"Talk to me," I shout over the thunderous rain. She wanted that kiss as much as I did. I know she did. She said so. "What's wrong? What did I do wrong?"
She shakes her head, and her bottom lip trembles. I can't tell if it's because she's cold or because she's crying. God, please don't let her be crying. I drag my hand down her arm and lace our fingers. She doesn't pull away.
"Please, Belle." If she doesn't tell me what's wrong, I don't know what I'll do.
"Take me back to my car."
"I can't drive the bike until the rain slows down. It's not safe." I've obviously already upset her; I'm not about to do anything else to harm her. "Let's go back under the pier and wait for the rain to stop."
"I just want to go home." Her voice is strained, and that's when I know for certain: she's crying. My heart sinks. All I want to do is make things better. She averts her gaze, refusing to look at me.