The sky over Paris turned gray fast. Gaesha stood outside her bakery, locking the door, when the first raindrops fell.
She looked up, squinting at the clouds. "Oh, come on," she said. "Not now! Why today?"
She pulled her jacket over her head and dug into her bag for her little umbrella. It was pink, old, and a bit bent, but Gaesha liked it.
She popped it open just as the rain got heavy, splashing loud on the cobblestones.
"Okay, Gaesha," she said to herself. "Time to go home. Let's move quick!"
She started down the street, humming a little tune to keep her spirits up. The rain drummed on her umbrella, fast and noisy.
She dodged puddles, but her sneakers got wet anyway. "This is why I need a car," she said. "Or maybe a boat! Yeah, Paris should have boats for days like this."
A block away, Kent was caught off guard too. He'd left the chateau site late, his coat collar up, no umbrella in sight.
The rain soaked his hair, dripping down his face. He walked fast, head down, muttering to himself.
"Perfect," he said. "Just what I needed today. Wet and cold."
Kent turned a corner and almost bumped into Gaesha. She yelped, her umbrella tipping sideways.
"Whoa!" she said. "Watch where you're going—oh, Kent! Hi there!"
He stopped, blinking water out of his eyes. "Gaesha," he said. "It's you again."
"Yep, it's me again!" she said, grinning big. "You're all wet, Kent. Where's your umbrella at?"
"Don't have one," Kent said. "I didn't know it'd rain this much."
"That's a rookie mistake," Gaesha said. "Come here, come on." She stepped closer, holding her umbrella over him. "We can share mine. It's small, but it works."
Kent ducked under it, his shoulder brushing hers. The umbrella was tiny, and he had to bend a little.
"This is silly," he said. "I'm too tall for this thing."
"You're fine," she said. "See? You're dry now. Well, kind of drier, right?"
He wiped his face with his hand. "Barely," Kent said. "Gaesha, your umbrella's so small."
"It's cute," she said. "Like me! Don't you think so? Where you headed?"
"Hotel," he said. "What about you?"
"Home," Gaesha said. "It's real close. Want to walk with me? Come on, say yes."
Kent sighed long and loud. "Fine," he said. "But if I get wetter, it's your fault, Gaesha."
"Deal!" she said, laughing.
She started walking, and he kept up, their arms bumping under the tight space.
"Rain's fun, huh? It makes everything look shiny and new," Gaesha said.
"It's cold," Kent said. "And wet. Not fun."
"You're so negative," Gaesha said. "Look at the street, Kent—it's like a big mirror! Isn't that pretty?"
He glanced down. The cobblestones gleamed, reflecting the lights. "Maybe," Kent said. "A little bit, I guess."
"See?" she said. "I'm teaching you how to have fun. What did you do today, Kent?"
"Work," he said. "That's it. You?"
"I baked," Gaesha said. "Sold out again! Oh, and I slipped on some flour. Fell right on my butt. Mia laughed at me for ten whole minutes."
Kent's lips twitched, almost a smile. "You're clumsy," he said. "Always falling, huh?"
"Yep, always," she said. "It keeps life exciting, Kent. Do you ever fall?"
"No," he said. "I'm careful. I watch my steps."
"Boring!" Gaesha teased. "You need to trip sometime. Loosen up a little, you know?"
"I'm loose enough," Kent said. "This is me being loose, Gaesha."
She laughed, loud and bright. "You're funny when you don't even try," she said. "I like that about you, Kent."
He didn't answer, but he didn't pull away either. The rain got harder, tapping the umbrella like a drum. Then a gust of wind hit, and—snap!—the umbrella flipped inside out.
"Oh no!" Gaesha cried, grabbing at it. "Hold on, hold on! Don't break yet!"
Kent reached too, but the wind was stronger. The umbrella broke, one side flapping loose.
Rain poured down on them, soaking her hair and his coat. She stared at it, then burst out laughing.
"It's dead!" Gaesha said, holding up the broken mess. "My poor little umbrella! Look at it, Kent!"
