RAIN AGAINST GLASS
1546 Words
Elena realized Adrian’s coat smelled like cedarwood and rain.
Which was a problem.
Because normal people did not notice things like that.
Normal people definitely did not spend several seconds staring at a stranger’s coat folded neatly across the chair beside them while pretending not to care.
“You’re thinking too hard again,” Mira said from behind the counter.
Elena blinked. “What?”
“The face.”
“What face?”
“The emotionally constipated face.”
“I do not have a face for that.”
“You absolutely do.”
Mira leaned against the counter and eyed the coat knowingly.
“Oh.”
Elena immediately frowned. “Don’t.”
“You met a man.”
“I met an inconvenience.”
“A very attractive inconvenience.”
“He was arrogant.”
“You like arrogant.”
“I absolutely do not.”
Mira gave her a long look.
Elena sighed dramatically and reopened her laptop after the café power finally returned. Thankfully, auto-recovery restored half her document.
Good.
She no longer needed to throw herself into traffic.
Outside, rain continued pouring heavily against the windows.
Her phone buzzed suddenly.
Noah.
Elena answered immediately.
“Hey.”
“You still at the café?” Noah asked softly.
His voice sounded tired.
Too tired.
Something inside her tightened instantly.
“Yeah. You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Lie.
She knew every version of his lies by now.
The I’m fine that meant pain.
The I’m fine that meant fear.
The I’m fine that meant he didn’t want her worrying again.
“You took your medication?”
A pause.
“…Yes.”
Another lie.
“Elena.”
“What?”
“You can hear it in my voice, can’t you?”
“Yes.”
A weak laugh came through the phone.
“Scary.”
Her chest ached.
Noah always joked when things hurt.
“I’ll be home soon,” she said quietly.
“You don’t have to rush.”
“I’m already packing.”
“You were working.”
“I’m leaving anyway.”
Silence.
Then softer:
“You don’t always have to save everything.”
Elena stared at the rain sliding down the glass.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”
After hanging up, she rubbed her eyes slowly.
Exhaustion sat deep in her bones lately.
Not physical exhaustion.
The kind that lived in the soul.
The kind that came from constantly pretending things weren’t falling apart.
She shut her laptop and stood.
Adrian’s coat slipped slightly from the chair.
Right.
That.
For a moment, she considered leaving it with Mira.
Then frowned.
No.
Something told her the coat probably cost more than Noah’s semester tuition.
Unfortunately.
“Keep this here if some emotionally unavailable billionaire comes back for it,” Elena told Mira.
“Emotionally unavailable billionaire?”
“He looked rich enough to own islands.”
“Did he look rich enough to ruin your life?”
Elena grabbed her bag. “That sounds oddly specific.”
“It’s an important category.”
She laughed quietly despite herself before leaving the café.
The cold hit immediately.
Rain hammered against sidewalks and rooftops hard enough to blur the city lights into smeared gold reflections.
Elena pulled her hood tighter and hurried toward the bus stop across the street.
Thunder echoed overhead.
A black car waited beside the curb nearby.
Long.
Expensive.
The kind politicians and CEOs sat inside while pretending to care about ordinary people.
Its headlights reflected across rain-soaked pavement.
Elena barely noticed it at first.
Then the passenger window lowered slowly.
Adrian looked at her from inside the car.
Of course.
Naturally.
Because apparently the universe enjoyed inconveniencing her personally.
“You forgot your umbrella,” he said.
Elena blinked once.
Then looked down.
Right.
She had.
Wonderful.
“I’ll survive.”
“Get in.”
“No.”
Rain poured harder.
Adrian’s expression remained calm.
“You’ll get sick.”
“I don’t enter cars with strange men.”
“You sat alone with me for an hour.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“There were witnesses.”
Something almost resembling amusement flickered briefly across his face again.
“You’re suspicious of everyone.”
“You say that like it’s irrational.”
He tilted his head slightly.
Fair enough.
Lightning flashed overhead.
Elena sighed in defeat and approached the car reluctantly.
The moment she entered, warmth wrapped around her instantly.
Soft leather seats.
Faint instrumental music.
