'Cause I'm walking down this road alone,

And I figured all I'm thinking about is you, is you, my love

My head is in a cloud of rain, and the world it seems so far away

And I'm just waiting to fall and sink into your skin

You are like the raindrops, the raindrops, falling down on me.

-"Droplets", Colbie Caillat

Another wet drop fell mercilessly from the sky and spread onto her skin, before gliding off and joining the rest of its companions that were flowing freely along the gray pavement.

Her eyes were half-closed as she stared straight ahead, with only a flimsy green jacket shielding her from the heavy rain that pounded effortlessly onto her body. Despite the constant pitter-patter that reverberated through her ears, the streets were very quiet. She could hear her three-year-old New Balance running sneakers squeaking every few steps as they touched the cemented sidewalk, then lifted, and finally went back down to the ground again.

She was free, she reminded herself. Free as clouds drifting calmly along the blue sky on a sunny day. She was leaving her small town uncluttered, with a bachelor's degree from a prestigious university and a coveted position in a large financial consulting firm. Nothing could go wrong.

Her foot stepped into a deep puddle and soaked her jeans mid-knee. She could feel the cold wetness seeping through the soles of her shoes and into her socks.

Except, the only thing that made her life right…was gone.

Noah Baker. An ordinary name for an extraordinary boy. If he were peanut butter, she would be jelly. If she were the sea? He would be the waves, gently nudging until she would make it to shore. At least, that was how she felt, once upon a time. Now he was just another page in Caroline's Recorded Events of Her Life. Except he was not really a page anymore—he was just a brief mention, a footnote, fine print.

They met in college. Both first-year students majoring in Economics, intelligent, sarcastic, and honest, but the similarities ended there. He was all encompassing, and she was just there. Whenever he raised an arm up during lecture, all eyes would be on him. And when he spoke, the clear, precise tones of his voice drew in all the ears of the room.

He was not handsome, though, at least not classically good-looking. When most people looked at him, they would only hold their gaze for a few seconds before going back to their previous engagements. His face did not stop time or trains. But she had thought he was perfect. No, she still thought he was perfect.

She loved his dark brown hair, wavy and hair gel-less, and the way it curled at the nape of his neck. Perhaps it was because, when she had first met him, she was going through a phase of disliking blond males. It started seriously when she had watched two movie adaptations of Pride and Prejudice and realized that Jane was a blonde in both of them. And that detail had bothered her to no end. Certainly, she vaguely remembered in the book that Jane was "fair". So perhaps that meant she was blonde as well. Then she realized that the most popular and "hottest" girls at her high school had been blonde. And so came her conviction that she would not be attracted to blond guys because she was going to defy convention. She held no animosity for blonde girls, of course; she was not shallow. She just wanted to like someone who was not blond herself.

Perhaps, as she thought back in retrospect, she had been ridiculous with her notions of beauty. But she knew it was not the fact that Noah was not blond that attracted her to him. Had it been his hazel eyes that took her breath away? Maybe. It was all of him, though. Even the faults that had slowly edged out into the open, when they got to know each other a little better.

If only he weren't thousands of miles away by now.

He remembered her, the first time they met, as a painter inserted details with every deft stroke of color.

It was the first large party of the year, and he was sipping on a cup of beer, feeling the burning, bitter taste against his tongue and desperately refraining from wincing. He hated beer, but there was no way that he was going to let everyone else know.

His eyes scanned the room briefly, hoping to find a pretty girl to be his dance partner. The music wasn't bad—some hit pop song was currently playing—and he wanted to loosen up a bit, unwind after his first week of classes. Which had been, well, hell. He never expected to have that much homework, especially after his competitive high school years. Ah, well. If he wanted to succeed and move abroad, he needed to do well in his studies.

