The rain was unforgiving that night.
It hammered the windows of The Nook—a quiet little bookstore tucked between a closed florist and an even deader café in Brooklyn. Most people had already rushed home or ducked under awnings. But Elise Carter stayed, her soaked jacket clinging to her skin, the hood halfway down her damp hair. She wasn't there for a book.
She was hiding.
From what, she couldn't even say. The silence? The disappointment of another ghosted text? The weight of being thirty-two, alone, and pretending it didn't sting?
She stood in the back, flipping through a paperback she didn't even register, trying to keep her hands from trembling. Something about the way that day had unfolded left her on edge. The subway had glitched. Her umbrella had broken. Her date had canceled last minute—again—with a lazy "Rain sucks, let's reschedule :)"
He didn't reschedule. He unmatched her.
Elise sighed and shoved the book back on the shelf, just as the door creaked open behind her.
She didn't turn. She didn't care who it was. Probably some hipster grabbing a poetry book to impress someone.
Until she heard the voice.
"Nothing like rain to make even bad books sound profound."
The voice was rich—deep, warm, self-assured. And close.
She glanced sideways and saw him. He stood tall, umbrella dripping on the mat, a black coat framing his figure like a well-pressed shadow. Hair a little damp, swept back. Not overly styled. Sharp jaw. Watchful eyes.
He wasn't just handsome.
He was memorable.
Elise blinked, caught off guard.
"Excuse me?" she asked, carefully.
He smiled, soft but certain. "You picked up The Murmuring Season. Not exactly a literary gem."
She looked at the spine. She had picked it up—absently.
"You know that one?"
He stepped forward, brows lifted. "Unfortunately. Dated someone who loved it. Tried to read it to impress her. Got to chapter two and realized I'd rather jump into traffic."
Elise laughed—short, a little surprised.
"So you judge people based on their book taste?"
"I only judge myself. For trying too hard."
There was a pause. Then Elise nodded. "Fair."
She should've walked away. She usually did. But something about him—the easy confidence, the dry wit, the way he looked at her like he saw her, not just her face—made her linger.
He walked toward the shelf beside her and picked up another title.
"This one's better. The Hollow Mind. Still trashy, but the kind that keeps you up till 3am."
She took the book from him without thinking. Their fingers brushed.
He smiled again.
She looked down. "I like being up at 3am. Makes me feel like I'm in on a secret."
"And what secret is that?"
"That everything gets quieter when the world's asleep."
The man tilted his head, as if considering her words more seriously than anyone ever had.
"I'm Adrian," he said. "Adrian Black."
"Elise," she replied. "Elise Carter."
"Nice to meet you, Elise Carter."
They stood there for a beat too long. Her pulse was quick. He was still watching her—not staring, not leering, just... watching. Like he was reading between her lines.
"Do you live nearby?" he asked.
Her lips parted. "Why?"
He shrugged. "It's pouring. I don't want to be responsible for letting you leave and drown in the gutter."
She smirked. "Wow. That line's not creepy at all."
He chuckled. "Not trying to be. Just polite. Or maybe bold. Depends how you read it."
Elise hesitated. Then she said, "I live two blocks away. I'll survive."
He nodded. "Then I'll walk you out. You seem like the kind of person who reads true crime and imagines getting kidnapped on the way home."
She raised a brow. "I write true crime."
Adrian blinked. "Really?"
"Freelancer. I pitch articles, mostly. Hoping to write a book one day."
"Then this moment," he said, stepping aside to let her lead, "is either fate... or your first chapter."
The door chimed as they stepped into the storm together.
"God, it's really coming down," she said, holding her arms up as rain drenched her again.
Adrian flipped open his umbrella and offered it to her.
"Walk with me."
She stared. "That's your umbrella."
"You can share it," he said. "I'm not made of sugar."
She took a step under it, brushing against him. He didn't move away.
His cologne was warm, cedar and something darker underneath.
As they walked, their steps found rhythm. She talked. He listened.
He told her he owned a small media company, mostly marketing and digital branding. "Boring," he said, "but stable." He didn't push too hard with questions. Didn't brag. Just... flowed.
By the time they reached her building, her heart felt lighter than it had in weeks.
She turned to him under the awning, the rain blurring everything beyond their small space.
"Thank you," she said. "For not being weird."
He smiled. "It's a skill."
"Seriously, though. This was nice. Random. But nice."
"I'd like to do it again," he said, eyes on her, not blinking. "Soon."
Elise hesitated. Her mind screamed no. It always did. Because things like this didn't work. Not for her.
But her heart whispered maybe.
She nodded. "Sure."
Adrian reached into his coat, pulled out his phone. "Give me your number."
She did.
He smiled as he typed it in, then texted her immediately.
His message: "Still raining. Still worth it."
She laughed. "Corny."
He grinned. "I know."
He didn't try to kiss her. Just turned, umbrella raised, and said, "Goodnight, Elise Carter."
And walked away.
She watched him disappear into the downpour. Her hands were shaking again, but not from fear this time.
From adrenaline.
Maybe she'd write about this.
Maybe she'd write about him.
She didn't know it yet, but she'd already started.