Chapter 8

We didn't talk much, but at least I feel like I got through to him—just a little. Jake Lee is a tough nut to crack, and I've known that since day one. But I never would have guessed that behind the mysterious aura of that one photo I'd seen of him in the future was someone so...closed off, so hard to reach. In a strange way, I'm glad to see for myself what he's truly like, even if it's not what I imagined.

"Anyway..." His voice pulls me from my thoughts. He gets up, grabbing his guitar and holding his journal at his side, casually slinging it against his hip. "I'm probably gonna go home."

His words make me frown, even though I try not to let it show. I thought we were having a nice conversation—or something close to one, at least. But I get it; the school day ended a while ago, and here we were, still sitting up on the rooftop as if time doesn't matter.

I push myself up instantly, brushing out the back of my skirt, flustered. "O-oh, y-yeah, of course!"

I offer a small smile, and for a moment, I think I catch a faint smile from him in return. It's so quick I'm not even sure if it really happened. As he turns to walk away, he pauses and looks back over his shoulder. "You should get home too."

The words light me up more than I'd like to admit. He... cares? Jake Lee, of all people, actually thought to say something like that to me? My heart races as I open my mouth to respond, to maybe thank him for the concern—

But then he smirks, that same teasing glint back in his eyes. "Wouldn't want the nighttime school patrol to think you're a cow roaming the area."

I gasp, feeling my cheeks flush as I shoot him a glare. Of course. Here I was, foolishly thinking he was actually being considerate. I scowl, embarrassed at how easily he got me to think he might have cared. He just smirks wider, clearly amused by my reaction.

"Later." He says, effortlessly slinging his guitar over one shoulder. He strides out through the rooftop door without another word, leaving me standing there, still trying to shake off the flustered annoyance he's left me with.

I don't stay up on the roof much longer. Soon, I find myself on the school grounds, stepping out of the front gates with nowhere in particular to go. I don't even know if my mom went home; she probably already left.

As I walk along the sidewalk, I notice an older woman struggling with her trash can outside her house. The wind's gusting fiercely, and it knocks the bin off balance, sending it rolling into the street. Without thinking, I jog over to help her, picking up the bin and bringing it back to her.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" I ask, steadying the trash can as she tucks her windblown hair behind her ear.

She beams at me, a soft warmth in her eyes. "Thank you so much!" She glances around, her hair still whipping around her face in the relentless wind. "This wind, I tell you..."

I glance up at the darkening sky. "Yeah, it's really windy today."

The woman chuckles, brushing her hair behind her ear again. "Looks like it might rain soon." She says, holding her hand out as if to catch a raindrop. Then, with a glance back at me, she adds, "You should get home before it starts pouring!"

Her words sink in, making me feel a hollow pang. Home. Where am I supposed to go if the rain starts pouring down? Where am I going to sleep tonight if I have to find cover from the cold, relentless rain? The wind howls around me, swirling my hair into my face, and I glance back up at the sky, feeling the first hint of dampness in the air. The clouds are heavy, threatening, and I know it's only a matter of time before they open up.

I look back over at the woman. "Yeah, i'll-"

I'm about to finish my words and walk away when she suddenly looks over my shoulder, her gaze shifting. "You're only getting home now?" She calls out to someone.

A voice replies from behind me, smooth and familiar. "Yeah...had some work to do."

The voice sends a chill down my spine, and I freeze in place, my heart pounding. I know that voice. I'd know it anywhere.

Slowly, I turn around to see Jake Lee. He's got the same relaxed, unaffected look on his face as he pulls out his headphones, and I catch sight of his motorcycle parked just down the street. The wind must have been so loud that I didn't hear him pull up. I glance between him and the woman, noting the striking resemblance...

His gaze locks onto mine, his expression unreadable as he studies me. "What are you doing here?" He asks, his tone sharper than I'd hoped.

I swallow hard, feeling heat rise to my face. Now, more than ever, I must look like a stalker.

"Oh! I knew that uniform looked familiar!" The woman's face brightens, her voice cheerful as she looks over my school uniform. "You must be one of my son's schoolmates, hm?"