Suddenly he spotted her. His partner. She was standing a few feet away, nodding to a girl with blonde curls. She herself, though, had the opposite features of her friend. Midnight black hair curled naturally down to her shoulders, and her eyes were dark brown and almond-shaped. He smiled. He always had a thing for Asians and their rather exotic-looking features. This girl, though, was definitely not a slut. The skirt she wore was below her knees, and her T-shirt barely showed any cleavage. Still, there was something about her that he liked. Not because she was Asian, though; there were plenty of those girls around him. No, it was her aura—somewhat timid, hidden away from the world. Perhaps it was because she seemed more out of place than he did at the party that compelled him to ask her to dance. He pushed all thoughts away from his mind, though, as he saw the girl pull away from her friend and walk swiftly to the other side of the room.

He was at her side at an instant.

"Hi," he greeted, a grin spreading through his face. "Want to dance?"

Well, perhaps he could have been smoother. But it was a college party, not a marriage proposal.

The girl seemed shocked by his question. "Um, no thanks."

He raised an eyebrow. Okay. So she was playing hard-to-get. No problem. He'd manage to convince her. "Why not?"

She bit her lip and her eyes widened slightly. "I-I can't dance very well."

He shrugged. "We'll just sway along with the music. No need to pull any Michael Jackson moves." He wanted to chuckle at his own joke, but figured that the girl may have then perceived him as a tool.

She was shaking her head. "Sorry. I have to go." She nearly sprinted away from him and into the crowd.

Okay. He was very, very puzzled. Did she think him ugly? He snorted at the thought. He wasn't Brad Pitt, but he wasn't a hideous beast, either. Maybe she only wanted to dance with supermodel guys. But somehow he didn't think that was the reason for her stammering and sudden disappearance. He turned around and saw her friend watching him. He went straight toward the blonde.

"Who's your friend?" he demanded, not caring that his tone was rather hostile. "She totally just ditched me in the middle of a conversation."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "You were being a sleaze. At least, in her mind. That's why she ran away."

"A sleaze? I only asked her to dance!" He felt outraged. "I am not sleazy."

The blonde shrugged. "Well, Caroline's a bit…different, I guess. She doesn't do well when it comes to flirting and these kinds of parties. I practically had to drag her here tonight. But she's brilliant, my roommate, and pretty much my best friend. So don't mess with her." Her eyes met his, and he saw the steely hardness in those light blue eyes.

"Caroline? That's her name?"

"Yeah." The blonde eyed him suspiciously. "You're not going to stalk her, are you?"

He laughed. "No. But I do want to get to know her better. I'm Noah Baker, and I'd really love it if you'd help me get to her somehow."

"Riley McAdams." The blonde shook hands with him. "Why are you persistent, anyway? I thought college boys just gave in to the easy ones."

He chuckled, and leaned closer to her. "I'm not just any college boy."

A few minutes later, they exchanged numbers, and he had managed to persuade Riley to give him Caroline's number. He wasn't giving up without a fight.

He jumped at the sound of someone clearing his throat, and turned to his left to see his brother, Jordan, staring at him.

"What?" he asked, irritated. "Keep your hands on the wheel and look forward. I don't want to die before I get to the airport."

Jordan rolled his eyes. "Yes, boss. But seriously, you're zoning out. Are you having second thoughts on this?"

"Of course I'm not. I'm going to take the damn job and live in London. It's been my fucking dream since birth and nothing is holding me back."

"Okay, okay. Gee, PMS much? Seriously, though, Noah, there could be one thing that's holding you back."

He sighed, and rubbed his hands over his face, suddenly feeling weak and exhausted. "Not anymore. I don't have her anymore."

She was going to catch a cold. And then her parents would surely yell at her for being stupid. Who in the right mind purposely walked in the pouring rain?

It was all because of Noah, she thought bitterly. If he wasn't so damn persistent about gallivanting to the ends of the earth instead of staying in the country, then they could have been married by now. Or, at least engaged. Before he left for Europe, he asked her to come with him, to leave everything behind, and marry him. They would have a wonderful life together in London, and maybe even develop a British accent. One day, when he hit the jackpot, they would live in the castle and raise their kids there. Happily ever after, right?

She had said no.

She had a life in the United States. She was going to live in New York City, only two hours away from the small Pennsylvania town where her parents lived. She didn't understand why he couldn't take a job in New York as well. He was also in finance; there were plenty of job opportunities for him. But no, he did not want to be tied down. He wanted to see the world. She told him that he was being unrealistic and cliché. And then…

It ended. They ended.

