" Bring a change of clothes tomorrow" he texted." I have a surprise for you" He didn't text after that. Recently we had some misunderstandings, a few fights, and he wanted to lighten up the mood. He wanted to make up for the sour moments we had lately. I wasn't too upset over them. I knew college had us both on edge, we'd been stressed with finals, family feuds and we really needed a moment to relax.
The next day I went to the UPR and I completely forgot about the change of clothes. Always so scatter brained, always distracted. I walk the broken side walks of my university always looking down. I enjoy following the cracks, my eyes trace them like the veins on the forearm of my favorite campus, they lead me to the student center. He's waiting for me there, and just as I am approaching the building it starts drizzling. The food court is on the first floor. The computer room, the musician corner. Sbarro's. Pollo Tropical. Burger King. Church's Chicken. The wooden stage in the open balcony graffiti'd with cheap philosophy and dick doodles. This is not where I go. Instead I head to the second floor which has been closed and abandoned for six years. That's my spot. The murky ruins of a once functional facility is now my solace. The side entrance by the stairs is boarded up, but the barred window isn't. I slide between the wooden board and the iron bars easily. I am a slim figure, I could make for a great spy. I walk towards the end of the hollow hallway to find him. I love the quiet dark echos of this place. It's a comforting secret, an oasis of dirty debris and rusty desks. It's my favorite labyrinth, it brings me peace, I feel protected like a child inside a pillow fort. I see him standing by the leathery mustard-colored couch. Immediately he notices my empty hands.
" I told you to bring extra clothes!" He whined. I didn't think he was serious. He greeted me with a kiss and a hug, his face lit up as he saw the skies darkening. The metal frames of the half constructed windows rumbled with each thunder.The drizzle intensified into full rain. A downpour of frustrations swayed around us as we watched from the balcony of that abandoned floor. He told me we were going downstairs. We jumped through the side of the balcony, slid past the iron bars and we made our way towards the rain. It was insanely crowded the way the Caribbean students gather so as to not catch pneumonia. The sighs of frustration and the murmur of the heated crowd was dense and it hurt my ears. Crowds hurt my ears. I can't breathe near them, so as I closed my eyes to forget about the noise and he took my hands and pulled me outside.
I looked at him. He gleamed with such joy. He kissed my lips and held me in position.
One, two, three, four five six...
One, two, three, four, five, six...
He tried for many months to teach me how to dance. It seemed like all his efforts revolved around this moment. Dancing in the rain. Dancing around the forming currents leading us down the road, under the trees, into the dirt. He took my hands and my waist and he spun me around. There was no music. There was barely any sound other than the rain's white noise and our winded breath. He moved my hips and kept telling me to let go, to not be so stern, to feel the rhythm, the heat of the steps. I danced like I never had before. We danced under the cold rain and the ever growing rivers that flowed through the side walk's veins.We swam in the flooded air and it was paradise. I sat down in the middle of the concrete sidewalk as the downpour kept falling. The water was cold, but the current was consistent. Like the nozzle of my stress had finally been opened and spread. The rain was all of our troubles gathered into one beautiful manifestation. You could run away from it, or you could dance under it. Either way it's the drastic changes in temperature that gets you sick, not the rain itself.
After about an hour, we walked back to the student center. I was freezing. He had been right. I should've brought a change of clothes. We were on the first floor, he said " We should go upstairs to take our clothes off and squeeze as much water out of them." I said no. No babe. I know myself. I knooow myself. I won't go to class. You won't go to class. If we go upstairs you know what will happen. He said " No. It won't happen, I'll make sure of that. ". I squinted at him, icy goblets dripping from my eyelashes. I was skeptical, but I was cold. He assured me " We won't have sex, I promise. It will just be to dry ourselves a bit, because otherwise pneumonia is definitely going to follow. "
I have nothing against sex. I love it. I really do. But I know my weaknesses. My passions. My distractions, I know in my head where my priorities lie, but in the heat of the moment, my body tends to forget.And I really need to pass my classes. I can't skip any more.
I told him, okay. Let's go upstairs to dry ourselves. We really are drenched. We went and sat on the mustard-colored couch. I took off my pants and my shirt and I twisted the hell out of them. The problem wasn't so much the water anymore as it was the breeze. I trembled in my underwear. He sat next to me. He hugged me. He rubbed my arms so the friction could comfort me. He held my waist. He held my jaw up and he kissed me. He kissed me some more. He kissed me deeper, both of us in our underwear, both of us cold. He pressed me against him and kissed me hungrily. I pulled away from him and said no. No, you promised. He said "Just let me kiss you.." And he moved towards me. He held my head in place and pressed his hungry mouth on mine, his hands grabbed my arms firmly, slowly pushing me to lay on the couch. I didn't want him to feel rejected, but it made me uneasy. He broke his promise. And I said no.I kept saying no and he kept going.I didn't struggle too much against him. I told him no, but somehow it seemed to turn him on more. He passionately pressed me against the couch and pulled off my underwear. He kissed my neck and pinned me down, his hand started feeling me, exploring me, he already knew his way around me. He knows what I like, he knows the rhythm I enjoy, he knows the pressure that drives me insane, physiologically he plays me like a piano masterfully. But I wasn't in my body anymore. I wasn't responding to his touch the way he wasn't responding to my requests. I asked him to stop one last time before he spread my legs and let himself in. I turned my face away from him. I kept quiet, and secretly hoped he'd finish soon. The rain that was left on his hair dripped on my face. It wasn't cold anymore. He pushed into me rhythmically, his breath on my neck was warm and heavy. The sweet rain now replaced with salty warm sweat, at least I wasn't cold anymore. I closed my eyes and bit my tongue and I tried to breathe easy. Then he finished. And he looked at me. His eyes widened. His face froze into an expression of overwhelming panic and disbelief. Almost as if he had woken from a nightmare. Rapidly he gathered himself and he sat away from me.
He hid his face in his hands. "You're mad aren't you.." he murmured through his shame.
Yeah, no shit Sherlock. I said. And he started to cry. " I'm so sorry.." he repeated. " I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened. I don't know what came over me.." he said as he sobbed. The rain, and the sweat now co-joined by tears dripping from his trembling lips. I put my arm around him to try to comfort him and he pulled away from my touch. " No... Don't" It's okay...I said. It's okay... It's okay...It's okay...I comforted him. I snuggled him into my arms. I told him it was okay. I held him close to my now tepid and confused body. I tried to not make him feel judged, or condemned, or abandoned or hopeless. I didn't really struggle after all, right? I mean I just laid there. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I didn't push him away. Maybe psychologically I did want him to? Maybe I should've been louder, fought harder, maybe if I had, I would've gotten through to him. I mean, he loves me. I should've raised my voice. Been more assertive. I should've pressed my point further into not coming up to the second floor. I mean, what kind of message did I send him by agreeing to come up to an abandoned floor in a building for us to take our clothes off and "dry" them. I'm so naive. I should've known better. I should've stood my ground. I let him take over.
It was my fault.
I stayed with him. Comforting him from the experience he had just gone through. The cold slowly rushing back. I joked around to make him laugh. I kissed him lightly on the lips and smiled. I told him I loved him. The rest of the afternoon I spent it there with him. Trying my best not to ruin the wonderful rainy day he had planned for us.
Needless to say I missed my class.
I put it out of my mind afterwards. But I started to avoid being in isolated places with him. I'd invite friends to hang out with us. I'd leave doors open. Automatically, these habits formed in my brain without my know-how. He wasn't violent. He isn't violent. He is a kind soul who gets confused sometimes.
I wasn't afraid of him, I promise.
But I haven't danced in the rain since.
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