The scent of expensive cologne and coffee.
Everything about the car screamed money so loudly it almost offended her.
She shut the door carefully.
“I still don’t trust you,” she informed him.
“Understood.”
The driver glanced into the rearview mirror.
“Sir?”
Adrian looked toward Elena.
“Where am I taking you?”
She hesitated.
Normally she would never tell a stranger her address.
But Noah was waiting.
And the rain showed no signs of stopping.
“Elms District,” she muttered quietly.
The driver nodded and pulled into traffic.
Silence settled inside the car.
Elena watched blurred city lights through rain-covered windows while trying very hard not to notice Adrian sitting beside her.
Unfortunately, awareness existed anyway.
His sleeves remained rolled slightly upward from earlier.
Strong hands.
Veins visible beneath pale skin.
She looked away instantly.
Absolutely not.
Her brain needed discipline.
“You dislike wealthy people,” Adrian said suddenly.
She glanced sideways. “That obvious?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“You say it proudly.”
“I say it accurately.”
“And what exactly have wealthy people done to deserve your hatred?”
Elena laughed softly.
“That question alone proves you’re one of them.”
“Answer anyway.”
She studied him carefully.
Most rich men became defensive whenever criticized.
Adrian simply looked curious.
Dangerously calm.
“My mother worked herself to death for a man who promised her everything,” Elena said finally. “He abandoned her once she became inconvenient.”
Adrian remained silent.
So she continued.
“I grew up watching powerful people ruin lives and walk away untouched afterward. So yes, I dislike wealth.”
“You dislike cruelty,” he corrected quietly.
“No. I dislike people who believe money excuses cruelty.”
The city lights reflected across Adrian’s grey eyes.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then:
“That’s fair.”
She frowned slightly.
“That’s it?”
“What response were you expecting?”
“I don’t know. Defensiveness. A speech about hard work. Something pretentious.”
“I dislike speeches.”
The answer came so simply that Elena almost smiled.
Almost.
Traffic slowed near a flooded intersection.
Rain struck the windows violently.
Adrian loosened his tie slightly for the first time since she met him.
The tiny gesture felt strangely intimate.
Like witnessing something private.
“You work too much,” Elena said before thinking.
His eyes shifted toward her slowly.
“You assume that from one conversation?”
“You have permanent exhaustion in your face.”
“That’s specific.”
“It’s true.”
Adrian leaned back against the seat.
“And what does your face say?”
Elena crossed her arms.
“That I mind my business.”
“No,” he said softly. “Your face says you’re tired of carrying people.”
The words hit too accurately.
Her chest tightened.
She looked away immediately toward the rain-covered window.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
God.
Why did every conversation with him feel like walking through emotional landmines?
The car finally stopped outside her apartment building twenty minutes later.
Calling it an apartment building was generous.
It looked permanently exhausted.
Peeling paint.
Broken hallway lights.
Old balconies rusting slowly above narrow streets.
Elena grabbed her bag quickly before Adrian could comment.
But when she glanced toward him, there was no visible judgment in his expression.
Only observation.
Always observation.
“Thanks for the ride,” she muttered.
“You left before I could retrieve my coat.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
She rolled her eyes despite herself.
Then paused before opening the door.
“You know,” she said slowly, “most rich men would’ve made this weird.”
“And did I?”
“Not yet.”
A quiet pause settled between them.
Rain softened slightly outside.
Adrian looked at her with that same unreadable calm.
Then:
“You still haven’t told me what you write.”
Elena smirked faintly.
“Maybe because I enjoy mystery.”
“You enjoy control.”
“That too.”
His gaze lingered on her for one strange second too long.
Not lustful.
Not even romantic.
Just… focused.
Like he was trying to understand something.
It unsettled her more than flirting would have.
Finally, Adrian spoke quietly.
“Goodnight, Elena.”
Her name sounded different in his voice.
Lower.
Softer.
Dangerous.
Elena stepped out into the rain before she could think too hard about that.
She hurried toward her building entrance without looking back—
—but somehow knew the black car remained there until she safely entered inside.
And for reasons she didn’t understand yet—
that realization stayed with her long after midnight.
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