Archive of Our Own

She’s standing under the overhang by the east entrance, talking on her cell, a finger pressed to her other ear blocking out the constant rush of rain. He hears the disappointment, feels the sting of parental abandonment bouncing around in her head.

She hangs up, and he moves smoothly between the groups of laughing girls and preening boys.

“Do you need a ride?”

Angela won’t look at him, but he knows she’s confused and flattered and relieved. She just wants him to keep talking, to keep that voice washing over her.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t…” They’re all staring and it makes her blush.

“It’s not a problem.” He jangles his keys nonchalantly. She lives on the other side of town, but he wishes it was farther. He wishes he could tell her that their bookshelves could pass for fraternal twins and that he tastes her lunch with her every day. That her mind is the most beautiful place he knows.

They’re walking across the parking lot, huddled together under his umbrella. She’s babbling about her philosophy homework and he’s listening to her breathing.

Suddenly she stops and looks at him.

“Thanks.”

He's startled to find that he said it.