Stupid Noah. She shook her head, feeling goose bumps rise up on the surface of her skin. It was cold. And time to go home. With a sigh, she pivoted, nearly slipping against the wet ground, and started toward her house. She could not stay outside any longer, and delay her future. She had to finish packing. She was leaving tomorrow, for her new apartment in the city. A new life. One that Noah did not belong to anymore.

She smiled a little, though, when she saw his face in her mind. His characteristic smirk, always plastered on whenever he wanted to annoy her to no end. His small smile, the one he reserved for her when he was, as he quoted, "utterly speechless" at the sight of her. He was always dramatic. She rolled her eyes at the thought, and the ache in her heart dulled slightly. But her mind soon brought her back to reality, and realization struck her. He really was gone. The utterly infuriating boy that frightened her half to death, yet made her feel exhilarating and alive. It was just like that Taylor Swift song that she liked, "Fearless". When he was with her, she did feel that. Fearless.

Not enough, though, to leave with him. No, she was too cowardly, at the end. She wanted the nice, easy, safe life. She did not have the courage to jump onto a whole different continent and tread potentially dangerous waters. And that was why they never worked out at the end.

The rain poured harder, and she was soaked. No one was there to dry her, to warm her up, to hold her.

"This weather sucks," commented Jordan with a grimace. "Torrential downpour of rain. Man, I hate rain. It makes me feel like crap."

"It's refreshing." He looked at his brother. "Go ahead, Jordan. I'll be fine."

Jordan nodded. "I know. It's hard to let you go, little bro. You've been a pain in the ass for the past twenty-four years of my life—but I love you." He blinked. "And don't get used to this, either. I'll still treat you like crap for the rest of our lives."

He laughed, and patted his brother on the shoulder. "Good-bye, Jordan."

Jordan sighed, adjusting his umbrella. "Look, Noah, I—I know you don't want to hear this, but I need to say it. One day, you should come back here, to the States, to our little hick town, and find her."

His face darkened. "She and I went on to different paths, Jordan."

"You spent nearly a month trying to get her to have coffee with you, dude. Why are you giving up so easily now?"

Caroline had been a tough nut to crack…

"So you hate men. Or me. Which is it?"

She glared at him, after looking up from her thick textbook. "What do you want?"

He raised his hands up in surrender. "Look, I'm not asking you to marry me, or commit murder with me. I just want to have coffee with you."

"But why? We hardly know each other."

"That's the point." He rolled his eyes. "Gosh, are you always so antagonistic?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Wow. You just used a big word."

"Shut up." He flushed, feeling his pride crumble as she mocked him. Okay, this girl could not cut him some slack. And why the hell was he being such a ninny anyway? This was college. He was supposed to hook up with tons of girls, and have fun. No responsibilities. No long-term relationships. Why on earth was he stuck on this one girl who wouldn't even give him a second glance? He wanted to shoot himself for being so whipped by someone whom he didn't even know. Jordan would be laughing his ass off at his pathetic behavior. Thankfully, his brother attending school on the other side of the country.

"Okay, look. I get it. You think I'm some sort of playboy. But I'm not. I was valedictorian at my high school, student council president, wrote a book—"

"Wait." She studied him, her brown orbs boring into his hazel ones, and he involuntarily gave a small shudder. This girl had the strangest effect on him… "You wrote a book? Really?"

"Yeah." He shuffled his feet, feeling the back of his neck grow warm. "It was a story of a soldier in the Vietnam War. My dad was a Vietnam veteran, so…I was kind of inspired by him. It isn't much, just self-published, although I have managed to sell a few hundred copies…"

"Seriously?" Caroline smiled, and he felt himself return the gesture. She looked beautiful. "Wow, that's amazing. Can I buy a copy from you?"

He stared at her. "You really want to?"

"Yeah. I love history, especially war stories. There's something about them that makes me feel connected to myself. Because they contain so many pure feelings, emotions that are just laid out, no embellishments, just there, you know? Oh, gosh, of course you know, you wrote a book on that." She flushed. "Sorry. I just get carried away."

