Rain Falls in Eden

“What the fuck?” I asked myself, as I got into the elevator and hit the ground floor.

It was drizzling out when I stepped out of the complex, pocketing my key. I took a seat on a raised stone block at the bottom of the stars, and pulled out my phone. I used its light to read the number on my hand, then dialed it.

It rang a few times. “Lost already, love?” came Sebastian’s British accent. I didn’t even bother asking how he knew it was me.

“No, actually,” I said, somewhat proud of that fact. “I just need someone to talk to.”

So talk we did. And not only Sebastian and I, for Kalila got on another phone and spoke too.

What I loved about our conversation that night was that I hardly had to talk. They told me all about themselves. How they’d grown up together. How Sebastian was outcasted because of his sexuality, and Kalila because she was a tomboy. I rolled my eyes. People were so intolerantly dumb sometimes. They’d become good friends at a young age, went to the same college, and now lived together. What a Will and Grace remake. I sat there listening, smiling, laughing, frowning. They didn’t ask me about Ryan, and I didn’t offer anything up.

They reminded me so much of a relationship I once had, that a sinking feeling developed in the pit of my stomach, and I told them I had to go. I pocketed my slightly wet phone and slid off the block in favor of leaning against it, staring out down the streets. Though it was raining harder, and I was pretty wet because of it, I felt better. I loved Hannah and Amanda, sure, but it was nice to hear stories that I wasn’t there to experience, to not even have to have a real connection with any of it.

A car blaring music rolled by, and when the noise faded, the atmosphere was twice as quiet. The rain, however, brought a peaceful remedy that my ears opened for and listened to.

“I met this guy today,” came a voice behind me. I turned my head, watching warily as Ryan walked slowly down the steps. He didn’t look mad at all. Instead, he looked....guilty? He came to stand in front of me, giving me about two feet of space. “He was a real asshole,” he continued, an apologetic smile on his face.

“Oh yeah?” I asked, looking him in the eye.

“Yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “See, this girl he knows had this number written on her hand from some guy.”

I tried to fight a smile. “And why would that make him an asshole?”

He looked up at the rain, then back at me, his person silhouetted against the lights from open stores. I could hardly make out his expression.

“I get jealous, sometimes,” he told me, breaking the cover of the metaphor.

I furrowed my brow, half a smile on my face. “Jealous?” I asked. “Sebastian is-“

”Gay, I know,” he said. I cocked my head, confused. “Hannah told me.”

I had to laugh a little. “You were jealous?” He didn’t deny it. I raised my eyebrows, surprised. “Why?”

But he didn’t answer, and, as he stepped closer, I could see his expression was suddenly serious. Though he had me backed against stone, I could easily slip off to the sides, but something had me rooted to the spot. Maybe it was the intensity of his eyes, as they got closer and closer, or maybe, just the subconscious wonder of "what happens next?"

His lips were on mine before I could even get another thought out. It took me a moment to respond to his gentle coaxing, and as soon as I did, the kiss grew in intensity. He put his hands on my waist, drawing me closer, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He ran his tongue along my upper lip and I parted them slightly, allowing him to deepen it. I’d become so accustomed to his scent over these past several weeks, but now it muffled my brain, drowning out all conscious thought, and I let out a shiver despite myself.

I couldn’t think. I was suffocating in his very presence, and I loved it. His hair felt like silk under my fingers, and while one hand was tangled in that, the other was tracing along his spine. His own hand ran under the back of my shirt, his calloused guitar fingers feeling out my back, and I sighed. God, I had to tell Cordy about this.

Suddenly, I broke off with a gasp, pushing him away. I stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, breathing heavy, my back to the block. He watched me through eyes darker than I remembered them being, breathing just as heavily. He looked like me, shaken, though without the startled look I wore on myself.

I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I slid out of the small space and bounded up the stairs, yanking open the doors quickly and speeding through the lobby.