17
Larkin
I race through the driving, stinging rain, desperately clinging to Charlie’s hoodie. It protected me at first, but it is quickly becoming sodden and heavy.
Charlie gets to my porch first, his heavy footsteps audible. I follow him, my heart going far too fast. I push the hood of Charlie’s jacket off my head and get the keys out.
“That was ridiculous,” Charlie mumbles. “It was practically biblical.”
I try not to look at him for too long. With his shirt soaking wet and his hair slicked, he looks like a friggin s*x god. I get the door open, though I am trembling. Partially from the fact that I’m freezing… but part of it is nerves, I’m sure.
After all, Charlie is here. And he’s wet. And he’s looking at me with a very intent expression…
I open the door, and the dogs all come tum