"No, no, that was—" He struggled for the word. "That was really deep. You're probably a great writer."

Caroline shrugged. "I love writing, but I love reading more."

"I'll bet that you like those chick lit books like most girls." He grinned, intent on teasing her, but was surprised to find her face rather red.

"Well, you got me there," she admitted.

He couldn't believe it. The hard-to-get girl wasn't as different as her friend Riley said she was.

"So, Little Miss Perfect doesn't only like the classic literature, huh?" He grinned as he noticed her red cheeks. "Does that mean she can have coffee with a not-so-perfect guy like me?"

Caroline blinked and then nodded once, a small smile fighting to break through her features. "Sure."

He felt like he had just won the lottery.

"Maybe one day," he reflected, glancing over at Jordan. "For now, though, we're better off apart. We need to figure out…stuff…first."

Jordan nodded, exhaling and looking straight ahead, a thin film of water glistening on his eyelashes. "Life. It gets in the way all the time." He swiveled his head around so he was facing his brother. "Remember Jeanie?"

Jeanie. The pretty brunette had been Jordan's college sweetheart. They were engaged two years ago, about to have a spring wedding—until she disappeared three months before the big day. He remembered the stricken look on Jordan's face—his lips sealed in a thin line, his eyes staring straight ahead, ignoring the shaking sobs of Jeanie's mother, the defeat written upon the face of Jeanie's father. No one knew what happened to her. According to her parents, they had found her bed empty one morning, her Hello Kitty suitcase gone, and a few articles of clothing missing from her closet. What broke their hearts though, as well as Jordan's, was the gold band placed on desk, with a Post-It note next to it: I'm sorry.

She couldn't go through with it. She couldn't get married. A letter had arrived, one tearful month after Jeanie's departure. She had to get away from her dull life. She was marrying her college sweetheart, starting a typical nine-to-five office job, most likely popping out a few children in the next few years…and then what? Become a perfect 1950s housewife? She would always love Jordan…and perhaps she'd come back someday and marry him. For now, she was going to stay single in California and work for some Silicon Valley company.

He had known, by the look on Jordan's face while he was reading the letter, Jeanie was not coming back.

He shook his head, feeling weary. "I'm doing what Jeanie did, aren't I? Just taking off?"

"Noah, you aren't. Jeanie didn't want a life with me. Caroline does—just not in the same way you do."

He sighed. "But I am like Jeanie. We're both…we're both not coming back."

She stood in front of her house, but did not want to go inside yet. The rain reminded her of Noah. The way the droplets would just come down, suddenly, from the sky, sometimes with force—just like Noah had entered her life. And the way it was hugging her skin at that moment, unwilling to let go, a part of her…Noah was a part of her.

She remembered many dates in the rain. Whenever they were together when it rained, they would always dance amidst the falling drops of water. Her hair would be swirling around, dripping wet, while he would draw his fist into an imaginary microphone and belt out oldies tunes. Passersby most likely thought they were crazy; but they didn't care. Together, they had nothing to fear—not even fear itself.

What a goofball. But she loved even those quirks of his that he had thought she hated—the seductive waggling of his eyebrows, his casual swagger, and his inability to look upon himself as a normal human being, rather than a gifted one with unusual powers. No. She loved that he was a flirt, and had such an air of self-confidence with his voice, smooth and fluid as a gusty March breeze. She never hated him, no matter how much he was convinced that she had at the beginning of their meeting. But she didn't. She knew she was a goner the first time her eyes locked with his at that party. That was why she wanted to avoid him. That was why she had run away from him.

Was that why she was still running?

Jordan was gone, and he was waiting at the airport for his flight to be called. Although every inch of space in the building seemed to be filled with people, he hardly noticed the bustling and yelling. He couldn't believe he was leaving. And yet…it was what he always wanted. A ticket out of his town, out of the country. He had always thought Europe a deliciously romantic and mysterious part of the world. He wanted to go. He also wanted Caroline to share his dreams, but she never did. In that respect, they were too different. When it came to life, they had always been day and night. She, daylight, when everything was clear and seen. He was night, when surprises came along, the unexpected occurred.

Perhaps they were just never meant to be.

