One night changed my life—one that I barely remember. When I close my eyes, my mind paints a picture of his smile and shades the contours of his hands, the deep scar around his bicep. I'm an artist, yet my hands are unsteady. With his presence, he has unknowingly broken that something inside of me that makes me who I am.
Being around him is like standing in a rainstorm. First the drops tickle my skin, and then they coat me, refusing to be ignored. Finally, they soak into me, reaching parts of me I don’t think anyone has ever touched.
When dreams turn into reality, will the picture in my mind transfer to paper?
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“Why are you fidgeting again?” Allie’s scolding is in the form of a whisper but still reaches my ears as a yell because I know by the sharp look in her eye that she’s ready to stab me with a pin if I don’t stop.
“Sorry,” I whisper. I work to ignore an itch on the back of my neck and another on my shoulder. As I think about how much I hate standing still and why I didn’t see King at all today though he always works in the home office on Fridays, I feel several more tickles across my skin that arise because I know I can’t move.
My eyes scan over the large space that we’re filling. There are at least two hundred other students in here, each with a model who, like me, is standing atop a crate, making a select few of us even more uncomfortably tall. Several people look perfectly relaxed as they stand completely still, their shoulders back and chins raised as though they’re already on stage. My eyes trace over each of them, noticing their poise, boldness, and beauty.
“She’s really pretty.”
Allie’s looks up at me with minimal interest.
“Who?”
“The girl over there with the dark blond hair.” I nod in the direction of where she’s standing.
“You’re an artist, Lo. She’s definitely pretty, but her confidence is what makes her stand out so much.”
Allie’s comment makes me stare longer at the girl, noticing her eyes are a little too close together, and her forehead too short to be what is believed to be the definition of attractive. It brings me to hate those ignorant facts even more because she is beautiful, and I’m grateful she seems to believe so without meeting the dictated standards.
“Lo,” Allie hisses in warning, making my hand drop from where it’s rubbing across my mostly bare thigh.
“You should really consider asking Kenzie.”
“I would have if I had known you have ADHD. What’s with you?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s because you can’t draw, huh?” My attention drops to Allie as she places another pin along the hemline.
“That’s definitely not helping.”
“When do you think you’ll be able to hold a pencil again? Are your professors freaking out?”
“I don’t know. I’m hoping by the end of this week so I can draw while I’m home for Christmas.”
“Are you excited?” Her gaze remains fixed on the dress as I raise my eyebrows, her question sinking into my thoughts.
“I guess. I don’t know.”
“You don’t talk about your family much.” Allie’s eyes dart to mine for just a fraction of a second, but I’m sure it’s long enough to notice mine working to evade contact.
“There’s not a whole lot to say.”
“What happened to your mom this week?” I feel her briefly glance up again before moving her hands to a new spot where she begins measuring the fabric for the next pin.
“Something came up. I’m sure I’ll see her after the holidays. You know how this time of year is.”
She places a white chalk pencil between her teeth and nods slowly as if debating that it’s the correct response. She frees it again, intently focusing on the fabric, and places a careful mark. “You aren’t mad?”
I shrug, earning a glare from her that I return with a frown. Her lips fall open into a laugh. “You just need to focus on someone and mentally draw them; otherwise, you’re never going to make it out of here tonight, at least not without a thousand pinholes.”
My neck twists as I look around the room again. There are so many people in here. So much beauty, anticipation, desire, and passion: things I seek for my own inspiration, yet when I close my eyes and start sketching lines across my imagination, they don’t make up anyone that’s in here. I think I’d be surprised at this point if they ever do again. There are times like yesterday when I genuinely wish I hated him. Hell, he’s been a jackass to me enough that I could justifiably say I do, and anyone would be able to understand where I’m coming from. Then again, that would also require having someone to discuss my feelings for and interactions with him.
I wish I hadn’t been exposed to the kinder sides of him.
I wish I didn’t see how he acts around Mercedes to witness his unconditional love for her.
I wish my memories of that night were fading rather than becoming clearer.
I wish I wasn’t falling for this asshole.
I wish he’d fall for me.
This book is so full of feels, that you are transported into living the book instead of just reading it. Mariah has a way of making you a part of the story, not just reading it but living and breathing it. Every book written by Mariah gets better and better and Weight of Rain is her finest work yet.
Lauren is a bit of a loner. With only a few friends, she gets lost in her world of art. Taking in every aspect of the world around her. There seems to be one person she just can't get out of her mind. He's a mystery. An enigma. Yet she can remember the plains of his body, the curve of his lips, the scars that riddle his body. She just doesn't know who he is. After months of trying to remember, asking anyone who may know who this guy is...she gives up. That is until he literally walks back into her life one day, sending her world is a spin. She doesn't know whether to be giddy with joy that he's back in her life, or want to stab the arrogant asshole who seems to take joy in teasing her about their one night. Turns out to be the night that neither of them can forget.
Crossed paths and miscommunication brought them to where they are now. But can either of them walk away?
The book paints the story in vivid details, but not in a way that is too wordy or overdone. You know their thoughts, their fears, their hopes. Getting drawn in, turning page after page, needing to know more.
Secondary characters take a piece of your heart along with Lauren and King and you care for the entire group as a whole.
This book is definitely in my top 5 for 2015 and Mariah is a contender that I hope more and more people discover - a true diamond in the rough.
Mariah Dietz lives in Eastern Washington with her husband and two sons that are the axis of her crazy and wonderful world.
Mariah grew up in a tiny town outside of Portland, Oregon where she spent the majority of her time immersed in the pages of books that she both read and created.
She has a love for all things that include her sons, good coffee, books, travel, and dark chocolate. She also has a deep passion for the stories she writes, and hopes readers enjoy the journeys she takes them on, as much as she loves creating them.
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