Red Earth and Pouring Rain (girlxgirl) (teacherxstudent)

one

Like most love stories – and this, as unconventional and messy and fucked up as it may be, is a love story – it starts when they meet.

No matter which way January attempts to spin it, she fell in love.

And then the rest happened.

It's late August, it's close to midnight and it's raining. The last few weeks, it always seems to be raining. London is known for its great summer storms. 

January bites her lip as she keeps walking down the street, books firmly tucked underneath her arm. The wind makes her shiver and drops of rain keep sliding down her glasses. You're an idiot for not wearing your contacts today, she thinks. And those books are now ruined as well. 

Matthew had been persistent about driving her back home ("There are some crazy men out there at this time," he had said, to which she'd rolled her eyes, "I think here is no one out in this weather, Matt. I'll be fine."). She now wishes she wouldn't have been so stubborn. As she crosses a street, she realizes she's doesn't even know where she is. Fuck, she thinks. She contemplates going back to the library, but then decides against it, because a) she's pretty sure they're closed and b) walking back to the library doesn't actually solve the whole rain thing. 

January slides her phone out of the pocket of her coat and is about to swallow her pride and call her brother, when she suddenly hears a soft voice:

"Are you alright?"

January looks up puzzled and sees a beautiful woman with blonde hair and bright eyes staring at her.

"Are you alright?" the woman repeats, a little louder this time. Her accent is unmistakably from the South. Brighton, January thinks, or Portsmouth, even. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," January lies. All of a sudden a loud thunder makes January's body vibrate. A quiet gasp escapes from her mouth. "Okay, well, actually, I'm kind of not," she admits, "Because I'm kind of lost."

"Where do you live?"

"St Albert Road," January answers.

The woman's eyes grow large. "That's about a thirty minute walk from here. How in God's name did you wind up here?"

January laughs, desperately. "I honestly have no idea. I went to the library to get some books and then I just - well, I don't know what I did. Short version: the weather got really bad and now I'm here."

The woman nods. "I was wondering - not to sound like a complete creep, I promise - but do you need a place to shelter from the storm?" the woman says. "Because I live right there." She points to a small, rather high building across the street. "And I'm not sure you'll survive thirty more minutes in this weather."

A polite "no" is already on the tip of January's tongue when the woman smiles, "I made tea."

January rises her eyebrows. "Which kind?"

"Vanilla."

"In that case, lead the way," January laughs. She's about 78% certain this woman is no serial killer. And if she is, January muses, it would be an awesome way to die. Female serial killers are rare. It would certainly be a national news kind of situation.

I blame the rain for making bad decisions, she thinks.

She follows the woman into the building and is instantly hit with the aromas of fresh baked pies and dusty vanilla, mixed with the cold smell that comes with this kind of weather. "It smells nice in here," January mumbles. She sees the woman smiling.