His Unwilling Muse

Chapter 17: Reconciliation

Right now I'm supposed to be overjoyed with the knowledge that I have overcome my inability to improvise in front of people. Yet here I am sitting on the stone bench and overlooking the empty spot where Nate has held so many of his street performances.

And he is to blame for it all.

He is the reason why I managed to improvise on that stage less than half an hour ago. But at the same time he's also the reason why my shoulders are hanging low and why my usually sturdy appetite is miles away today.

Damn him and his violin.

As I'm looking at the familiar spot, I can almost imagine the way he proudly stood in the sunlight, and hear the different melodies which managed to pass through my barrier of hip hop music. I can't believe it has been only a month since I first saw him play here. Especially since my life now seems so different.

A loud boom of thunder pulls me from my dark thoughts and I turn my face toward the sky. A thick gray layer is peeking from the treetops; a layer I haven't even noticed until now.

As if on cue, a small drop lands on my forehead and then slowly slips down the side of my face. Instead of wiping away the trail the drop left, I continue to look up into the moody sky. More drops land on my upturned face and it soon turns into a soft drizzle.

A few heartbeats later, I finally turn my face to the ground, so the rain can't get into my eyes. Yet I don't move from my spot on the stone bench. I don't even bother to search for the umbrella I know is inside my backpack.

I continue to sit there, allowing the rain to wash me away. I hate being this affected by someone else, but no matter how many times I tell myself it doesn't matter, my heart knows it isn't true.

"Violet!"

At the loud shout I snap my head down the promenade to find Nate hurrying toward me. His hair and shoulders are already drenched, just like mine. Like I, he doesn't use anything to protect himself from the rain.

"What are you doing?" He stops long enough to grab my arm and then pulls me underneath the nearest tree. "Why are you sitting in the rain? Do you want to catch your death?"

Before I can remind him that people don't die of colds, at least not here, he shrugs off his dress jacket. He pulls my backpack off my shoulders and then wraps the jacket around me.

The rain thickens, which allows more and more drops to slip past the leaves above us and land onto our heads and clothing. Nate glances around, looking for the nearest shelter, while I turn my eyes down to my backpack now resting in his hands.

"I have an umbrella in there."

Nate snaps his eyes down to my backpack and then immediately unzips it. Much faster than it normally takes me to find anything inside the backpack, he pulls out the light blue umbrella and opens it.

I expect him to insist on holding the umbrella over me, while he would claim that he doesn't mind getting wet. Instead, he slings my backpack over his shoulder and uses his free arm to wrap it around my lower back. With one swift pull he tugs me almost flush against his body; close enough to fit both of us under the small dry circle underneath the umbrella.

Drops of rain are still sliding down his forehead from his wet hair, just like I can feel them do to my own forehead. While I resist the urge to wipe the drops off his skin, he brushes the wet strays off my face and then wraps his arm back around my lower back.

"What were you thinking?" He is standing close enough so that his breath caresses my nose. "Why didn't you use the umbrella the moment it started to rain?"