Rain

3pm. The sun is still high up in the sky, beating down warmly on my skin. Earlier, some clouds had gathered around it, but it had never disappeared. I was afraid it would rain, but the sun has scared away the clouds, leaving just a few delicate pastel clouds. It looks unlikely to rain now.

I am standing against a white Ford pickup truck that has seen its best days in the early 2000's. It's old and needs a paint job, but it is not my concern. Standing before me is a tall modern apartment building. The North Point is a beautiful apartment building situated just north of the city's business district, an apartment building that is about to become home.

I am not paying much attention to the building. Instead my eyes are focused on the person who's only a few feet from me, unloading the pickup truck I'm leaning on.

"Rain, will you quit staring at me and pick up something?" he asks briefly, pausing his work.

The amused twinkle in his eyes is like a drug. It does the opposite of what he has just uttered. I'm not sure if it is doing what he has intended, but I know I'm drawn to his form even more. I am now paying more attention to his well-defined torso inside his loose tank top. I'm more aware of the sweat coating his lightly-bronze skin, making it shimmer as the rays of the sun touch it. The sweat is a result of his hard work, work I was supposed to help him with; but I can't seem to tear myself away from the truck I'm leaning on.

"Rainier Laurent!" he says sharply.

"I love it when you are so stern," I say with a playful smile.

He walks the short distance to where I'm standing. Nestled in his arms is a big brown cardboard box. His arms are taut and bulging, owing to the weight of the contents of the box. Either way, he doesn't seem to mind the weight of it as he stands before me.

I playfully run my hand on his bicep, tracing the veins that I can make out clearly. Ryan is his name. He isn't big, but he's definitely bigger than me. He is muscular, owing to countless hours at the gym and the summer job he'd taken up.

"And people think I'm your eye-candy," I say with a chuckle and a wink.

I don't fail to see the amused look on his face. I don't see if for long though, as he leans over to place a kiss on my lips, taking me by surprise. I'm not surprised for too long though, and welcome him almost thirstily.

I have been kissing the same lips for almost three years, but every kiss always feels a little different. It could be in the way Ryan flicks his tongue to tease me, or the way he smiles into a kiss.

The kiss doesn't last more than five seconds before he pulls away.

"Arms out," he says.

I respond quickly and put my arms out, seemingly dazed by a kiss that lasted less than five seconds. The moment I feel the weight of something on my arms, I realize I have been duped. My immediate thought is to let my arms fall, but they don't because in a split second I realize Ryan is no longer holding the box. If I let my arms fall, the box will fall with them.

"This is so heavy. What the hell is in here?" I complain.

Ryan leans a little. Tracing a finger on the box, he says, "Rain's books."

"Are you sure that's what it says?" I say, moving slightly so I can keep holding onto the box. While Ryan had looked fine holding it, I am not doing so well. My arms are very close to turning into jelly.

"Yes," he replies as he talks a few steps towards the back of the truck, where the last box is sitting.

"Babe, I cannot carry this upstairs!" I shout. "I can barely breathe."

Ryan chuckles. "Okay okay, I'll carry that one. But you have to carry the last one. It's full of your toys," he says and winks at the end.

A passing group of girls giggle at Ryan's suggestion. I am not amused, but Ryan can't help but laugh. He walks over to relieve me of my physical pain and I almost hit him on the shoulder for embarrassing me. I watch as he takes the few steps towards the building confidently, before picking up the last box in the truck and closing the rear door.

My embarrassment quickly floats away as I remember that the box I am holding is literally the only box I have held since we've gotten here. I made Ryan do all the hard work. With my box of toys firmly in my arms, I make my way to the apartment building I am going to call home for a long time.

The building is 10-storeys tall and houses 90 2-bedroom apartments, with 10 apartments at each floor. It is modern, with more glass than bricks and high ceilings.

I greet a few people as I enter the foyer and make my way to the elevators. As soon as I step into an elevator, my phone rings in my shorts pocket. I put my box of toys – soft toys I should add – on the floor and attend to the call.

"Hi mom," I say cheerfully.

"Hi –" mom says but she's cut off by a manly voice.

"Are you there yet?!" My dad demands to know.

I roll my eyes, unbeknownst to my parents. It always sounds weird when my dad demands something. What doesn't seem weird though is the fact that my parents called. For them it is an auspicious occasion for me to move out of the house I've lived in my whole life and into an apartment – with my boyfriend.

I'd spent my first year of college living at home. They are used to seeing me every day, and even though I have moved past some tragic things that happened four years ago, they worry about me.

"Yeah, we were just moving our things in," I say into the phone.