He wiped water off his face, and then—surprising himself—he laughed too. It was short, quiet, but real.
"You're a disaster," Kent said. "A total mess, Gaesha."
"I know!" she said, still laughing. "Look at us, Kent! We're like drowned rats out here!"
He shook his head, water dripping from his hair. "This is your fault," Kent said. "You and that tiny umbrella of yours."
"Hey, it tried hard!" Gaesha said. "Blame the wind, not me. Come on, let's run now!"
"What?" he said, frowning.
"Run!" she said. She grabbed his hand and pulled. "My place is close, Kent. We'll dry off there. Let's go!"
Kent let her drag him, his long legs keeping up. They splashed through puddles, rain hitting their faces.
Gaesha giggled the whole way, and he—grumpy, wet Kent—felt something light in his chest.
They reached her building, a narrow place with a red door. She fumbled with her keys, still holding the broken umbrella.
"Inside!" Gaesha said, pushing the door open. "We're safe now, Kent!"
He followed her into a small hallway. Water dripped off them onto the floor. Gaesha kicked off her shoes and turned to him.
"You okay?" she asked. "Not too cold?"
"Wet," Kent said. "But fine, I guess."
"Good," she said. "Come up with me. I've got towels. You need one."
"No," he said. "I'll just go. My hotel's not far."
"You're soaked, Kent!" Gaesha said. "Come on, just one towel. Please? For me?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "Okay, one towel," Kent said. "That's it."
She led him up a creaky staircase to her apartment. It was small, messy, full of color—yellow walls, a couch with too many pillows, a table with baking books.
"Sit down," Gaesha said, pointing at the couch. "I'll grab stuff for us."
Kent sat, stiff and dripping. She ran to a closet and came back with two towels.
"Here you go," Gaesha said, tossing him one. "Dry off, Kent. You look like a wet dog."
"Thanks," he said. He rubbed his hair, watching her.
She scrubbed her face with her towel, her wet hair sticking all over.
"We're a mess," Gaesha said, grinning at him. "But that was fun, right? Tell me it was."
"Fun?" Kent said. "We're wet and cold, Gaesha."
"And laughing," she said. "You laughed out there! I heard it, Kent. Don't lie."
"Maybe," he said. He looked away, hiding a small smile.
"Ha!" Gaesha said. "I win! You had fun. Want some tea? I've got some in the kitchen."
"No," Kent said. "I should go soon."
"Stay five minutes," she said. "Warm up first. You'll get sick if you don't."
He sighed again. "Five minutes," Kent said. "That's all."
She ran to the kitchen, banging pots around. "Tea's coming!" Gaesha called. "Hey, Kent, you like sugar in it?"
"No," he said. "Just plain tea."
"Boring," Gaesha said, poking her head out. "I'm adding sugar anyway. You need some sweetness, Kent."
"Don't do that," he said, but she was already gone.
She came back with two mugs, steam rising up. "Here you go," Gaesha said, handing him one. "Sweet tea for Grumpy Kent. Drink up!"
"I'm not grumpy," Kent said, taking it. He sipped, and the warmth felt good.
"Sure you're not," she said, sitting next to him. "You're just quiet. I like quiet sometimes, you know?"
"You're never quiet," he said. "Ever, Gaesha."
"True," she said. "But I can be. Watch me try."
She zipped her lips with her fingers and sat still—for ten seconds. Then she laughed.
"Okay, I can't do it," she said. "Too hard for me!"
Kent shook his head, but his eyes were soft. "You're strange," he said. "Really strange, Gaesha."
"You like it," she said. "Admit it, Kent. Just a little?"
"Maybe," he said. He finished the tea and stood up. "I'm going now."
"Okay," Gaesha said. "Thanks for running with me. That was fun."
"Thanks for the towel," Kent said. He handed it back, their fingers brushing a bit.
"See you, Kent," she said, waving from the door.
"See you," he said, stepping into the rain.
It was lighter now, and Kent didn't mind it. He thought about her laugh, her broken umbrella, her tea. Strange, loud Gaesha. He didn't hate it.