Read Online The Weight of Rain by Mariah Dietz - Free Book Online

don’t even know where to start on that one.” A chill shoots down my spine as I catch several drops of rain in the face from looking up, and I shrug before facing her again. “It doesn’t matter if a person is purple, green, male, female, gay, or straight. All that matters is that they love you, protect you, and care for you. Hell, even with your brooding attitude and death glares, I’ve started to fall in love with you and feel these really weird surges of motherhood that scare the shit out of me because I don’t want to have kids. Obviously you have something great in you for that to occur.”
    I feel like I’m modeling in front of a class of artists again with the way she’s reading each of my features.
    “Are you ready to go home?” I ask.
    “Yeah.” Her reply nearly gets lost in the sounds of the city, her voice is so quiet.
    “Let’s go. We’ll order a pizza on the bus.”
    The two of us turn, my hand still firmly gripping her shoulder, now less because of my fear that she’ll run and more because I want to comfort her.
    “Hey, Lo?”
    I’m sure my surprise at her calling me Lo is written across my face as a small smile turns her lips up. “I only like cheese on my pizza.”
    “I’m good with that.”
    Her smile widens, and I know I’ll be sketching this expression in the near future. It’s frame worthy.

 
    I PULL the third load of laundry for the day—a heap of white shirts—from the washer and shove them into the dryer. My hands freeze. I think all of me has. A familiar scent is tickling all of my senses, causing my thoughts to race in a void of blankness. I reach for the same pile of shirts and bring them to my nose. The clean, crisp scent of the laundry detergent is prevalent, but there’s also the faint trace of men’s cologne, or body wash—something male. I take another deep breath before dropping them back into the dryer. Maybe it’s the same laundry detergent my mom uses? Or the cologne from someone I know? Or maybe it’s simply the act of doing laundry that’s making a piece of my mind think of home, but something has me feeling weak and dazed with nostalgia.
    “Lo, you know you don’t have to keep cleaning, right?”
    I turn to acknowledge Kash. I’ve started calling him the nickname that the others all use in the last week, though it sometimes still rolls off my tongue a little strangely. My cheeks heat as my nails run along my forehead. “Yeah, I know.” I don’t see much of him, and when I do, Summer and Parker are usually close behind. The way Summer watches him, tracking his movements and always being a step ahead of what he seems to ask or think of, makes me fairly confident she has feelings for him, but Kash is difficult to figure out. He is flirty and kind to her, but he is with me as well. I think it’s just his personality to be that way.
    He smiles and takes a step back so I can exit the laundry room.
    “How’s it going? Are things working out with your professor now that you’re attending your Wednesday class?” Kash tilts his head with a slight mock lighting his eyes. I finally had to approach him and discuss coming later on Wednesdays so I could attend my Comparative Art History class after being reminded by a friend that attendance alone is thirty-five percent of my grade.
    “Yeah, thanks.” My professor is still intentionally calling on me more than any of the other students to prove his point, but thankfully, I’m catching up.
    “How have things been going here?”
    “Good. Mercedes is in her room finishing homework, so I thought I would put in a load really quick,” I say as we head back upstairs.
    “Homework? I didn’t hear any complaining.”
    “Yeah, I bribed her with ice cream.”
    Kash laughs, following me into the kitchen where he leans both elbows on the granite counter covering the bar. “So, I saw on your paperwork that you’re from Montana.”
    Appreciative of the change in topic, I nod. He can’t be oblivious to the fact that