There's a crack of thunder before the rain starts pouring, like the sky is tearing open. I groan, stepping back into the shelter of the Sixth Form entrance. In my arms is a folder full of handwritten notes, which will inevitably be ruined in this weather. The twenty minute walk home has never seemed less appealing.
I'm about to brave it and head out when I hear your voice behind me. I feel my cheeks heat up. This is the first time we've had a chance to talk since the party ten days ago.
"Lovely weather, isn't it?" you say casually, coming to stand beside me.
"Yeah, perfect for walking home in," I scoff.
You glance across at me and I can't help but look at you as you grin. "Want a lift?"
I frown. "Unless you learned and passed your test in the last two weeks since you turned seventeen, you can't drive."
"What can I say? Clearly I'm just very advanced," you reply in a tone that makes me wonder if you're flirting.
"Yeah, right."
"Seriously, though, do you want a lift? My Dad's picking me up."
My eyes dart from the rain, which pours down in sheets, to your face. The answer is easy. "Sure, that would be good, thanks."
"Ready to make a run for it?" you ask, eyes glittering mischeviously.
Before I have time to answer, you reach across and grab my free hand. My heart surges as you pull me forwards. Suddenly, we're running across the carpark towards your Dad's car, the rain soaking us both.
This has to mean something, I think. First the almost-kiss and now you're holding my hand. You like me, surely.
When we skid to halt at the car and you turn to face me, eyes bright and wet hair plastered to your forehead, I'm overcome with a desperate urge to kiss you. But you drop my hand and your Dad's waiting in the car, so I fight back the thought.
The kiss didn't happen ten days ago and it won't happen today, but it is inevitable, this I am sure of.
