If happiness were sunbeams

It rained just as we were about to cross the street a block away from the bus station. He grabbed my hand and urged "quick!" as he pulled me towards the curb, his other hand on his head.
As if it could keep him dry.
We ran to the bus station, big droplets of water falling on us. I laughed. I love fresh rain. It's warm, and i love watching the first few droplets sizzle on the hot tarmac. Plus, he was holding my hand. That alone made me giddy.
We got to the bus station a little soggy, but not soaked. He grinned at me and touched a dropped of water on my cheek. I searched for tissue paper in my knapsack, but didnt find any. He pulled up the edge of his t-shirt and wiped his face with it. I took a peek at his navel. He held out another edge of his t-shirt and offered it to me. I grinned, bent down and wiped my face, breathing in the smell of his skin. Gosh he smelled sweet. Sweet smell of sweat, I thought to myself.
We stood there by the pillar where the old man with the cardboard box was selling peanuts, nyam-nyams and hacks, waiting for my bus. A lot of people were waiting there with us, but it felt like we were the only ones there.
He finally managed to inch his way to the pillar and leaned his back against it. I pretended that the people in front of me were forcing me to lean against him.
His chest felt warm against my back. His right thigh felt warm against the back of my left thigh.
The smell of dust, rotting corn husks, burnt grease and exhaust fumes didnt seem to bother us a bit.
"Number 33, that's mine" I told him as I saw a bus pull up.
"Let's wait for the next one" he said, gently running his thumb over the back of my hand, the one he didn't let go.
If my happiness were sunbeams, everyone there would've gotten burnt.