When The Rain Paused

Chapter 2

I watched Ryan casually sit on the floor and open a box labeled "BOOKS—DON’T DROP OR I CRY.” He chuckled at the label.

“You really wrote this?” he asked, lifting the note like it was museum-worthy.

“It's a valid warning,” I said, crossing my arms. “That box contains my emotional support novels.”

He smirked, pulling out a copy of The Night Circus “This one too?”

“That one especially. You damage that book and I’ll throw you out the window,” I said, only half-joking.

“I didn't know you were this violent,” he teased

“Only when someone messes with my books,” I replied.

He smiled, not saying anything for a second. I could tell he was holding something back. The silence stretched.

Then, as if giving in to impulse, he said, “I remember you reading this in class. You sat by the window. Always seemed so far away from everything.”

I blinked.

“You... noticed that?”

Ryan shrugged, suddenly looking unsure. “Kind of hard not to. You always looked like you were in another world.”

My heart thumped once. Twice.

“Maybe I was,” I said quietly. “Books were safer than real life sometimes.”

He nodded, eyes thoughtful. “I get that.”

And for a moment, we weren’t enemy-crushes. We were just two people, sitting on a floor surrounded by books, sharing pieces of ourselves without meaning to.

I grabbed another box and sat down across from him, opening it. It was full of old keepsakes, photos, letters, a couple of broken pens I swore I’d fix someday.

Ryan reached over and picked up a small Polaroid photo that had fallen out. It was a blurry picture of Merida, me, and a younger version of him, probably taken during one of our high school group projects. His face was half cut out.

“Wow,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I look... tragic in this.”

I laughed. “That was the infamous cardboard volcano project, remember? You got glue in your hair.”

“Oh my god,” he groaned, holding the photo up like it was evidence in court. “That took hours to get out. And you and Merida just laughed at me.”

“To be fair, it was funny,” I said, smiling.

He grinned back. “Yeah... it kind of was.”

A comfortable silence followed. He kept helping me sort books, asking where each one should go. Every now and then, our fingers brushed when we reached for the same item, and each time, I looked away first.

Until he said something that caught me off guard.

“You know, I didn’t expect to like today this much.”

I looked at him. “Why’s that?”

“Because I thought you’d still hate me,” he said honestly. “Back in high school, I was kind of a jerk sometimes. I said dumb things. Tried to look cool, even if it meant teasing you.”

I paused. “Yeah… you were a jerk.”

He laughed softly. “Deserved that.”

“But,” I added, giving him a small smile, “people grow. I’m trying not to hold grudges.”

He met my gaze. “I’m glad. Because I think I want to start over with you.”

My chest tightened a little. “Start over?”

“Yeah,” he said, setting the last book on the shelf. “Like… Hi, I’m Ryan. Not a jerk anymore. I help paint walls and sort books and try not to mess things up.”

I stared at him for a second. Then, slowly, I held out my hand.

“Hi, Ryan. I’m Lia. Emotional support book hoarder. Paints terribly. Easily flustered.”

He grinned and shook my hand. “Nice to meet you, Lia.”

The moment lingered, just a bit too long for it to be nothing.

But I pulled away first.

Because that was enough for today. My face was already red from earlier, and if we had one more of those eye-contact moments, I might combust.

Then, right on cue, my stomach growled loudly. I covered it with my hands.

Ryan blinked, then laughed. “I guess that’s our sign to get food.”

“I forgot to eat lunch,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Well, lucky for you…” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a paper bag. “I brought snacks.”

“You brought... wait, you planned this?” I asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged. “Always be prepared when you’re entering the enemy’s lair.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my smile. He handed me a sandwich and sat back down beside me, close, but not too close.

We ate there on the wooden floor of my half-painted, half-decorated apartment. Paint still on our shirts, dust in our hair, books stacked everywhere. And it was surprisingly… nice.

No dramatic confessions. No romantic music playing. Just two people, figuring each other out, one awkward step at a time.

And maybe, just maybe, my new home wasn’t the only thing beginning.

We finished our sandwiches in companionable silence. Occasionally, Ryan would point out something funny in one of the book titles, or Merida’s ridiculous labeling system. One box said “HANDLE WITH CARE — contains heartbreak & hope.” It was mostly just sad poetry and old diaries. I’d conveniently left that one sealed.

