“Honey,” Alyson cooed sardonically as she walked along the empty sidewalk, her charcoal hair clinging, flaccid, to her cheeks as the November rain pounded down on her relentlessly. Although nearly everything around her was dull and gray, all she could see was his blue eyes, staring longingly past her, and his soft lips – kissing a pair of lips that didn’t belong to her.

“Baby,” she said with a grimace, anger boiling to the surface of her composure. She clenched her eyes shut to fight back the tears, but every time the darkness gave way to images of him, his arms wrapped around another girl who he was kissing and telling he loved her – words that had been reserved for Alyson for the past two years.

With a snarl she kicked an innocent nearby trash can, knocking it over and spilling its contents into the street. Dissatisfied with this small random act of violence, she turned and pounded her fists against the apartment building’s brick wall with a shriek of anguish, swinging again and again until her knuckles were bloody and she erupted into sobs.

“Sweetheart,” she whispered, sinking down onto the concrete steps and burying her face in her hands as she cried. It was what he had called her when she had caught them together. She had found them in her bedroom, half-clothed with their lips locked together ardently. Alyson couldn’t even breathe until he had said her name. Awakened from her catatonia, she ran out of the apartment without looking back.

“Sweetheart, wait!” he pleaded. But his voice only spurred her feet faster; to look back and see the bare chest that girl had been kissing lustily was more than she could bear. And so she ran into the rainy streets, until her lungs burned and she no longer knew where she was.

“Honey, baby, sweetheart,” she laughed bitterly to herself, roughly wiping the tears from her eyes. “How could I have been so stupid?”

“Funny. You don’t look very stupid to me.”

Alyson turned to see a boy staring down at her curiously from inside the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. He was approximately her age, with brown eyes and woodsy brown hair, and immaculately defined facial features – he would be cute if she cared.

She let out another bitter laugh. “And I thought my boyfriend was a decent guy. First impressions can be deceiving.”

“So that’s what it is then,” he said with a degree of understanding. “I was wondering why a pretty girl like yourself was sitting all alone in the pouring rain.”

She sighed dejectedly, almost annoyed with this perceptive stranger. “It’s complicated,” she assured him, turning away and once more resting her face in her palms.

“Let me guess,” he challenged as he took a seat next to her on the stairs. “You were with him for a couple of years, so convinced he was the love of your life, and then he cheated on you with some cheap hussy.”

“What else do you know about me?” she snapped caustically.

He gave a wry smile. “You’re generally a calm person who’s not caught up with appearances. And you think you’re naturally beautiful.”

“And how, might I ask, did you deduce this?”

His smile widening, he said simply, “Blue shirt, tattered Chucks, no make up.”

Alyson raised an eyebrow defiantly. “Have you considered that maybe I don’t wear make up for the sole reason that I’m lazy?” she scoffed.

The boy shook his head. “Sorry, but it’s just fact that a girl as beautiful as you knows she’s gorgeous.”

She sighed in defeat, looking up at the gray sky sorrowfully and letting the drops of water hit her face. “Leave it to a guy to hit on a girl when she’s most vulnerable.”

He threw up his hands defensively, an expression of bewildered innocence appearing at the accusation. “I had no such intentions!”

Alyson gave a weak smile. “I didn’t say you had to stop.”

He sighed in exasperation, saying, “Honey, I think your problem is that you’re passive and pessimistic. You rely on others to take the lead, and then, when someone makes a mistake, you automatically begin to assume the worst of everyone else’s intentions.”

“Never call me ‘honey,’” Alyson commanded angrily. The very word sent a repulsed shiver down her spine.

“What can I call you then?” he inquired honestly. “You never gave me your name.”

“You never gave me yours,” she countered.

He rolled his eyes with an amused smile at Alyson’s defensiveness. “I’m Jonathan.”

“I’m Alyson.”

“All right then. Nice to meet you, Alyson,” he said warmly, extending his hand.

Alyson shook it slowly, suspicious. “So what am I supposed to think of your intentions? When a gorgeous guy suddenly appears to comfort a crying girl, he’s usually looking to be a nice rebound.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but laugh. “Just because one guy’s that way, it doesn’t mean we all are. I’m not one to take advantage; if I think a girl is vulnerable, I won’t even kiss her.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So why even bother talking to me?”

“Well, you did knock over my trash,” he teased.

“That’s all?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to make you feel better.”

Am I sincerely supposed to believe that?”

Jonathan gave a sly, victorious smile. “I haven’t seen a tear roll down your face since the moment I stepped outside.”

Alyson laughed inwardly as Jonathan got to his feet. “The weather’s only going to get worse from here,” he stated with a frown. “Why don’t you come inside – no strings attached, I swear. It would just be tragic if you died of pneumonia out here while I was sitting in my apartment all warm and toasty.”

He helped her to her feet, but as he opened the door to enter the building, Alyson froze, taking hold of his wrist. Jonathan looked back at her, puzzled, until her lips gently met his; his eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but immediately he drew her closer, and she wrapped her arms around his neck readily.

The rain fell down in torrents, and not another soul filled the street. The world was dull and gray, but Alyson saw none of it; she closed her eyes as he kissed her, but no cruel visions assailed her mind. No longer would she think of him; no longer would she mourn for him; no longer would she be his honey, baby, sweetheart.