—Jane Austen, Persuasion PROLOGUE SUMMER RAIN Half the sum of attraction, on either side, might have been enough. —Jane Austen, Persuasion The sky is bleached white in some places, bruised a foreboding gray in others. The street is slick with rain, and everything is washed of color except for him, as if we are in an old photo. His sea-green eyes and subtle strawberry hair stand out like a beacon in a storm. Do those eyes see that every time his hand flinches up to catch me in case I slip, I want to take it and keep holding on? Maybe he wants that too. The rain is beating down around us, but we don’t feel it. The harder the drops try to wash away our joy, the more we smile. A flame sparks in his eyes and a childlike smile curves his mouth. Then he jumps into a puddle with both feet, soaking me through. I just laugh, offering my face to the sky, taunting it to do its worst. When I open my eyes, he is watching me. Has the rain rinsed away his smile after all? Looking at him, I want to memorize every detail: the way his white shirt clings in pleats to his soaked skin, each raindrop on his eyelashes, the smattering of golden freckles on his face and arms.
