While all cuddled up in the warmth of my twin bed, I heard the rhythm of rain tap-tap-tapping against my window.

It really didn't do a great job at motivating me to get up and go get ready to go to school. Instead, it made my eyes close, at peace, still floating in that area between wake and sleep.

I was then rudely awakened by my father knocking at my door.

"You better wake up, boy!" I heard Dad yell from outside my room. He must've come home from work sometime after I went to sleep. Don't sweat the yelling; he's a pretty good guy. Even if he does shout and curse at red lights.

"Yeah, yeah," I said as I rubbed my eyes.

At least I could pick out a good outfit for today. The weather made me break out a beautiful jacket I got when we lived in Europe, a wool one with those loop closures around the wooden pegs. I layered that over my long sleeve and corduroy pants.

After making myself decent, I made my way to the kitchen so I could announce my presence to my father.

"Your mom told me that you made some new friends? They good kids?"

"Yes, Dad." I said as I made my coffee. "They're nice."

"That's good. Got to keep those grades up and keep out of trouble for the Ivy League. Right, boy?"

"I know," I said, self-aware of all the little parties and underage drinking I've done in my short lifespan.

***

Dad drove me to school due to the rain, which I'm grateful for. Except that it was still 30 minutes before my first class, so that was pretty disappointing. So I made my way to the library and hung around. However, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Owsley arrive, his hair dark and damp and his glasses fogged up, arms wrapped around himself as he retreated into his coat.

I thought about Owsley and his drawing. Maybe he liked me, romantically speaking. Considering the poem in Mr. Pearlman's, it was a possibility.

I waved at him from the library. Owsley waved back, then came inside the library. He took the effort to wipe the bottom of his shoes at the doormat, but that didn't change the fact that the rest of him was soaking wet.

"Owsley! How's it going, man?" I said, moving my attention from whatever book I was reading at the moment.

Owsley pulled a chair from beside me and took a seat. "Nothing much. The bus that I thought left me turned out to just be 10 minutes late."

"Aw gee, that's rough. Sorry about that."

I sat in thought for a moment, wondering about my next move. A part of me wanted to tease the guy and give him a little something-something if he liked me so much. So I bit my lip and brushed my blond hair to the side and gave him a little compliment: "The drawing was great by the way. You really captured the placement of the moles on my face." And the cherry on top. "You haven't been staring at me in class, have you?" I said.

Owsley shrugged, putting his hands in his pocket, though I did notice his glance averting and maybe, just maybe, redness creeping up onto his face. "What can I say? You have a good 'drawing' face."

"Aw, what do you mean? Are you calling me ugly?"

"No," he laughed. "You're a handsome guy, really."

I giggled as well, "Oh, really?"

The bell rang hard in our ears, with no consideration for the conversation we were having. Owsley and I we exchanged shy smiles as he grabbed his things and shoved his chair back into the table.

"Well, see you later," he said, turning his head to the window. "God, I don't know how I'm gonna go home like this."

"I can keep you company after school if you'd like," I replied, looking up at him all innocent. "So it's not so bad."

"You sure? It's kind of far. Like, in the city."

"Yeah, I don't mind. We can work on homework or something at your place and I don't mind taking the train back."

Owsley looked back at me, deep in thought. He clutched hard at the straps of his backpack, then, answered, "Yeah, sure. I'd like that."