Son... The word echoes in my mind as I take in her youthful features. She looks barely over forty, with a warm smile and a soft, gentle demeanor that feels worlds apart from Jake's intense presence. This is Jake Lee's mother. My gaze drifts from her back to the house behind her—a sprawling, luxurious estate, towering with elegance. It's no wonder Jake stands out so much at school; he carries himself with the confidence that comes from a life of luxury and privilege.

Before I can gather myself enough to respond, Jake's sharp voice cuts through the moment. "I don't know her." He says coldly, not even sparing me a glance as he walks forward, his jaw set with a hardness I don't understand.

My eyes widen, his words like a slap, catching in my throat as I watch him brush past. His shoulder nearly grazes mine, and for an instant, I catch the scent of his cologne—a warm, woodsy blend that's distinctively him, overpowering even the gusty wind. But he doesn't slow down. He walks with a rigid determination, heading straight into the garage without a second glance, as if I'm just another stranger on the street.

"Oh, well..." His mother says awkwardly, glancing between us, clearly taken aback. The cheerful light in her eyes dims, and she looks at me, uncertain how to interpret his behavior.

Forcing myself to break out of my shock, I give her a quick, embarrassed smile to lighten the mood. "Y-yeah, I don't really know him either! It's a big school, you know?" My voice is overly bright, trying to cover the sting of his words. Pretend it doesn't bother you, I tell myself. It's just one of Jake's mood swings, another part of his impenetrable, unpredictable nature. He was practically friendly on the rooftop earlier, and now he acts as if I don't exist. I shouldn't let it affect me.

"I should...get going now!" I say, trying to escape before the humiliation settles in fully. But the second I turn to leave, a clap of thunder cracks through the sky like a warning shot, so loud that I flinch.

Jake's mother reaches out gently, resting her hand on my shoulder from behind in a kind, motherly gesture. "At least stay for dinner." She says, her voice soft and understanding. I can tell she doesn't want me to walk away into the approaching storm. She's offering me shelter, a kindness I'm familiar with from those who see someone in need. But I don't want to be a burden, especially not to Jake's family.

I take a deep breath, pulling together a cheerful facade as I look back at her, though my hands are shaking. "It's f-fine!" I assure her with a forced smile, pretending not to notice the thunder rumbling in the distance. "I don't live that far, actually!"

She raises a skeptical eyebrow, giving me a look that says she isn't buying it. "Really?" She glances down the empty street, then back at me, folding her arms with an amused but probing look. "So, that would mean you're somewhere in this neighborhood, then... But I've never seen you around here before."

I swallow hard, feeling a prickling heat rise to my face under her scrutiny. I've backed myself into a corner, and I can almost feel her piecing the situation together, leaving me with nowhere to go.

"And I know everyone here." She adds, her smile never fading, though there's a curiosity in her eyes that makes me squirm. She's not just being friendly—she's trying to figure me out.

Panic flutters in my chest, and I blurt out the first excuse that comes to mind. "I...my family actually just moved here last night!" I say with a laugh, hoping it sounds natural. It's the perfect lie, considering how Jake just claimed he didn't know me despite seeing me at school. Maybe she'll accept it and let me go.

But before she can respond, the clouds release a torrent of rain, the drops hitting with a stinging intensity. In seconds, I'm soaked. Without thinking, I pull my bag off my shoulder and hold it over my head to shield myself, though it barely helps. "Well, I should get going!" I call out over the downpour, not giving her another glance as I hurry off her driveway.

"Wait—but!" I hear her voice behind me, but I don't stop, my shoes slipping slightly on the rain-slick pavement as I run. Each raindrop feels like tiny needles against my skin, and my heart races as I push myself forward, willing myself not to look back at Jake's house.

I don't want him or his family to see me like this—caught in the storm, running away from their kindness like it's something I don't deserve.

The thunder grows louder, relentless, an endless roar in the sky. Each crack sends a jolt through my body, and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I want to cry, I really do, but I know I can't. I've always been terrified of thunder. Rain, I can handle; the constant downpour is something I can endure. But thunder—it's always been too much. Every time it rumbles through the sky, my heart races, my chest tightens, and I feel like I'm suffocating. In the future, when storms like this came, I would always crawl into my mother's room, curling up next to her for comfort, her presence a shield against the world outside. But she's not here with me. Not the version of her I know, anyway...

