The rain started after midnight.Not heavy. Persistent. A quiet tapping against glass that made everything feel smaller, closer.Rihanna was lying on her bed, lights off, phone facedown, trying not to think about Dennis—when the sound came.A knock.Soft. Careful.Her heart jumped.Another knock, louder this time.She sat up slowly, breath caught in her throat, and crossed the room. When she pulled the curtain aside, Dennis was there—soaked, hair damp, eyes dark with something she didn’t want to name.She slid the window open.“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.“I know,” he said. “I couldn’t stay away.”He climbed in easily, like he’d done this a hundred times in his head. The room smelled like rain and her shampoo. Dennis glanced around once, confirming what he already knew.“No one’s home,” he murmured.Rihanna shut the window.The silence between them was loud.“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Dennis said. “About the kiss. About how you felt.”Her pulse raced. “Dennis—”
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