The walk home from school had been going normally—if you could call bickering with Scaramouche normal. The two of you argued over your latest report cards, voices rising with each passing insult.

“You could’ve done better on that math test if you weren’t so distracted,” Scaramouche sneered, hands stuffed into his pockets as he walked beside you, his sharp eyes glinting in amusement.

“Distracted? The only distraction I had was you,” you shot back, glaring at him. “Maybe if you stopped acting so smug all the time, I would’ve aced it.”

Before Scaramouche could retort, the sky darkened overhead, and the first drops of rain began to fall. At first, it was just a light drizzle, but in mere moments, the rain grew heavier, drenching you both.

“Great. Just what I needed,” you muttered, pulling your soaked blazer tighter around you, as if that would do anything.

Scaramouche groaned, running a hand through his now-drenched hair. “My place is closer. Let’s go.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward the park.

“Wait—what? Why your place?” you asked, stumbling after him.

“Because I’m not walking all the way to your house in this rain,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And we’re not standing here arguing like idiots, either.”

As you neared the park, you spotted his motorcycle gleaming under the dim, overcast sky. The two of you approached it quickly, but you soon noticed the problem: your school uniforms were white, and now soaked through.

You froze, glancing down at your shirt, which clung to your skin like a second layer. Unfortunately, the realization hit Scaramouche too, and his lips curled into a smirk as his eyes flicked over to you.

“Well, well. Looks like your uniform has… betrayed you,” he commented, his tone dripping with mockery. “You sure you want to ride with me looking like that?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Shut up, Scara.”

He laughed, the sound low and teasing, but didn’t press further.