Rain has a funny way of softening everything — the streets, the air, even people. Today was one of those quiet, grey days when the sky looks like it's carrying everyone's secrets.
Classes ended early, and I found myself sitting under the big oak tree near the law building, umbrella half-open, watching the rain blur the edges of the world. That's when I saw him — Andre, sprinting toward me, absolutely drenched, holding two cups of coffee like his life depended on it.
"Doctor!" he called, voice half-drowned by the rain.
I blinked up at him, unimpressed. "You look like a wet puppy."
He grinned, breathless. "That's your puppy to you."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop smiling. He plopped down beside me, shaking his hair like a dog, and handed me one of the cups.
"Careful," I warned. "You're dripping all over my coat."
"Consider it my way of marking territory," he said.
I choked on my coffee. "You're insane."
"Only for you, Doctor."
---
For a while, we sat in silence — just the sound of rain and our shared warmth under the umbrella. His hand brushed mine once, then again, until finally, he just took it, hesitantly at first, as if asking permission.
I didn't pull away.
"You ever think," he said softly, eyes fixed on the rain, "how people meet for a reason?"
"Don't go all philosophical on me, Lacoste. You're a law student, not a poet."
He smiled, that small, knowing one that always makes my chest tighten. "Maybe I just like the idea that fate owes me something good."
I didn't answer. My throat felt tight.
He turned to me then — soaked, messy-haired, his gaze honest and open in a way that made it hard to breathe.
"I like you, Vivian," he said, voice low but sure. "Not just the way you talk or how you roll your eyes at me. I like the way you walk like you don't owe the world anything. I like how you make everything feel… quieter."
My heart stuttered. I hated how my cheeks burned. "You're just saying that because I share my coffee."
He chuckled. "Maybe. But mostly because it's true."
I didn't know what to say. I'd forgotten how to handle words that didn't come with an agenda.
So instead, I squeezed his hand — just slightly — and said, "You're too sweet for your own good, Puppy."
He grinned. "I'll take that as a yes."
"I didn't say yes."
"You didn't say no either."
We both laughed then, the kind that shakes away everything heavy.
---
When the rain finally stopped, he walked me to my dorm. Before leaving, he leaned close — close enough for his breath to brush my ear — and whispered,
> "For the record, Doctor, I'd chase you through a thousand rainy days if it means you'd look at me the way you just did."
And before I could respond, he was gone — just like that — leaving me standing in the doorway with my pulse still racing.
---
I didn't write much tonight. I just know this:
Andre Lacoste is dangerous in the softest way possible.