The thought stings like a fresh wound. My eyes begin to water, but I quickly wipe the tears away, not wanting to give in to the overwhelming surge of emotion.

I stumble down the street, searching for any kind of shelter. Finally, I spot a large shed connected to a convenience store—anything to get out of the relentless storm. With a sigh of relief, I hurry over, pulling my bag from my head and trying to fix my drenched appearance, smoothing down my wet hair and trying to at least look somewhat presentable, even though I know it's hopeless.

But then, the door creaks open with a sharp screech. A woman's voice cuts through the air, brittle with annoyance. "I'm sorry, you can't sit here. We're about to close."

I freeze, looking up at her, but she barely glances at me before turning away, already retreating back inside. "Oh... uh, okay..." I stammer, feeling the words die in my throat. Before I can even finish, she slams the door behind her with a loud bang.

The sound shocks me, and I flinch, my whole body jerking as the noise reverberates in my ears. I stare at the door for a moment, feeling the sting of rejection deep inside. Is this what it's like here? I think to myself bitterly. Are people always this cold in the past?

I'm just a 16-year-old girl for crying out loud!

Shaking my head, I stand up and start walking again, not even bothering to cover my head with my bag. I let it slip from my hands, the wet leather scraping against the pavement as I drag it behind me. The rain is unrelenting, each drop hitting harder than the last. My skin is stinging from the cold, my clothes sticking to me, drenched beyond repair. The thunder crackles again, and I jump, startled, as another loud boom shakes the air. The sound feels like it's tearing me apart from the inside. I gasp, my body recoiling, as I struggle to control my racing heart.

Tears start to slip down my cheeks, though they're quickly masked by the downpour. I don't even care anymore. My white school shirt clings to my body, wet and translucent, exposing far more than I'd ever want. But the discomfort of it barely registers—my mind is too clouded with fear and exhaustion to notice anything else.

I wander aimlessly, not caring where I go, until I find myself at the mouth of an alleyway. The rain is still coming down in sheets, and I slump down against the cold brick wall, curling into myself. I draw my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as the chill from the ground seeps into my bones.

Is this really my life now? The thought crashes into me like the storm above. I'm so far from home. So far from everything I ever knew.

I had taken the future for granted, hadn't I? All those comforts I never really appreciated—the warmth of a home, the soft, quiet hum of a couch I could rest on, the simple luxury of a bed to sleep in every night. I had a perfect life there. I had security. I had something.

But here? Here, I have nothing.

The tears come harder now, and I can't hold them back. They fall freely down my face, mixing with the rain, but it doesn't matter. The storm outside mirrors the storm inside me, both of them wild and unforgiving.

I bury my face in my knees, my body shaking with silent sobs. I don't normally cry. I've always prided myself on being strong, but I can't stop this. I can't stop the ache in my chest, the gnawing loneliness that threatens to swallow me whole. This... this is too much.

I close my eyes, letting the rain pour over me, letting the sound of the thunder drown out the quiet sobs that wrack my body. I try to tell myself that I'll be okay. That I can make it through this. But in this moment, as the storm rages on, it feels like nothing will ever be okay again.

As I sob quietly, my body trembling from both the cold and the storm's relentless assault, I start to hear a faint noise in the distance—something mechanical. At first, it's barely audible, just a whisper against the roar of the thunder and rain, but as it grows louder, my foggy mind registers that it's a vehicle. The sound intensifies, coming closer and closer, but I don't move, my head still buried deep in my knees, as if the storm and the tears can swallow me whole.

Then, the vehicle stops, right beside me.

I blink, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, my vision still blurry from the tears. The harsh rain continues to sting my skin, but I'm too disoriented to care. As my eyes slowly begin to focus, a dark figure materializes in front of me, and my breath catches in my throat. The figure takes shape, and as the water runs down my face, my heart skips a beat.

"J-Jake Lee..." I whisper to myself, barely audible over the thunder that still rumbles in the sky.

There he is. Jake Lee.

He's sitting astride a sleek, black motorcycle, his black leather jacket soaked through but still defining the sharpness of his silhouette. Despite the helmet obscuring most of his face, he's pulled the front up just enough for me to see his expression clearly—a calm, unreadable look that does nothing to reassure me in the intensity of the moment.

