M A D I E

October Twenty-Sixth

One

How do you know when something is real?

Is it enough to touch it, to hear it, to see it?

Or maybe you just have to feel it?

—

The words flew out before I could stop them. I could blame it on Beau's tequila, but I knew it was more than that. And shit, I wished I could blame it on wanting some kind of revenge on Quinton, but I knew it was more than that, too.

No, I'd thought for a split second that Bren was going to kiss me, and then he didn't. And I wanted to know why.

Bren's eyelids fluttered closed momentarily. When he opened them, the softness I usually saw there had hardened, glittering like moonstone in the night.

"Madie." His voice was strained and apologetic, and I braced myself to hear the stinging truth. But his response was simple. "Don't ask me that question."

"Why not?" I retorted, and this time I was sure that the alcohol was fueling my confidence.

He gave a quick shake of his head. "Come here." 

Gently grasping my elbow, Bren led me back toward campus. I didn't argue, darting through the intersection behind him. The history building was within view, and Bren strode quickly toward it, pulling us beneath the awning to escape the chilling rain.

I leaned against the brick wall of McLaren Hall, feeling it prickle through my wet clothes. The rough surface caught on my hair, but it didn't matter. My hair was already tangled and plastered to my face. I was a mess.

Bren, on the other hand, somehow pulled off the rainy, wet look. His black hoodie was soaked through, clinging to his lightly muscled arms as he paced near the waterfall that rolled down from the roof.

"It's not that simple, Madie," he finally said without looking at me. He kicked at a puddle.

"How is it not that simple?" I pushed wet hair out of my eyes. "Would you or would you not kiss me?"

"I mean, it isn't as simple as pretending you don't have a boyfriend." In a quick movement, Bren shucked his hood down and ran a hand through his messy brown hair. "I've got demons of my own. I'm a disaster inside, Madie."

My brows furrowed. We were all a little disastrous, weren't we? "Your demons didn't get in the way of hooking up with Nessa." Maybe it was insensitive, but I didn't care at the moment.

Bren released a humorless laugh as he stalked toward me, leaning his hand on the brick above my right shoulder. Moisture clung to his thick lashes, darkening them to bring out the black flecks in his eyes. They pressed down against his cheeks for a moment.

"I hooked up with Nessa once," he said in a low voice. "I kissed Nessa once."

I was still confused. "But that's all I'm asking, Bren. Would you have kissed me, just this one time?"

Bren's eyes flashed up, meeting mine with a cold glare, and I knew exactly what he was going to say.

"No."

I didn't know what I'd been expecting, but to hear such a flat denial was undeniably painful. A shiver ran through me, accompanying the stab of rejection.

But then Bren bent his head closer to mine. Pain filled his own expression, leaking into his gaze. Behind him, rain beat against the pavement. It splashed as it hit the ground, steadily spraying our feet. Bren's shoes, in particular, must have been soaked. But he didn't seem to notice.

His other hand flew up, bracing against the brick wall as he caged me between his arms. Bren swore under his breath before groaning my name.

"No, because that's the problem," he breathed. "If I could—fuck." He broke off and ran a hand over his face. I felt the loss of his eye contact. But then I felt something even stronger when his gaze pierced me again, his hand leaving his face to slap back against the wall. He spoke in a low voice that had me leaning toward his warmth. "If it were up to me, I wouldn't just kiss you once, Madie. I'd kiss you every goddamn day."

The words sat between us, absorbing into the humid air. I blinked up at him as my lips parted, shocked by his declaration. Meanwhile, my heart beat loudly, wildly. I hadn't suspected. Or maybe I'd just never allowed myself to suspect what was behind his kindness.

Finally, he jerked back. Despite his intense stare, Bren stepped away from the brick wall—away from me. Water dripped from the tips of his hair, rolling over his sharp cheekbone to the corner of his mouth. A pebble of moisture rested on his lips until he licked it away.

His eyes never left mine.

I didn't know how to believe what he was saying, but I thought I knew how to believe the look in his eyes.

Tentatively, he moved toward me again. Tilting his head forward, he touched his hairline to mine. His large hand slid over my wet skin, cupping my cheek. By this point, our mouths were mere inches apart, and his warm breath fanned across cool, delicate flesh. My eyelids fluttered as I got lost in this moment, in this boy.

"But I can't," he whispered before groaning softly. "So I'm telling you this so that you understand."

I opened my eyes, blinking away the rain. "Understand?"

"That you are wanted, Madie." He spoke in a hot, husky murmur, raising gooseflesh on my arms. "That you deserve to be kissed. And not just in a shitty frat house because of a stupid dare."

I felt his words. I felt them breaking through barriers I didn't know I had. They were almost enough of a caress on my skin. But I couldn't help but desire the feel of something more tangible than words.

"Believe it," he whispered across my lips. It was an intoxicating mix of tequila and rain and...Bren. "Please believe it."

"I'm trying, Bren."

I was. For the past week, I'd been holed away, wondering if I needed to walk away from my childhood love before he broke my mind and body beyond repair. I wondered how to do it, and I wondered if leaving would break me more than staying.

A shiver ran down my spine, and Bren pulled away abruptly. He held out his hand for the second time that night.

"Let's get you back. It's too cold out here."

I didn't hesitate, seizing his hand, surprised at how warm his skin was. Bren tugged me away from the brick building and toward the wall of rain that separated our dry little haven from the rest of the pouring world.

Neither of us wanted to step over the threshold. I didn't know what it was for him, but I knew I wasn't ready to go back to drowning.

Bren didn't give me much choice in the matter, though, as he dragged me into the sky's showers. He pulled me all the way back to my room, not speaking once. Once we reached my door, he turned away with a stiff nod, leaving me there. I resisted the urge to stop him and instead just watched as he trudged down the hallway, dripping wet.

But then he stopped. His head was tucked, and I heard the faint swear word beneath his breath. With a sigh, Bren spun back around.

"I just checked my phone." He grimaced. "Beau texted not to come back to the room. He has company."

I swallowed. "You can wait in my room."

"Thanks, but I have to find some dry clothes, too."

"I can find you something," I offered. "It's my fault, anyway. I was the one who ran out into the rain." I tried to smile, but it was useless.

"Madie, I'm cold as fuck, but I'm not gonna wear Quinton's clothes."

Bren was awfully blunt tonight. I always knew that he wasn't a fan of Quinton, but it wasn't until the past few hours that I realized its extent. The expression on his face said it all.

"I have some old soccer shorts and sweatshirts, Bren. They're oversized. Something will probably fit you."

He looked skeptical. "Alright. But first, I've gotta roll through the showers to warm up. Otherwise, I think I'm going to lose some toes. Can I borrow a towel?"

I stepped inside, grabbing one of my white towels from the hook on the closet door. Throwing it to him, I smiled shyly. "I'm going to dry off and warm up too, and then I'll find you some clothes."

"Thanks, Mads." He gave me a small smile. But it made me freeze, turning my insides colder than the rain had.

"Don't call me that," I snapped.

His smile fell, flooding me with guilt.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I'll be back in a bit."

He turned away and bent his head down once more. I called out to him. "Bren?"

His face, accompanied by an adorable lift of his brow and twitch of his lips, peered back at me. "Madie?"

Closing the distance between us, I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck. "Thank you," I whispered.

He hugged me back.

The embrace was soft and wet, but it was perfect, too. Because it should have been cold—a colliding of sopping clothes and frigid limbs—and yet, I'd never felt so warm.

—

October Twenty-Sixth

Four

It don't know what it is

But I know

that I feel it.

🖤
Well, then.
Let's see how this goes.
Xoxo