Close Enough to Touch

Brielle did not plan to run into Jaxon before the community garden meeting.

She also didn’t plan for the sky to open up and pour rain like a movie scene specifically designed to ruin her good hair day.

She definitely didn’t plan to end up standing under the same tiny awning with him.

But there she was one arm hugged around her damp cardigan, the other pushing wet curls out of her face as Jaxon jogged up, water sliding off his shoulders like he was sponsored by the weather.

He shook his head, spraying droplets everywhere.

Including on her.

“Really?” she snapped, brushing her cheek with the back of her hand.

He grinned, infuriatingly unbothered.

“Relax. It’s just water. You’re not gonna melt.”

“Oh, you don’t know me well enough to say that.”

His eyebrow lifted. “I think I know you pretty well.”

Her pulse misbehaved just for a second.

She straightened. “You used to. That was years ago.”

“That doesn’t erase it,” he said quietly.

The air thickened not romantic, not soft, but heavy with all the things left unsaid.

She folded her arms, partly annoyed, partly trying to shield the sudden flutter in her stomach.

“We’re not doing this. We’re just waiting out the rain.”

“Fine by me.” He leaned one shoulder against the brick wall, arms crossed, looking entirely too comfortable. “But you’re staring at me like you want to say something.”

She scoffed. “I am not staring.”

“Brielle, you’re glaring a hole through my shirt.”

She hadn’t realized she was.

She looked away too fast, heat crawling up her neck.

The rain hammered the street, the sound almost loud enough to drown out her heartbeat. Their shoulders were only a few inches apart too close, way too close. Every time he shifted, she caught the scent of rain and cedar and something unmistakably him.

She hated that she noticed.

Jaxon tilted his head slightly, watching the sheets of water fall. “You know… I really am glad you’re back.”

She blinked. “Why? So you can bother me like it’s a sport?”

He smirked. “You make it easy.”

“Jaxon.” Her voice had an edge, but not the sharp one she intended. “Stop.”

“Okay,” he said. “Let me ask a real question then.”

She hesitated.

He continued softly. “Why did you leave without saying goodbye?”

Her breath caught.

Of all the questions he could’ve picked

Of all the moments he could’ve dragged into the present

He chose that one.

Lightning flashed in her memory: the last night of senior year, the fight with her mom, the acceptance letter she wasn’t supposed to open yet, and Jaxon waiting on the hood of his old car with that stupid hopeful grin.

She swallowed hard. “That’s… complicated.”

“It wasn’t complicated for me,” he said. “One day you were here. The next day you were gone. No note. No call.” His jaw tightened. “Nothing.”

Guilt pricked at her chest. She stared at the rain, not him.

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

“That’s the problem, Brie.” His voice was low, rough. “I did.”

Her stomach flipped.

She forced her tone steady. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Well.” His eyes dropped to her lips for a split second just long enough for her to feel it. “I did anyway.”

The rain eased, turning from a roar into a soft patter.

She stepped forward, ready to escape this too small awning and too honest conversation. But the sidewalk was still drenched, muddy puddles everywhere.

Jaxon moved at the same time she did, reaching out to stop her.

His hand brushed her arm light, warm, unexpected.

Her breath hitched.

He froze.

She froze.

Neither of them moved.

His fingers slid away slowly, deliberately, leaving trails of awareness up her skin.

“Sorry,” he murmured. It didn’t sound like he meant it.

“It’s… fine.”

She cleared her throat, pretending it didn’t affect her.

It did. Too much.

He straightened, eyes darkening in a way she’d never seen.

“We should get to the meeting before the volunteers think we ditched.”

“Right.” She nodded, though her legs felt suspiciously unreliable.

Jaxon stepped off the curb first, then looked back at her.

“Come on, Hartley.” His voice dipped confident, warm, teasing. “Unless you’re scared to walk with me.”

She glared. “You wish.”

But when she stepped beside him, she walked close enough that their hands almost touched.

Almost.

Neither pulled away.

Neither admitted they noticed.

At the community center, Brielle took a breath before opening the meeting room door.

“Before we go in,” Jaxon said behind her. She turned to see him closer than she expected again. “Just so you know… whatever this is between us? You’re not imagining it.”

Her heart thudded.

“And I’m not running from it,” he added softly.

She swallowed. “Good for you.”

He smiled slow, knowing, dangerous.

“Good for both of us.”

She pushed the door open, cutting off the moment before it dragged her under completely.

But the truth followed her in anyway:

She wasn’t imagining it.

Not even a little.