Why is he here?

The seconds stretch into an uncomfortable silence as I stare at him, trying to piece together how he even found me. After all, he had been so dismissive earlier—avoiding me completely in front of his mother. Why would he be here now, in the middle of this terrible storm?

The silence is broken by his voice, sharp and direct.

"Get on."

I blink slowly once again, confused, my thoughts spinning in a thousand directions. This sudden offer feels surreal—like a dream that doesn't quite make sense. How did he find me?

Before I can form another question, his tone shifts, hardening.

"Get on before I change my mind." He snaps, his fingers gripping the motorcycle handles with a force that makes the knuckles of his hand stand out in sharp relief.

I stand up slowly, legs shaking beneath me, and step toward him. His eyes are dark, unreadable, as they flick up to meet mine. He looks like he's holding back something—annoyance, impatience, maybe even a hint of something I can't quite name.

"But...b-" I begin to say, unsure how to react, but he cuts me off before I can get another word out.

"I said get on, not talk to me." His voice is firm, bordering on irritable, as he looks straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge me further.

I hesitate, my feet still rooted to the ground. The motorcycle is a dangerous machine, the kind of thing I've only ever seen in movies or on the back of my classmates' Instagram posts, or even outside the car window as my mom drives on the highway. I swallow hard, taking a step closer, my mind racing with a hundred questions I don't know how to ask. But he's already waiting, his impatience palpable.

"Is this... really safe?" I ask, my voice small, though I barely recognize it as my own.

He sighs, and the sound is full of frustration. "I'm not sitting here in the rain waiting for you to make a decision. Either get on, or I'm going back home."

His voice is cutting, commanding, and I feel a flicker of something—maybe fear or discontent—flash through me. It's not the kind of offer you expect, but at this point, it's my only option. The rain is cold and unrelenting, and the wind whips around me, stinging my face and making my thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm.

I want to ask more, the urge to see his license, Or if he's even qualified to drive this thing professionally. But I can't find the words. The storm is too loud, too harsh.

"Wait, though I-"

Before I can finish, he starts the engine, the deep growl of the motor cutting through the downpour. He grips the handles harder, clearly impatient. "Okay, I change my mind." He turns the bike toward home, his body already set to leave as the bike is slowly driving past me.

I panic, my heart racing, and I quickly reach out, stopping him. "Okay, okay! I'll get on!"

I scramble to throw my leg over the back of the motorcycle, feeling the weight of the bike shift under me as I settle behind him. The seat is hard, the metal cold beneath my thighs. I cling to him, my arms wrapping tightly around his waist as the rain continues to batter us both. A small chuckle escapes from him, low and almost inaudible under the roar of the storm.

I press my face against his back, my eyes squeezed shut, terrified to open them. I can feel his muscles tense beneath the leather jacket, his body warm despite the storm, and for a moment, I allow myself to focus only on that warmth. I'm shaking, but it's not just from the cold anymore.

"Don't fall." He says, his voice steady and matter-of-fact as he revs the engine.

I cling to him even tighter, my grip a little more desperate now, my body pressing into his as if he's my anchor in this wild storm. The bike jerks forward, and I feel the wind rush past us, cold and violent. I close my eyes tighter, every nerve in my body screaming with fear. The speed is dizzying, and I don't dare open my eyes, knowing the world outside would be too much. Thunder cracks above us, so close it feels like it's happening inside my head.

I can feel every bump in the road, every twist and turn, and I grip him harder, my knuckles white, as the rain continues to lash at us. My clothes are plastered to my skin, soaked through, and the rain has already turned my hair into a heavy, dripping mass. But it's nothing compared to the storm inside me—the fear, the panic, the uncertainty.

As we ride through the storm, I slowly, cautiously open my eyes. The rearview mirror catches my gaze, and I meet his eyes in it.

He's smirking.

That damn smirk again.

What is that about?

I swallow hard, the confusion flooding back. His expression is unreadable, like a mask hiding something just beneath the surface. What is he thinking? What does he truly want from me? The questions swirl in my mind, but for now, all I can do is hold on and pray that I don't fall.

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