Under (JenLisa AU)

Under My Umbrella

LI S A

Friday morning arrived with a leaden sky. Thunder rumbled deep in the belly of the building, and flashes of lightning periodically washed out the hallway lights. Outside, the rain was a relentless, grey curtain.

I locked my door and adjusted my bag, ready for the commute. My thoughts drifted to the unit across from mine. It wasn't a matter of concern—it was logic. If she tried to walk to the station in this, she'd be useless by the time she reached campus.

The door opened, and Jennie stepped out. She was focused on her phone, her expression unreadable. I didn't wait for an invitation. I stepped into her path, caught her by the wrist, and redirected her toward the elevator.

Jennie didn't struggle. She stopped, looking down at my hand on her skin with a cold, detached curiosity before meeting my eyes.

"Is this necessary?" she asked, her voice low and perfectly steady.

I didn't let go until we were inside the elevator. I pressed the button for the garage, the silence between us stretched thin by the hum of the descent.

"From now on, I'm driving you," I said, looking at our reflections in the polished steel. "My mother expects it. Consider the matter settled."

Jennie didn't flinch. She adjusted the strap of her bag, her posture elegant and entirely unbothered. "You're the one who made it clear you didn't want me here. I find this sudden 'kindness' inconsistent."

"It isn't kindness," I countered. "It's efficiency. You can't do your job if you're sick, and you'll be drenching my floors if you walk."

"I am perfectly capable of managing my own commute," Jennie replied, her voice firm and final. She turned to face me, her gaze level. "I have my own methods for keeping an eye on you, and they don't involve being managed by you."

I stared at her, caught off guard by the sheer lack of hesitation in her voice. She stood there, spine straight and gaze unwavering, waiting for a surrender I wasn't ready to give.

I took a step closer, crowding her space until the sterile scent of the elevator was replaced by the faint, sharp note of her perfume. The doors stayed shut, trapping us in the hum of the descent.

I watched her eyes, looking for a flicker of the composure she wore like armor.

"The rules changed the moment you kissed me, Jennie," I continued, my gaze drifting to her mouth for a fraction of a second before locking back onto her eyes. "My mother might have given the order, but I'm the one enforcing it. If you think I'm going back to being the 'boss' who ignores you, or if you're asking for me to stop... you're looking for a miracle."

Jennie didn't flinch. She didn't move away. She simply tilted her chin up, meeting my intensity with a cold, terrifyingly calm resolve.

"Then we're at a stalemate," she whispered, her voice like silk over steel. "Because I don't get in cars with people who think a kiss is a contract of ownership."

The elevator chimed. Jennie didn't wait for a rebuttal. The moment the doors parted, she stepped out into the lobby, her stride even and purposeful. She didn't look back.

I stayed in the elevator for a beat longer than necessary, watching the space where she'd been. Fine. It wasn't my problem anymore. I had fulfilled the obligation; I had offered the ride. If she wanted to compromise her health to make a point, that was her choice, not my fault.

I made my way to the parking garage, the air heavy with the scent of damp concrete and ozone. Inside my car, the world felt momentarily silent, shielded from the roar of the storm. I turned the ignition, and the engine rumbled to life, the wipers immediately beginning their rhythmic thud against the glass.