Tuesday arrived colder than expected.
The sky was the color of old steel all morning, and by second period the first drops were already tapping against the windows like impatient fingers.
Jade kept her hoodie zipped high, sleeves pulled over her hands, and tried not to check the clock every five minutes.
She spotted Rose in the hallway between third and fourth period.
Rose stood near the bulletin board, frowning at her schedule, backpack slipping off one shoulder.
She looked small against the rush of bodies—hair tucked behind her ears, glasses fogging slightly from the sudden indoor warmth.
Jade slowed without thinking.
"Hey," she said, stopping a few feet away. "You okay?"
Rose glanced up, relief flickering across her face.
"I thought history was in room 214. But this map says 217. I'm lost."
Jade smiled a little.
"Easy mistake. 214 is downstairs, end of the east wing. Come on—I'll walk you."
Rose hesitated only a second, then nodded.
"Thanks."
They moved through the crowd together.
Jade kept her pace slow, matching Rose's careful steps.
Neither spoke much.
Just the soft squeak of sneakers on tile, the distant echo of bells, the low murmur of voices around them.
When they reached the door of 214, Rose paused.
"You didn't have to do that."
Jade shrugged.
"I was going that way anyway."
Rose's mouth curved—just the tiniest bit.
"Liar."
Jade laughed under her breath.
"Guilty."
Rose slipped inside with a quiet "See you later."
Jade lingered in the doorway a moment longer than she meant to, watching Rose find her seat near the back.
The rest of the day blurred.
Math. English. A pop quiz she barely passed.
Outside, the rain thickened—steady, cold, the kind that soaked through jackets in minutes.
By the final bell, it was pouring.
Students spilled out under umbrellas or hoods pulled tight, but Jade didn't have one.
She stepped under the wide awning at the main entrance and waited.
The rain drummed hard on the metal roof above, drowning out most of the chatter.
A minute later, Rose appeared beside her.
No umbrella either.
Rose pulled her cardigan tighter around herself and stared out at the gray curtain of water.
"Guess we're stuck."
Jade nodded.
"Looks like it."
They stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the courtyard turn into shallow rivers.
The cold seeped in slowly—chilly winter rain, the kind that made fingers ache and breath fog.
After a while, Rose spoke.
"I used to like rain. Back home. It was warmer there. Felt different."
Jade glanced at her.
"Where did you live initially?"
"Florida." Rose's voice was quiet, almost lost in the downpour. "Lots of storms. But they passed fast."
Jade didn't push.
She just listened.
Rose continued after a beat.
"Here it's… colder. Stays longer."
"Yeah," Jade said. "Winter rain here feels like it's trying to prove something."
Rose let out a small laugh—soft, surprised.
"That's exactly it."
They fell quiet again.
Comfortable.
The kind of quiet that didn't need filling.
Jade pulled her notebook from her bag, shielding it under her hoodie.
She opened to a blank page and started doodling absentmindedly—raindrops, a window, a vague outline of two figures under an awning.
Rose noticed.
"You draw too?"
"Not really. Just… when I'm thinking."
Rose leaned a little closer to see.
"What are you thinking about?"
Jade's pencil paused.
She felt the warmth of Rose's arm near hers, the faint scent of rain and something like vanilla from her hair.
"Nothing big," she said. "Just… this. The rain. Being here."
Rose didn't reply right away.
Then, softly: "Me too."
The rain eased a fraction—not stopping, but slowing to a steady drizzle.
Jade closed her notebook.
"Want to make a run for it? Gates aren't far."
Rose looked out, then back at Jade.
"Together?"
"Together."
They stepped out at the same time.
Cold drops hit their faces, soaked their shoulders almost instantly.
They hurried across the courtyard—half walking, half jogging—laughing when a puddle splashed up Rose's jeans.
At the gates, breathless and dripping, they stopped under the last bit of cover.
Rose pushed wet hair from her forehead.
"That was stupid."
"Worth it," Jade said, grinning.
Rose smiled back—real, unguarded for a second.
"Yeah. Maybe."
They stood there a moment longer, rain pattering around them.
Then Rose said, "You mentioned the music room once. The key thing."
Jade's heart skipped.
"I do. Sometimes."
Rose looked at her steadily.
"Maybe tomorrow? After school?"
Jade nodded before she could overthink it.
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
Rose gave a small wave as she turned toward the bus stop.
"See you."
Jade watched her disappear into the gray afternoon, cardigan dark with rain, steps quick but light.
On the walk home, Jade's shoes squelched.
Her hoodie clung cold to her skin.
But inside, something felt warm.
She pulled out her notebook under a streetlamp, pages damp at the edges.
She Wrote one line without thinking:
'Your laugh in the rain sounds like the song I can't finish.'
She stared at it.
Closed the book.
Still didn't have a name for whatever this was.
But she knew she wanted more of it.