By the time they climbed down from the treehouse, the air had changed. It wasn't just cooler — it felt alive, brushing against their skin in restless bursts. The path back toward the house smelled of wet leaves even though the rain hadn't come yet.
Mateo balanced Niko's ukulele on his shoulder like a rifle. "If the storm gets bad, I'm rescuing the snacks first."
"You mean my vinyl," Niko shot back, hopping off the last rung. "Snacks can drown, records can't."
Kaia rolled her eyes, hugging her book to her chest. "Both of you need better priorities."
Kai jogged ahead, phone raised, trying to catch a signal. "Forecast says just a tropical depression," he reported. "But... yeah, moving fast."
Elio pulled his shirt collar higher, dramatic as ever. "As long as my hair survives, so will I."
Celine followed a little behind, shoes crunching on the damp soil. She kept glancing at the horizon — at the way the clouds seemed to knit together, bruised purple against the fading light.
Beside her, Solana adjusted the strap of her camera, walking steady as if storms were nothing new. "It won't hit tonight," she said quietly. "Still, we should get the windows latched before dark."
Her calm was a strange comfort, and Celine found herself nodding.
By the time they reached Lola Marga's house, Tata Berto was already on the porch, sleeves rolled up, hammering nails into a loose shutter. "Ah, you kids finally back," he called over the rising wind. "Storm season's starting early this year. Help me tie down the chairs."
Everyone pitched in — Kaia gathering cushions, Mateo hauling a stack of firewood inside, Niko carefully sheltering his vinyls under his shirt. Elio took charge of saving the potted plants, giving each a solemn farewell as he carried them indoors.
Celine tried to help but paused on the steps, watching the sea. Out beyond the reef, the water heaved in slow swells, the surface silver-gray and restless.
Solana came up behind her with a bundle of rope. "First storm's always like this," she said. "Big entrance, then quiet once it passes."
"You sound sure."
"I grew up with them." Solana's eyes stayed on the horizon, unreadable but steady. "They're loud, but not as scary as they look."
Wind tugged a strand of Celine's hair across her face. Solana reached out without thinking, brushing it away — a small, easy gesture, gone as soon as it happened. Still, warmth bloomed where her fingers had grazed.
—
Inside, Niko struck a jaunty chord on the ukulele, testing how loud he'd have to play over the gusts. "Storm soundtrack!" he announced. Mateo immediately started drumming on a chair, and Elio declared himself lead vocalist, to everyone's groans.
Rain finally arrived — a soft patter at first, then sheets sweeping against the roof. Kaia lit a candle on the table, its glow flickering against the walls.
"Looks like we're camping here tonight," Niko said, plucking at the strings. "Roads get muddy fast."
"They always stay here when storms come," Lola Marga said from the kitchen, unbothered as she poured steaming cocoa into mugs. "This house is closest to town — safer than walking home in the dark."
No one seemed surprised. They were already tugging blankets from the hall closet, settling into familiar places as thunder rolled overhead.
Then the lights flickered twice... and went out completely.
A collective groan rose from the room.
"Showtime," Mateo said, holding the ukulele like a weapon. "Music or scary stories?"
"Music," Kaia said quickly, clutching her book to her chest.
So they played — Niko strumming soft, steady chords, Mateo throwing in harmonies, Elio belting dramatic improvs about "heroic blondes surviving the flood." Kaia laughed behind her pages, Kai joined on a makeshift drum, and even Lola hummed along as she moved about with a flashlight.
Celine curled on the sofa's arm, letting the candlelight and music mingle with the rain outside. The house smelled of wet wood and chocolate, a warm cocoon against the restless night.
—
Much later, after the songs dwindled into quiet chatter and one by one the others drifted to sleep in a sprawl of blankets, Celine found herself still awake. The rain had softened to a whisper on the roof. A single candle flickered on the table, throwing slow shadows against the walls.
Across the room, Solana sat near the window, knees drawn up, her face lit in half by moonlight breaking through a thin spot in the clouds. She was watching the storm-tossed sea, calm as if she had all the time in the world.
Celine hesitated, then padded over, careful not to wake the others. "Can't sleep?" she asked.
Solana looked up, eyes warm even in the dim light. "Just listening. The first storm always feels like... a reset."
There was a brief silence before Celine finally blurted out what's been on her mind since earlier.
"So... uh." Celine's voice came out lower than she intended. "You listen to Clairo?"
"Uh-huh." Solana's reply was calm, but her eyes flicked up through her lashes, catching the glow.
"You sounded... really good singing it."
A faint smile tugged at Solana's mouth, slow and deliberate. "Thanks."
Celine hesitated, her fingers tracing lazy patterns against the sill. "You kept... looking at me earlier," she said, words half-murmured.
Solana's brow arched slightly, teasing but gentle. "Maybe I was." She shifted forward, resting her elbow on her knee so she could lean in a little closer. "Did that bother you?"
Celine shook her head, a little too fast. "No. I just wondered why."
Instead of answering, Solana let the silence stretch, her gaze steady on Celine's face. Her hand slid across the floor, coming to rest just beside Celine's — close enough that their knuckles almost brushed. She tapped her fingertip once against the wood, then left it there, a quiet invitation.
Celine's pulse jumped. She shifted her own hand until the sides of their pinkies met. Solana glanced down at the touch, then back up, the corner of her lips lifting in a small, knowing smile. She turned her palm just enough so their fingers brushed again, softer this time.
"Sometimes," Solana murmured, voice nearly drowned by the patter of rain, "you don't have to explain everything right away."
Celine dared to look at her fully, meeting the calm steadiness in Solana's eyes. "But... you meant something, right?" she asked softly, barely trusting her own voice.
Solana tilted her head, a playful curve edging her smile. Her hooked pinky gave a tiny squeeze, just enough for Celine to feel it.
Their pinkies stayed linked, a fragile line neither of them wanted to break — a silent promise only they understood.
The storm rumbled outside, but inside, the only thing Celine felt was the slow thrum of Solana's heartbeat against the quiet.