Chrysalism
Chrysalism: n. the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension you understand perfectly.
Among Julie Taylor's long list of complaints against Dillon, Texas is this:
It almost never rains.
And if there's one thing Julie loves, it's rainstorms.
Lucky for her, one humid Saturday in April finally breaks a record dry spell and the sky opens up, unleashing sheets of rain.
A certain Tim Riggins is still living with the Taylors, though he is still asleep when the rain starts at 9 a.m. It wakes Julie, putting a wide smile on her face as she bounces out of her bed to look out her window.
The smile doesn't leave her face as she all but skips happily to the kitchen, not minding if it made noise as she passed Tim asleep on the couch. Living with the Taylors had been good for Tim—less drinking, consistent meals, reliable people. Even though Tim's brother had offered a few times to let Tim move back in, honestly, Tim didn't want to.
He liked the surprises at the Taylor house. Such as waking up to the sound of Julie Taylor making hot chocolate in early April. Coach, Mrs. Coach, and Gracie Bell were all gone. Tami wanted to return to work as a school counselor, and there was a professional development in Austin, and Eric hadn't wanted her to go alone…and thus, three of the four Taylors were gone for half a week.
And they'd left Tim and Julie alone in the house. Tim and Julie, who had kissed just two weeks ago. Of course, Julie was the only Taylor out of four who knew that. She was the only one who knew about the stargazing kiss, and all the secret, stolen ones that had come after that one.
"Jules, it has to be like ninety degrees outside, what are you doin'?" Tim asks, lifting his head from his pillows. His always too long hair is wild, but Julie likes it. The sight makes her smile.
"Y'know, hot chocolate gets a bad rap, with all the seasonal crap. I mean, people drink hot coffee and hot tea in the summer, so why not hot chocolate?" Julie says over her shoulder as she waits for the milk to boil.
Tim smiles at her, slow and lazy. "This is Texas. Nobody drinks hot tea here."
"I like to drink hot chocolate when it's raining. Is that such a crime?" Julie asks, smirking at Tim's confused expression.
"It's raining?" He asks, pulling himself from the couch. Tim is only wearing pajama pants—a request from Tami—and his chest was left bare. Julie feels heat rise into her face as she blushes.
You would think, with Tim's history, that the absence of Julie's parents would inspire him to do more than kiss Julie. But, a little to Julie's surprise, he hadn't.
If it were any other girl, maybe Tim would have. Not Julie Taylor, though. He wanted her in his life long-term, not just for a fling. So, even though he had thought about it, and even though he certainly wants to, he doesn't make a move like that toward Julie.
While stirring her hot chocolate, Julie watches Tim pull back the curtain on the living room window and peek outside. Rain is coming down in sheets thick enough that the neighbor's house is obscured from view.
As Tim looks outside, a bolt of lightning lights up his face and is soon followed by a loud clap of thunder.
"Oh, good!" Julie says, relief flooding her voice. "It is a thunderstorm."
Tim stoops to his bag, which has all of his clothes in it, and pulls on a Bud Light t-shirt. Though he's been living with the Taylor's for a little over a month, he hasn't unpacked, really. This living arrangement is supposed to be temporary, but Tim had heard Coach trying to wear his wife down and convince her to let Tim stay longer.
Which explains Tim's better, if not good, behavior. He's even been doing some homework under the sharp gaze of Tami Taylor. He likes living at the Taylors'. He likes having a family for the first time in his life, and he doesn't really want to give it up. Not yet. Not now that there are things going on with Julie.
Once his shirt is on, Tim strolls over to the kitchen. Julie has taken a seat at the kitchen table.
"So first stars, and now rain, huh?"
"You don't have to stay if you think it's lame," Julie says, ducking her head as a blush came into her cheeks.
"Why would I want to go anywhere?" Tim counters, taking her hot chocolate mugs from her hand and taking a sip without asking. Over the rim of the cup, he gives Julie a wink.
They are both aware that this much alone time would not be a common occurrence. If, and that was a mighty if, the Taylors found out about Tim and their oldest daughter, both knew they would be watched with hawk-like attention.
Julie smiles up at him as he asks, "What are the big rainy day plans?"
"You'll probably think it's boring, but I always watch movies on rainy days."
Tim honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd watched a full movie. Sometimes he and Tyra would start watching a movie, but they somehow always got distracted before the conclusion.
"Movies aren't boring. If they're good movies."
"What about Disney movies?"
And this is the morning conversation that brought Tim Riggins to where he is now: Sprawled on the Taylors' couch, watching Mulan, Julie Taylor laying against his chest, and rain coming down hard and heavy outside.
Julie likes how well they fit together. Her head tucks perfectly underneath Tim's chin. Their tangled together legs are actually comfortable. They kind of just fell into position perfectly, without all of the constant readjusting she had with Matt. It's dumb and cliché, but it reminded her of two puzzle pieces coming seamlessly together.
And Julie really likes the way, every so often, she feels Tim press a kiss into her hair.