"Do you like it?" mom asks.

"Mom, it's still the same place I showed you last time," I say gently.

"A lot of things can happen in two weeks," she says.

"Where's Ryan?" dad muscles his way into the conversation.

"He's in the apartment. I'm on my way there. I have the last of our things," I say.

"Did you help him carry the boxes this time?" mom asks, no doubt remembering I didn't lift a finger when my stuff was loaded into Ryan's truck.

"Just this one box I have with me," I chuckle.

"He's definitely your son," I hear dad say to mom.

"As if you ever carry anything," mom retorts.

"I gotta go. I'll call you later," I say and hang up. I don't have to worry about whether I'll get time to call them; knowing my parents, they'll call me before I even think of calling them.

The elevator opens at my floor just as I bend to pick up the box at my feet. Fearing that the door might close before I pick up the box, I extend my leg to the door in a panic. The position however makes it hard for me to pick up the box.

A charming guy appears out of nowhere and leans on the open elevator door, forcing the elevator to stay open. I can see the smirk on his face when he drawls, "At your service my prince"

I roll my eyes. Ryan is a charmer, something hidden by his rough exterior. On the outside, you'd view him as somebody not to be messed with, reserved; a traditionally manly man if such a thing existed. He exudes that air of confidence which is mixed in with an air of resilience, bravado, seriousness and a daring nature.

Having spent almost three years getting to know him, I can say the exterior doesn't lie, but there is more to him that many don't get to see. This same guy whose exterior speaks of seriousness has a cute and charming side.

"Here," he says to me, extending his arms out for the box in mine.

"I'll bring this one in," I say with a smile. I've taken the decision I am going to carry at least one thing into our apartment, come hell or high water.

Our apartment is small, modest and affordable for the both of us. We have decided to split the rent halfway, more like Ryan's decision than mine. I offered to pay the full amount but he'll have none of that. He'd take five jobs and break his back before he'd let me pay the whole amount. I thought it was ridiculous that he had problems accepting my offer, but that was how he was and there was no going against him.

Unlike me, Ryan isn't so lucky when it comes to money. I am privileged enough I guess to come from a moderately successful family. My father is a painter and gallery owner, and my mother is a well-known fashion designer. They made their money while they were quite young, and are now content to spend it while taking small projects here and there. I am one of two kids whom they spend their money on. My sister Julie, who is 1 minute, 3 seconds older than me - to be exact- is a drama student at Juilliard in New York. I cannot say our parents throw money at us, but it is rare for us to not get what we want.

Ryan on the other hand has struggled most of his life to get what he wants. His parents were not money savvy and took to dangerous ways to obtain more money. As a result, when they died untimely they were in deep financial trouble. When the debt collectors were done taking what was theirs, Ryan was left with nothing to his name. It took him a year of odd jobs and criminal activities before his uncle decided it was best if Ryan lived with him and his wife. He paid for Ryan's expenses with the little money he made from his hardware store business, but he couldn't afford Ryan's growing expenses, especially because he also had his own kids to take care of. A soccer scholarship helped Ryan to get into college, but it isn't a full one. Ryan still has to cover most of his expenses. He does that by working summer jobs and any job he can do while finding enough time to study during the semester.

Sharing an apartment was my idea. After spending the last three years being smothered by my parents, I'd decided it was about time I moved out. My parents weren't happy with that idea, but they agreed to foot the bill for a fully furnished apartment of my choice. Ryan had been by then living in a small one-bedroom apartment – which he struggled to pay for. I got the idea to share with him during one of his constant rants about the unsatisfactory maintenance in his apartment building. Mom had already looked up a fully furnished two-bedroom apartment with state of the art furniture in an affluent neighborhood for me, but when Ryan insisted on splitting the cost, it only made sense to look for a less pricey apartment.

I am not excited about the downgrade, but I am not disappointed either. Together we found an apartment we both liked. It isn't too far from college, and the neighborhood isn't shabby. It has two bedrooms, one bathroom, an open floor living and kitchen area and a study room. We bought some new furniture and Ryan contributed his old furniture.

Our apartment isn't too far from the elevator, which is very convenient, considering that we'd elected to move our stuff all by ourselves. With my box of soft toys in my arms, I stride into the packed living area. There are boxes and boxes of things, mostly mine. Ryan closes the door behind me as I put the box I'm carrying on the floor.

"This looks...wonderful," I say with my hands on my waist. I've never really considered how much it takes to move. I'd first had to pack my stuff (that took a week) and now I had to unpack it.

"It's mostly your stuff," Ryan points out with a grin on his face.

