It rained again.
Not soft rain. Not poetic rain. Just cold, loud, and relentless.
I was halfway home when I heard footsteps behind me.
"Seriously?" I said without turning.
Chase's voice replied, "You walk like you want to get kidnapped."
I turned to glare at him. "I'm not your problem."
"No," he said. "But you're mine."
We didn't talk after that. Just walked.
When we reached the porch, thunder cracked.
I stopped. "Maybe I should go back to my place tonight."
He looked at me. Then reached over and pulled my hood up.
"You're already home."
I wanted to argue.
But I didn't.