And that was where I ran into Lauren and company. It was back before every teen had a camera phone, thankfully, but Lauren made sure to tell everyone just how much of a freak I was. Farisha was out of sight, thankfully, and I never uttered one word about her being a “freak” too. There was no need to drag her into it.

Reaching into my backpack again, I get out my notebook, hoping for inspiration to strike as strongly as it did all those years ago. It takes a while, but it does, and I outline the next three chapters, seamlessly putting in a sword fighting scene for Charles’s sake—that totally fits with the story. Usually, I don’t like to write longhand what I then have to go back and type, but the fight scene is so clear in my head I start writing it out—and then can’t stop.

Rain starts to drip down on me, but I ignore it, not stopping until the drizzle becomes a steady fall. I close my notebook, blinking as I look up, and seal it safely away in my backpack. I stand, realizing just how long I’ve been sitting there on the rock. My left foot is asleep and my butt hurts from sitting in one position for so long. My head hurts from having my hair up in a tight bun, so I pull my hair tie out, giving my scalp a break. It’s the only downfall to having such thick hair.

I hold out my hand, loving the feel of the rain on my skin. I slowly start walking back toward the trail. Thunder rumbles overhead, and I pause, mentally debating if I should just walk in the rain or if I should go to the picnic shelter and wait out the storm. When lightning flashes, I decide to take the safe route and go to the shelter. It’s not a far hike, and I’ll be there in just a few minutes if I pick up the pace.

Stepping over a fallen log, something crashes behind me. I freeze, straining to hear past the loud sound of rain falling in the leaves. A branch snaps. It’s probably a deer. Or a bunny, even. They can be rather loud for how small they are. There’s also a chance a bear has wandered down, tempted by the food left out at the campground and picnic areas. The fearlessness I felt facing bears from my youth has left me, and lying on the ground, slowly bleeding to death seems likely.

Swallowing hard, I slowly turn around, looking behind me. The rain starts to come down harder, and the wind picks up, rustling the forest and making it hard for me to hear if certain death is lurking closer and closer. A few seconds pass and nothing attacks me. Along with bears, my adult mind goes to serial killers or psychopaths living in the woods, kidnapping hikers and slowly peeling off their flesh in strips which they dry and eat like beef jerky.

Sometimes having an active imagination is problematic.

Forcing myself to stay calm, I increase my speed, not stopping until I make it back to the path. It’s pouring now, and thunder crashes above me, reverberating through the forest. The dirt path under my feet is slippery now, and I almost fall a few times as I hurry to the picnic shelter.

I look like a drowned rat and don’t feel like dealing with people right now, so I’m pleasantly surprised to see the covered area empty. Well, this side of it at least. There’s a large stone fireplace in the center, open on both sides for people to warm themselves by in the colder months. Something moves on the other side of the fireplace, and all I see is a flash of black.

Now there is a real chance it’s a bear. It might not be taking shelter from the storm like I am, but it’s definitely eating any scraps of food left behind by picnickers. I slow right as lightning sizzles in the sky and another clap of thunder shakes the very ground beneath my feet.

Whatever is behind the fireplace moves forward. It’s not a bear, but something much, much worse. Eyes, dark blue like the stormy sky, lock with mine, and the cold rainwater suddenly drenches my heart, making a shiver run down my spine.

“Chloe.”

Chapter Eight

Sam

The world stops, and the air is sucked out of my chest. Wind and rain rage around us, and thunder booms when her full lips part, drowning out whatever she said. I blink, afraid if I look away she’ll disappear somehow, that maybe I’m just imaging all this.

She’s drenched from the rain, dark red hair hanging around her face, somehow highlighting her intense green eyes. Dressed in hiking boots, black leggings, and a white t-shirt with the words Nightfall along the collar, my eyes go right to her breasts on their own accord and—fuck—I can see the faint outline of her nipples through the wet fabric.

I’ve wondered what Chloe looks like naked multiple times over the years. I’ve caught glimpses of her here and there, most happening innocently enough. But seeing her—all of her—has been the subject of my dreams more times than once.

The years have been good to her, and even standing here, barely out of the pouring rain, with wet hair, no makeup, and mud splattered on her feet and ankles, Chloe takes my fucking breath away. She’s even more gorgeous here than she is in photos—photos where her hair and makeup have been professionally done and she has her arm linked through some guy’s.

The wind gusts, blowing rain into the covered shelter. The flames in the large fireplace, which were almost out, hiss in protest. More thunder rumbles overhead and lightning flashes across the darkening sky. I blink and the logical part of my brain kicks into gear.

It’s storming, and my phone buzzed with a weather alert not long ago, warning about a tornado in the next town over. Chloe is still at the threshold of the shelter, at risk for getting hit by lightning or debris. I think the shelter might hold up in the event a tornado actually went through here, but we’d need to move to the center, hoping the great stone fireplace will hold and the structure won’t lose its integrity if trees topple over.

Chloe shivers again, pulling her arms in toward herself. If I had a jacket, I’d take it off and give it to her. But I’m out here in athletic shorts and a tank top, having slipped away from the house for a jog through the woods to clear my head. I made it to the shelter before it started raining, and I decided to play it safe and wait out the storm in the picnic shelter. There were a few families here, rushing to gather their belongings and get out before the storm hit.

They were roasting hotdogs over the fire and didn’t bother to put out the flames as they ran out. I’d been sitting here poking at the fire when I saw someone come out of the woods. There are a few more logs left to toss into the fire, and right now Chloe might be thankful for that. The heat of the day got washed away with the rain, and the constant wind is making even me a little cold, and I’m not soaking wet from the cold rain.

Chloe reaches up, moving several strands of wet hair that are stuck to her forehead, and continues to stare at me, unmoving. For a second, I think maybe she doesn’t recognize me anymore. It’s been years, and the memory of the last time I laid eyes on Chloe is burned in my memory.

Did that memory fade for her?

“Chloe,” I say again, and those two syllables come out breathy, awakening something inside of me. Something I need to promptly fall right back to sleep. She slowly steps forward and regret weighs heavily on my chest.

“Sam,” she finally replies, inching in. “It’s…it’s been a while.”

“It has.” I don’t realize I’m walking closer until misty rain blows in, dampening my face. Goosebumps break out on Chloe’s arms, and her pert nipples become even more obvious beneath the thin fabric of her shirt. “You look good.”