Harvey was forecasted for the weekend. Most people canceled their plans.
Leyah made one.
---
She called Harvey at 5:32 p.m. sharp.
"Bring an umbrella," she said. "But don't use it."
Click.
He sighed and looked out the window. Thick clouds rolled in like waves. It hadn't started yet—but it would.
She met him in the empty park near the school, spinning barefoot on the concrete with a speaker in her hand and her shoes tied around her neck.
"Leyah," he said, "are you trying to catch a cold?"
"I'm trying to catch a moment," she grinned.
Then, as if cued by her words, the rain began.
Soft at first—like a whisper. Then louder. Bolder. Rain spilled from the sky like it had been holding back for days.
And Leyah raised her arms and laughed.
Harvey stood frozen. Watching. Listening. Feeling.
She grabbed his wrist. "Don't just stand there! It's number three!"
He let himself be pulled into the storm.
They danced.
Clumsy. Wet. Silly. Beautiful.
She played an old love song on the speaker, twirling under the streetlights while puddles formed beneath their feet. Harvey didn't know how to dance, not really—but it didn't matter.
Leyah was radiant. And for a moment, nothing else existed.
Just rain, laughter, and music.
---
When the song faded, they collapsed on a bench, soaked and breathless.
Leyah tilted her head back, rain sliding down her cheeks like tears she didn't have to shed.
"I've always wanted to dance like no one's watching," she said. "Turns out, dancing with someone is better."
Harvey wrung out his sleeves. "You're insane."
She looked at him sideways. "You keep saying that, but you keep showing up."
He didn't reply. Couldn't.
"Number three—check." She drew an invisible line in the air. "I think we'll hit all ten at this rate."
Harvey hesitated. "What happens after that?"
She looked at him, smile fading just a little. "Then I go wherever people go when the list ends."
He hated how easily she said it. Like she wasn't afraid.
But maybe… she was. And this was how she fought it.
"I'll add a number eleven," he said suddenly.
She blinked. "Oh?"
"Just… something small."
"What is it?"
He looked away. "You'll see."
Leyah grinned.
Rain still fell, soft now—like applause fading into memory.