Rain beats down on us.
“It’s cold!”
“And wet!” Chase yells.
I laugh, rain rushing over my face.
Chase shakes his head like a dog, streams of water flying at his gesture.
I hold up my arms, and he steps into my space. We embrace as if we’re about to dance.
Because we are. About to dance, that is. I look up at him.
“This is ridiculous. Olivia Evans, you’re impossible.”
“Shut up and twirl me like you do in the movie.”
The Wanderers is a sci-fi thriller with a group of time-jumping heroes. One of the movie’s most iconic scenes is at the end of the film, after the bad guys are banished to the outer regions of space forever, Chase dances in the rain with Cassidy Reynolds and professes his undying love. The scene melted a million girls’ hearts and catapulted Chase to maximum heartthrob status.
In that movie moment, every girl wanted to be Cassidy. And every girl wanted to be in Chase’s arms, or at least his character’s.
And here I am, reenacting it. The idea for the dare was one-third wish fulfillment, one-third mischievous glee, and one-third to give me the chance to be in his arms, any way I can.
He twirls me as demanded, and I tilt my head up toward the dark gray sky. He leans down, blocking the rain, gathers me in those muscled arms of his, and sways with me.
I’m short enough that I have to stand on my tiptoes and he has to bend down. I close my eyes and memorize every sensation. The cold slick of rain. The heat coming off Chase’s body. It feels as if we’re all alone in the world.
“Thank you,” he says.
“For what?”
“For this,” he says simply, and then his lips meet mine.
It’s a sweeping brush of a kiss. A butterfly that touches down before flying away. It sends an electric wave through my body.
I long. Long for his lips to come back to me. Long for more than the briefest taste of heaven. But I already pushed myself so far out of my comfort zone, I don’t dare ask for more. He tucks my head back into the safety of his chest and holds me as if I’m precious to him. As if he longs for me as well.
I sway in time with him and memorize the feel of his body, never wanting this to end.
But it’s cold and wet, and we probably look crazy, so with a flourish, he twirls me one last time, and then we’re running back under the awning of the hotel, laughing and dripping, his hand in mine.
His eyelashes gleam with water droplets, making his already-long lashes even more so. He grabs me and twirls me again, this time out of the rain. Our eyes hold, and something sweet and desperate cuts through me, the fierce desire to hold fast to this moment, as pointless as trying to catch the wind.
“Olivia,” Chase rasps.
I shudder—not from the icy hand of San Francisco’s weather, but from the sound of my name coming from this man.
“Shit, you’re freezing,” he says, his lips pressing tight. “We’d better go back inside.”
Is it my imagination, or did he sound disappointed?
I gather my hair and wring it out, water streaming from the long strands.
“Are they going to let us back into the hotel?” I ask. “I mean, look at us, we’re soaked.”
“I am looking at you. And you look damn good from where I’m standing. Just walk in with confidence, and they won’t say a word,” Chase says, leaning in toward me to be heard over the rain. My pulse races at the way his warm breath tickles my ear. “They expect wild shit from actors. A little water in the lobby is tame, all things considered. It’ll give them something to talk about today.”
He grasps my hand and leads me with brash confidence through the doors of the hotel. The well-trained staff pretend to ignore us as we speed walk through the lobby to the elevator, sopping wet and laughing the entire way, but I see their furtive glances.
As we wait for the elevator, a maid approaches us. At first, I think she might be about to kick us out, but instead, she shyly offers us two towels. Chase gifts her with his signature grin and murmurs, “Thank you.” Her eyes go so wide I fear they might pop from her head.
“Oh, sir,” the pretty girl gushes. “We watched the two of you dancing in the street. It’s just like your movie. We were all smiling and sighing. Even Ms. Ballister, who never smiles at anything.” She turns to me. “You’re so lucky,” she says with a dreamy, lovestruck look in her eye.
The elevator dings. I thank the girl for the towel, trying my best to wipe away the water that clings to me. After drying himself quickly, Chase passes me his towel as well and wraps it around my shoulders.