"You think so?"
The old woman frowned, lost in thought.
Why did it seem to her like Stella was acting totally cold toward the guy?
—
The rain was coming down in sheets.
Stella clutched her backpack tightly against her chest.
Her right shoulder was tucked securely under Roger's arm, her left side plastered flush against his chest as she took quick, short steps to keep pace with him.
Despite the torrential storm, apart from her shoes, she didn't have a single drop of water on her.
Stella shrank in on herself and glanced over, only to realize the tiny umbrella was angled almost entirely over her head.
Roger's entire left side was drenched, rainwater dripping steadily from his soaked clothes.
"Roger..." Stella's chest tightened. She tilted her head back to look at him, her voice barely a whisper. "Your clothes..."
"It's fine."
He didn't even spare himself a glance, utterly unfazed. "Just stay close to me. Don't get wet."
He had heard about her fragile health, how she had spent years confined to a hospital bed.
She had finally recovered, and a brutal cold was the last thing she needed.
"But..."
Stella bit her lip, wanting to argue. "You have to go back to work. How are you supposed to go in looking like that..."
Roger suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, his dark, piercing gaze locking onto hers.
Meeting those intense, bottomless eyes, her words died in her throat.
A few seconds later, she ducked her head, instinctively retreating into her shell.
She didn't dare say another word.
"Got any candy?" Seeing her shrink away, Roger swallowed hard, his voice raspy. "The spice from that food is burning a hole in my stomach."
"I do."
Stella dug into her pocket and pulled out a piece of candy Charlotte had given her. "Here," she offered softly.
She had no idea how they had leaped from a conversation about the umbrella straight to... candy.
"I'm holding the umbrella."
Roger didn't make a move to take it. "My hands are tied. Help me out?"
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