The rain came down in relentless sheets, a gray curtain obscuring the world beyond Rieke’s family home. Inside her bedroom, the air was warm, scented faintly with lavender from a candle flickering on her nightstand. The patter of rain against the window was a steady drumbeat, a backdrop to the chaos about to unfold. Rieke lounged on her bed, one leg dangling over the edge, flipping through a magazine with a bored expression—until the doorbell chimed.
She smirked, already knowing who it was. Ben. Poor, predictable Ben, who’d texted her an hour ago whining about being caught in the storm on his way over. She didn’t bother rushing. Let him stew a little, she thought, tossing the magazine aside and sauntering down the hall to the front door.
When she swung it open, there he was—sodden, miserable, and looking like a drowned rat. His dark hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping off the tip of his nose, and his jacket clung to him like a second skin. Rieke leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her hazel eyes glinting with mischief.
“Well, well, look what the storm dragged in,” she drawled, her voice dripping with amusement. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to check the forecast, genius?”
Ben scowled, shivering as a gust of wind sent a fresh spray of rain against his back. “Hilarious, Rieke. Can I come in, or are you just gonna stand there gloating?”
“Oh, I could gloat all day,” she said, stepping aside with an exaggerated flourish. “But fine, get in here before you flood my porch. You’re a walking puddle.”
He trudged past her, leaving wet footprints on the hardwood floor, and Rieke shut the door with a dramatic sigh. “You’re hopeless, you know that? A little rain, and you’re acting like it’s the end of the world. Big baby.”
“I’m not a baby,” Ben muttered, peeling off his soaked jacket with a grimace. “It came out of nowhere, okay? One minute it’s fine, the next I’m in a freaking monsoon.”
Rieke tilted her head, her lips curling into a wicked grin as she watched him struggle with his dripping clothes. “Uh-uh, no way. You’re not staying in those. You’ll catch pneumonia or something, and I’m not nursing your sorry butt back to health. Strip.”
Ben froze, his hands on the hem of his shirt, and shot her a wary look. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she said, her tone sharp but playful, as she planted her hands on her hips. “Off with the wet stuff. I’ve got something dry you can wear. Unless you wanna sit there shivering like a lost puppy. Your call.”
He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can’t I just… I don’t know, sit by a heater or something? I don’t need your clothes.”
“Oh, please,” Rieke scoffed, already turning on her heel and heading toward her bedroom. “Don’t be such a prude. I’m not asking you to parade around in lingerie—yet.” She tossed the last word over her shoulder with a smirk, relishing the way his face reddened.
“Rieke!” he called after her, but she was already rifling through her dresser, pulling out an oversized pastel pink t-shirt with a cartoon cat on the front. She held it up, biting her lip to suppress a laugh, then grabbed a pair of soft gray shorts from another drawer. Perfect.
When she returned to the living room, Ben was still standing there, arms crossed, looking like a sulking child. She thrust the shirt at him, her grin wide and unapologetic. “Here. Put this on. And don’t even think about arguing.”
He stared at the shirt, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m not wearing this. It’s… it’s pink. And there’s a cat on it.”
“So what?” Rieke shot back, stepping closer until she was right in his personal space, her voice low and taunting. “You scared of a little color, tough guy? Afraid it’ll ruin your big, bad reputation? Come on, Ben, live a little. Or are you too chicken?”
“I’m not chicken,” he grumbled, snatching the shirt from her hands with a glare. “I just don’t see why I can’t borrow something… normal.”
“Because normal is boring,” she replied smoothly, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Now quit stalling and change. Bathroom’s down the hall. Unless you want me to watch. I’m cool with that, too.”
Ben’s ears turned scarlet, and he muttered something under his breath as he shuffled off to change. Rieke flopped onto the couch, crossing one leg over the other, and waited with barely contained glee. When he finally emerged, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud.
The shirt was comically tight across his shoulders, the cartoon cat stretched over his chest, and the pastel pink made his flushed face stand out even more. He looked utterly ridiculous—and utterly adorable. Rieke’s mind raced with possibilities, a spark of something devious igniting in her chest. Oh, this was just the beginning.
“Well, damn,” she said, dragging the words out as she leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “Look at you, rocking my wardrobe better than I do. I’m almost jealous.”
“Shut up,” Ben snapped, tugging at the hem of the shirt as if that would somehow make it less humiliating. “This is temporary. The second my clothes are dry, I’m out of this.”
“Not so fast,” Rieke said, hopping up and grabbing the shorts from where she’d left them on the armrest. She dangled them in front of him, her smile pure mischief. “You’re only halfway there, babe. These are basically unisex. Super comfy, I promise. Put ‘em on.”
“No way,” he said, shaking his head vehemently. “I draw the line at shorts. This is already bad enough.”
“Oh, come on,” she teased, stepping closer again, her voice dropping to a playful purr. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a pair of shorts now. What’s next, you gonna run screaming from a skirt? Live a little, Ben. I dare you.”
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face, but the way her eyes locked onto his—sharp, commanding, and daring him to say no—made it clear he wasn’t getting out of this. “You’re the worst,” he muttered, snatching the shorts from her. “I hate you.”
“You love me,” she shot back, winking as he stomped off to change again. When he returned, the shorts hugging his thighs in a way that made her smirk even wider, she couldn’t resist. “Oh, my God, you’re killing me. You look like a frat boy who lost a bet. It’s perfect.”
“Rieke, I swear—” he started, but she cut him off with a laugh, pulling out her phone with a speed that caught him off guard.
“Hold that pose, pretty boy,” she said, snapping a quick photo before he could react. The flash went off, and Ben’s eyes widened in horror.
“What the hell?! Delete that right now!”
“Not a chance,” she said, holding the phone out of his reach as he lunged for it. She danced back, her laughter ringing through the room. “This is gold. Pure, blackmail-worthy gold. You look adorably pathetic, by the way. I might frame this.”
“Rieke, I’m serious!” he growled, but there was no real heat behind it, just flustered embarrassment.
“Relax, big guy,” she said, finally lowering the phone but not before shooting him a look that promised she wasn’t done with him yet. “I’ll keep this our little secret… for now. But you owe me for not letting you freeze to death in those wet rags. So play nice, okay?”
He slumped onto the couch, burying his face in his hands, and Rieke perched on the armrest beside him, her grin never faltering. The rain continued to pour outside, but inside, the air crackled with a different kind of storm—one of tension, teasing, and the first whispers of a game Rieke was only just beginning to play. She glanced at the photo on her phone one last time, her mind already spinning with ideas. Oh, this was going to be fun.
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