The rain hadn't stopped.
It had softened—turned into something quieter, gentler—but it was still there, falling steadily around us like the world had decided to blur everything else out.
Except her.
Tamika stood right in front of me, close enough that I could see the tiny droplets clinging to her eyelashes, the way her breath hitched just slightly every time I moved.
"You should go," she said softly.
But she didn't step back.
"I don't want to," I replied.
And that was the problem.
Because I meant it.
Her eyes searched mine, like she was looking for something—something deeper than just the words I said.
"You don't understand," she whispered.
"Then help me understand," I said, my voice sharper than I intended.
Something flickered across her face.
Pain.
Gone just as quickly as it appeared.
"It's not that simple."
"It never is with you," I muttered.
That made her flinch.
And immediately, I regretted it.
"Tamika—"
"Don't," she said quickly, shaking her head. "Just… don't."
Silence fell between us again, heavier this time.
The kind that said too much without saying anything at all.
I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated.
"Everyone keeps acting like there's something I'm missing," I said. "Like I'm the only one who doesn't know what's going on."
Her gaze dropped.
"You're not supposed to know."
That.
That right there.
That was what snapped something inside me.
"Why?" I demanded. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"
She didn't answer.
Of course she didn't.
"Was I there?" I asked, stepping closer. "Whatever happened—was I part of it?"
Her breathing hitched.
"Felix…"
"Because it feels like I was," I continued, my voice lower now. "Like I'm standing in the middle of something I should remember—but I don't."
Another step.
Now there was barely any space left between us.
"I hate it," I said quietly.
Her eyes lifted to mine again.
And for a moment—
Everything else disappeared.
"You think I don't?" she whispered.
That caught me off guard.
"What?"
"You think I don't hate it?" she repeated, her voice trembling now. "You think this is easy for me?"
I stared at her.
Really stared this time.
And suddenly, all the teasing, all the mystery—
It didn't matter.
Because underneath all of it—
She was hurting.
Badly.
"Then tell me," I said softly.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because if I do…" she hesitated, her voice barely audible now, "everything changes."
My heart pounded.
"It already has."
Another pause.
Another moment where it felt like the world was holding its breath.
And then—
She stepped closer.
So close I could feel the warmth of her through the cold rain.
"Felix…" she whispered.
The way she said my name—
It wasn't just soft.
It was familiar.
Like she had said it a thousand times before.
And somehow—
That scared me more than anything.
My hand moved before I could stop it, brushing lightly against hers.
She didn't pull away.
Instead, her fingers curled slightly, like she was holding onto that moment.
Like she didn't want it to end.
Neither did I.
Slowly—
Carefully—
I leaned in.
And this time—
She didn't stop me.
Her breath caught.
So did mine.
We were so close now—
Just inches.
Seconds.
One more movement—
And—
"Tamika!"
We both froze.
Her eyes widened.
I pulled back instantly, turning toward the voice.
Adrian.
Of course it was him.
Standing a few feet away, completely soaked, his expression dark.
"This is what you meant by 'working on a project'?" he asked, his tone sharp.
Tamika stepped away from me immediately.
Like the moment had never happened.
"It's not what it looks like," she said.
"Really?" Adrian let out a humorless laugh. "Because it looks pretty clear to me."
I clenched my jaw.
"You don't get to decide that," I said.
His gaze snapped to me.
"And you don't get to pretend you understand anything here."
Something about the way he said that—
It hit harder than it should have.
"Then explain it," I shot back. "Since you seem to know everything."
Silence.
Tension.
Then Adrian shook his head, almost like he was disappointed.
"You really don't remember," he said quietly.
"I wouldn't be asking if I did."
He studied me for a moment.
Then his gaze shifted to Tamika.
"This is exactly what I warned you about."
Her expression hardened.
"Stop."
"No," he said firmly. "You don't get to ignore this anymore."
"Adrian—"
"He's already getting close," he continued, cutting her off. "Closer than he should be."
"I can handle it."
"Can you?" he challenged. "Because it doesn't look like it."
Silence.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Then he looked back at me.
"If you were smart," he said, "you'd walk away now."
I scoffed. "Yeah, that's not happening."
His expression didn't change.
"It will," he said calmly. "One way or another."
Something about that—
It didn't sound like a warning.
It sounded like a promise.
And for the first time—
I realized this wasn't just about confusion anymore.
This was something bigger.
Something dangerous.
And somehow—
I was right in the middle of it.