moments ♡

rain ♡

It was raining.

She wasn't wild about rain, but he loved it. He laid on the couch facing the open window with his well-worn copy of The Hobbit. His eyes made a continuous circuit - first to a page in his book, next to the weather, and finally to his girl, who was sitting on the floor next to him with books, notes, and pens spread everywhere.

Her eyes made a tighter circuit. She read a little, made some notes, and then studied her favorite subject - her handsome man. He laid all stretched out, chewing on his lip and running his fingers through his hair unconsciously. These were the times she was so attracted to him; he was so sexy, even fully clothed and without even trying.

The idea hit her all at once, and she hopped off the floor, grabbing his hand and dragging him across the room. "What are you doing?" His tone was both confused and amused, as was the smirk on his face. Thunder rumbled, very low and tender, as she paused at the back door.

He grinned and kissed her on the forehead once he'd met her eyes and realized her intentions. She held his hands and smiled up at him. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He'd been trying to talk her into it for awhile, and his eyes were so bright.

She lifted his knuckles to her lips, pressing soft kisses to each one. His cheeks flushed a lovely shade as she released his hands.

She opened the door and ran into the warm summer rain before she could change her mind. He followed, catching up with her easily and reaching out to twine his fingers through hers.

They ran barefoot across the wet grass, whooping and squealing like kids. She met his broad smile with one of her own, leading them to an open area near the back of their yard.

He untwined their hands and turned to face her with a grin. He bowed and gallantly offered his hand to her. "May I have this dance, m'lady?"

She giggled with a curtsy. "It would be a pleasure, kind sir."

He pulled her into hold, loving the way her body fit against his and the way her fingertips traced the ridges of his shoulder. He foxtrotted her all around the yard to the rhythm of distant thunder and pure, unadulterated happiness.

Internally, he blessed her for insisting that they take ballroom dance lessons before their wedding, though he'd never tell her that.

They did break a few traditional foxtrot rules, though. He held her completely against himself instead of creating the proper space that neither of them particularly wanted, and neither of them could avert their eyes from the other. He adored the way she was smiling at him, and she was positively silly over those wrinkles that formed at the corners of his eyes when he smiled back.

The dance ended suddenly when his heel found a particularly slick spot on the grass and he slipped grandly, legs flailing, with her still firmly in his arms. He landed hard on his rump, laughing so hard that no noise came out. She pulled him down to lie on the grass beside her. They were both soaked and covered in mud and little bits of grass, laughing so hard it hurt and then laughing more.

"I love you." She was breathless and giddy and completely enamored.

He rolled onto his side and hovered over her, looking like the most beautiful drowned rat she'd ever seen. There was grass in his hair and mud on his shirt and rainwater dripping from his beard. "I love you."

All at once, he stood. He shook out his hair and beard, trying to dislodge stray grass and leaves before offering his hand to help her up and back into his arms. She couldn't stop smiling.

"What if I kiss you?" He was grinning at the idea. "Right here? In the rain?"

She rolled her eyes, but the smile didn't budge. "What is this, a Nicholas Sparks novel?"

He shook his head and pulled her close. "Better." And he kissed her. He put his long hands on either side of her face, and he kissed her long and passionate and thorough and laden with adoration. Her lips were sweet with rainwater, and her arms held him as tightly as her strength would allow.

This felt like a romance movie - this hot, heavy, relentless kiss in the gentle summer shower. It was so cliché, but the man she loved was close to her and touching her and making her feel very loved and desired. She was powerless to do anything but melt completely into him and try to keep up.

And this was nothing like a romance movie, she decided. Those had a nice, tidy plot that could fit in two hours or less and make millions...

He was kissing her in cutoff shorts in the mud. Midterms started tomorrow. There were still dishes to do. They'd probably get a cold from making out in the rain.

But this was, indeed, better than any romance a writer could dream up. It was messy. It was real. It was fun. It was ridiculous. It was warm and sticky and silly and stressful and loud...

and it was the truest definition of forever.

Author's Note:
I literally couldn't stop smiling writing this. I love it so much! I hope you do, too! Vote and comment and always follow your heart, but be sure to bring your head with you. Love you! ♡