"What do you want to do after graduation?" They were juniors already—he figured he could ask.

"I don't know…get a place to live, a job? You know, the usual."

"But where?"

Caroline watched him, her forehead wrinkled and her eyebrows knitted closer together. "I don't know. I guess New York City. Or some other city. I guess that's where all the finance opportunities are, anyway."

"How do you feel about London?" His heart quickened, awaiting her response.

"London?" She blinked. "Um, well, it's a great city. I've been there before. But I'm not sure if I want to leave everything behind to get a job that far way."

"Carrie." He groaned, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit. "Where's your sense of adventure? Look beyond this boring old country, to elsewhere around the world! You live in some stupid boring town; I live in some stupid boring town. Why not go somewhere that isn't stupid or boring? Like Europe!"

Caroline was silent, tucking a strand of dark hair over her ears. She reached her hands out and clasped both of his. "Noah. I love you. So much. But…I don't know. Is it so wrong to want an ordinary life, to live the way most people do? I'm a simple person with simple needs. I know you want to leave, to have new experiences. And…well, I respect that."

"Carrie, I love you, too. You are right here." He touched the area right above his heart. "And…I respect your opinions as well. We'll make it all somehow work." He waved his hand around casually in the air. "I want us to always be together."

Her eyes widened. "Are you…proposing?"

He smiled, and shook his head. "No. Well, not officially. But Car—I do want us to get married someday. I know you're the one. I knew it from our very first date."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "You mean when the waiter spilled Sprite on my dress and you laughed for five straight minutes?"

He chuckled, and then placed a kiss on her lips. "Well, yeah. But seriously, you were just so nice about it. You didn't turn on ultra bitch mode and scream at the guy, like a lot of other girls would've done. Right then, I knew you were different, and I wanted to get to know you better."

"Noah, you are so cheesy."

"Well, I am, after all, named after that guy in The Notebook, the ridiculous cheese fest of a movie that you love so much."

"Shut up." She slapped his arm and laughed. "Noah?"

"Hmm?"

"I just—I really want us to be together forever. Even though you were a pain when I first met you."

"I thought you were cute and wanted to dance. What was so wrong about that?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it was that stupid smirk you had on your face, certain that I would say yes and fall under your charm?"

"You seriously thought all of that when I asked you?"

"Well—no. Did you really think I was cute?"

"Adorable." He tweaked her nose and she squeaked in protest. "Caroline, one day you and I are going to change the world."

"How?"

"I don't know…" He trailed off, his chin propped on his hands in thought. "We'll do something big, and we'll do it together."

Caroline smiled, and he placed his arms around her, feeling the warm prickles of her sweater against his fingers. She was his. He was hers. And they would put life on hold for as long as possible, if it meant that they would be with each other.

He jumped a little after hearing his flight number called. Sighing, he picked up his carry-on bag and walked over to the line of people waiting to get on the plane. He couldn't get her out of his mind. Her smooth black hair…expressive brown eyes…pale ivory skin…but most of all, he still had her feeling around him. A gentle, calming sensation, letting him know that everything would be all right. But how could he feel her, when she wasn't near him?

He placed his hand over his heart. No, he was sure she would always be with him, a part of him. With that thought in mind, he stepped onto the plank that led him to his plane.

She was approaching the front steps of her house, and, somehow, she felt lighter, despite the extra weight that the water had added to her clothes. Perhaps the walk in the rain did her some good. She knew she had to go inside, though, for she still had to finish some last-minute packing.

She had a whole life waiting for her, in exciting, bustling New York City. She was following her dream; Noah was following his. She didn't know if their paths would ever meet. But she would always hold him close.

Her hand curled around the doorknob and turned it. She went inside, already feeling the water push away from her body.

She left…he left…

Author's Note: Another one-shot! This story is very loosely based on Colbie Caillat's gorgeous and heartbreaking song, "Droplets", and the last line is one of the lines in the song. The summary is also sort of from the song. I'm not completely happy with the ending…but I got impatient with the story and wanted to end it. Anyway, I welcome reviews! Any comments or suggestions would be much appreciated. Oh, and no plagiarizing, please.