Rain's POV:
"So what do you want to do all day?" he asks, eyes still on the road.
The question hangs there longer than it should.
We're on our way home.
The words register slowly, like they have to pass through layers before they mean anything.
Home implies a plan.
A shape to the day.
I try to line that up with everything that's happened and come up empty.
My head throbs, dull and persistent.
Hunger, probably.
I haven't eaten properly in over a day, but the thought of food feels abstract, like something meant for someone else.
My body is present, technically, but my mind keeps drifting just out of reach.
I don't answer him.
I don't even realize he's waiting.
His hand then settles on my thigh.
There's a brief, traitorous flare of warmth, a low hum under my skin that spreads before I can decide whether I like it or not.
The sensation catches me off guard.
I stiffen, the reaction immediate and uninvited.