My instant reaction would be to grab a cushion and hit him with it, but there are no cushions on the couches. Those are in a box marked "Living room".

I take a deep breath. "I can do this!" I psyche myself up. The nearest box to me is the last box Ryan brought in, so I open that.

"How about we get some food first? I'm starving," Ryan says, coming to stand next to me.

"We could do that," I say. "Pizza?"

"I've had enough of pizza to last me a lifetime," he groans.

I chuckle. Ryan had just quit his job at a pizza place. He made the nighttime deliveries for the joint, and in addition to his wages, he shared free pizza with his colleagues just after his knock-off time.

"We could try that Indian place by Oxford," I suggested. "Or maybe Korean? There's a place just two blocks from here and they do deliveries. They gave me their deliveries menu. I put it in here somewhere."

Ryan looks at me like I am crazy and shakes his head. "I am ordering burgers, American burgers."

I roll my eyes. "You could try something new; you know...a foreign flavor"

"Oh I tried something new, and I didn't like it. Hand me your phone," he says.

I extend my phone to him. "You did try something foreign and liked it," I say with a wink.

"Hold that thought," he says with a smile and I realize he already has my phone to his ear.

I excuse myself to go to my bedroom. My new bedroom is not bare, but looks so lifeless. It has a bed, a closet, two nightstands, a large mirror and a small couch. Most of the furnishings are of expensive whitewashed wood, giving it that Mediterranean Sea feel. The color makes the room bright, but other than that it feels empty.

I stand at the door and plan where everything is going to go. I can already picture the bare walls adorned with blue paintings and ornaments I bought just a few days ago. I didn't buy the paintings though. I carefully painted them in my studio back home. I have done a few more for the living area, but the blue sea ones are definitely going into my room, and so is my drawing of a laughing Ryan.

Ryan and I each have a room to call our own, but I imagine that we'll be sleeping in one room more often than not. I hope we sleep in my room because Ryan's room is sure going to look boring. I can already picture the soccer posters on the wall and all the dirty clothes littering the floor.

I am so wrapped up in my imagination I don't notice as Ryan joins me at the door and wraps his arms around my waist.

"I do like your foreign flavor," he whispers seductively in my ear.

Blood floods my cheeks, and I chuckle to try and dispel it. I like teasing Ryan, but when he reciprocates I always feel so unprepared and vulnerable.

"Did you order the food?" I say, managing to keep my voice intact. I don't know if he's aware, but the feel of his body around me is tickling all my senses in a wonderful way.

He nods. I don't see him, but I feel his head caress my shoulder as it moves. "And now I want to order a different flavor of food."

"French?" I say slowly and bite my lip.

"...With just a little bit of American," he whispers.

I don't get much time to reply as he turns my body towards him. His strong arms pull me towards him.

"Heard it's the best thing around the block," I say, my voice coming out lower than I intended.

"The rumors aren't wrong," Ryan says right before he tilts my head slightly upwards and claims my lips.

I love the feel of his lips as they move on mine, and even more so when they move between mine. Our kiss is leisurely, but the seduction is much more powerful. It's the kind of kiss where you feel everything, taste everything. I love everything, including the slight tug on my lower lip, the feel of Ryan's fingers caressing my neck and the way he licks my lip before his tongue asks for entry.

My hands go to his waist to steady myself and I unconsciously tug on his t-shirt before raising it slightly so I can touch his bare waist. Almost instantly, the speed of our kiss increases. It's a nonverbal approval of my actions, and that fuels me on. Not before long, Ryan's t-shirt is off him and on the floor. Maybe it'll be my room with all the clothes on the floor after all.

The sound of my phone ringing in Ryan's shorts pocket interrupts us, forcing me to break the kiss.

"Julie. You can call her back," Ryan says after pulling out my phone only halfway. I can see he's in a rush to get back to where we were.

I don't complain when he claims my lips again without giving me a second to say anything. Our kiss quickly gets back to rhythm, but the rate increases. Ryan now has his hands in my long wavy jet-black hair. My hands are feverishly roving around his muscular back. With every tug of my lips I squeeze his back hard.

"What do you say we test out your new bed?" he says when he takes a breather.

I pull my head back to rest on the door frame.

"I'd love that," I say.

Ryan's face lights up beautifully. He plants an arm on either side of me and closes the little distance between us such that all I can breathe in is his manly scent. I can't help the moan that escapes me when he grinds into me. He lifts me up gently and I wrap my legs and hands around him.

"Your mattress has an innerspring, yeah?" he says.

"With high-quality foam," I respond with a cheeky smile.

"Let's see how that combination works," he says sultrily before I plant my lips on his, unable to stand the separation much longer.

*