It was cliché.
No, not just cliché.
Kissing in the rain was the epitome of cliché. There was at least one scene in every romantic masterpiece ever done of couples flinging their arms around each other in the pouring rain and passionately kissing under the clouds of gray and over the flash floods. But Peggy didn't care. She loved to feel the droplets splash against her skin and breathe in the air storms always seemed to freshen up. And she also loved to push Capucine out of her comfort zone.
"No," Capucine protested firmly, digging the heels of her ballet flats into welcome mat to keep Peggy from dragging her out the door. "It's freezing out there and I just did my hair."
"It's refreshing," Peggy argued, refusing to let go of her girlfriend's hand. Capucine could combat her all she wanted, but she would take her out into the downpour. And she would kiss her. Her resolve was too strong to be deterred by petty excuses. "You can do your hair again later."
"There's lightning and mud out there. It's scary and it's gross, and no one in their right mind is going to go out in that storm." The honey-haired teen pooched her lip out in defiance. But she likely knew that she'd already lost the battle.
"Then we aren't in our right minds." With that, Peggy flung open the door and dashed out into the storm, pulling Capucine along behind her. Capucine shrieked in shock as the icy showers descended upon her. Chuckling, Peggy mercilessly tugged her through the puddles and the mist.
"I'm going to get you for this later," she shouted over the storm when they finally came to a stop. She sounded as angry as the roaring thunder, but Peggy couldn't find it in herself to be sorry. With the water cascading down Capucine's skin, dripping from her sodden honey locks, and collecting delicately in her lashes and on her upper lip, Peggy wasn't sorry at all. The water accented her girlfriend, who was the only source of color against the charcoal gray sky.
The journalist seized her her shoulders without a second thought, crashing their lips together as lightning streaked across the heavens. Capucine threw her arms around Peggy and kissed her back admits the orchestra of falling rain and rolling thunder.
It was the epitome of cliché, but it would have put any romance flick to shame.