“This one’s heavy,” he said, nudging a box with his foot.

“Probably full of regrets,” I muttered.

He chuckled. “What, are we unpacking your emotional baggage now?”

“Only the paperback edition,” I joked, nudging him back.

He smiled again, that kind of soft smile that made me wonder if I’d ever really hated him in the first place, or if I’d just been annoyed that I noticed him too much.

“I like this side of you,” he said suddenly.

“What side?” I asked, startled.

“This version. Less guarded. Less ready to bite my head off,” he teased gently.

I shrugged, pretending not to care. “I only act like that with people who act like they deserve it.”

“Fair enough,” he said, nodding. “But I’m glad you’re letting me in a little.”

There it was again. That thing in the air. That not-so-subtle shift. My fingers suddenly felt too warm. I looked away, focusing on a random picture frame on the shelf.

“Don’t get used to it,” I mumbled.

He didn’t respond right away, but I could feel him watching me. Like he was trying to read a page I hadn’t let anyone open yet.

Then his voice, softer “I won’t. But I’ll still stay.”

And just like that, my chest squeezed in that weird, fluttery way again. That feeling that made me want to punch a wall and hug someone at the same time.

“I’m not a project, Ryan,” I said, quiet now.

“I know,” he replied, without missing a beat. “I don’t want to fix you. I just want to see you. That’s all.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. So I didn’t. I stood up instead and stretched, trying to shake off the growing weight of feelings I wasn’t ready to sort yet.

“Well, since you’re already here,” I said, brushing imaginary dust off my pants, “you might as well help me carry the remaining plants up from the garage.”

He smiled, understanding my need to change the topic. “Bossy again. There’s the Lia I know.”

“Careful. You’re about to get demoted from ‘painting assistant’ to ‘box carrier.’”

“Oh no,” he said mockingly, “anything but that.”

We headed downstairs together. I opened the garage, and the late afternoon light spilled through, casting gold on the floor and over the small potted plants waiting in line to be rescued from neglect.

Ryan picked up a particularly droopy monstera and frowned. “This guy’s struggling.”

“He’s dramatic,” I replied. “He’ll bounce back.”

“Just like someone I know,” he said under his breath.

I shot him a look. He grinned.

We moved in sync without really meaning to, passing pots, carrying shelves, setting things up by the windows on the second floor. My tiny reading nook was slowly coming to life, surrounded by greenery and books, just like I’d imagined.

When we finished, I flopped down onto the small couch, completely spent. Ryan sat at the edge of the window seat, arms resting on his knees.

“It looks amazing,” he said, glancing around.

“Not bad for a day’s work,” I agreed, wiping sweat from my brow.

He looked at me then, more serious now. “I meant you. You’re amazing.”

My heart paused.

“That’s… a weird compliment to end the day with,” I replied awkwardly.

“I’m not trying to end it,” he said simply. “Just trying to tell the truth.”

For the third time that day, I didn’t know how to respond. So instead, I leaned back, letting the last of the sunlight warm my face.

“I’m still mad you saw me looking like a mess,” I muttered.

“I didn’t see a mess,” he said, without missing a beat. “I saw someone who was building something real.”

That time, I smiled, just a little. Just enough for him to see.

Then the front door slammed downstairs.

“LIAAA!” Merida’s voice echoed again. “I forgot my charger!”

I groaned. “Your timing is criminal.”

“Did I interrupt a moment?” she shouted from below.

Ryan laughed.

“No!” I shouted back. “Come get your stuff and leave again!”

“Alright, alright!” she said, laughing too.

Ryan stood, stretching. “Guess that’s our cue.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, standing beside him. “Thanks for today.”

“No problem,” he said, meeting my gaze. “Thanks for letting me in.”

Again with the eye contact. Again with the fluttering thing.

Merida ran back upstairs, grabbed her charger, and looked between us.

“Ohhh. Something happened,” she said under her breath.

“Goodbye, Merida,” I said, pushing her toward the stairs.

“I’ll text you later!” she called.

I turned to Ryan again.

“Text me too,” he said, giving me a smile before following her down.

I watched him go. Closed the door. Leaned against it.

The apartment was quiet again. My safe space. My new beginning.

And maybe… maybe this was a different kind of beginning too