sweet. I kissed her back with all the patience I’d been forcing into words these last few days, and all the want I couldn’t hide anymore.
The first rumble of thunder rolled across the sea.
She broke the kiss long enough to whisper, “We should probably find shelter.”
“There’s an abandoned hut past the grove,” I said, already taking her hand. “Come.”
She didn’t argue.
We ran, laughing when the first heavy drops of rain hit the sand, our fingers locked tight. By the time we reached the small wooden building at the edge of the beach, the storm had arrived in full — warm rain drumming on the roof, wind tearing through the palms outside.
Inside, the air was dim, smelling faintly of salt and wood polish. She stood in the doorway, rainwater glistening on her skin, hair plastered to her cheeks.
She looked like the sea come to life.
And I couldn’t look away. She was everything I'd ever dreamed of. And yet, if I wasn't careful, I may lose the most precious person I had ever met. I couldn't pressure her. Had to take it slow. Had to let her make the decisions.
I forced myself to look around the small hut. It was mostly empty, except for a stack of towels near the door, a heap of seat cushions and a random assortment of bottles.
Rain drummed against the roof, steady and hypnotic. The single light in the hut flickered, throwing soft shadows across the walls. Verity wrung the water from her hair and laughed quietly, breathless from the run.
“You weren’t kidding about the storm,” she said.
“It came faster than I expected.” I reached for a towel and offered it to her.
She took it, smiling. “How very convenient. I wonder if any of these bottles are still full. The wine at dinner was nice, but I wouldn't say no to a nice gin.”
“I don't believe I know what gin is.”
"I will make sure to introduce you. If there's none in here, we'll get some at the bar. Once the storm has calmed down. I don't want to get wet again. Do you like storms?” She rubbed the towel through her hair and I stood there, mesmerised.
“I respect them. They remind you how small you are.”
She hummed, a thoughtful sound. “I used to love them. When I was little, we'd go on holiday to the south of France. Lots of thunderstorms there in the summer. I’d sit by the window and count the seconds between lightning and thunder. But now, after the whale incident… they just make me think of waves.”
I wanted to reach for her but didn’t. Not yet. “You were brave, Verity. You didn’t just survive — you fought the sea and won.”
She glanced up, eyes catching the dim light. “You make it sound heroic. I think I was just lucky. And you did most of the heavy lifting.”
“Luck doesn’t swim toward danger to save someone else,” I said softly. "I may have saved you at first, but it was you who saved my life in return."
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t answer.
Thunder cracked overhead, shaking the wooden beams. She jumped, and I stepped closer on instinct. “Easy,” I murmured.
“I’m fine,” she said, though her voice was tight.
“You don’t have to be. I get jumpy sometimes, too."
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The storm howled outside, all noise and fury, but in here everything felt suspended — as if the world was holding its breath.
She exhaled first. “This place smells like varnish.”
“Better than fish.”
