Chapter One · The Umbrella
The rain came the way it always does in July — all at once, as if the sky had been holding its breath. I pressed myself against the bus shelter, and that was when a black umbrella appeared above my head.
“You'll ruin your notes,” he said. Then he stepped back into the downpour, entirely unprotected, as though it were the most reasonable thing in the world.
I laughed. I didn't mean to. He laughed too.
