This Little Game We Like To Play

I sit on the front porch and pray for rain. I fan myself while rocking in the wooden rocking chair mom has on the porch. The fan above me doesn’t do anything to help with the heat. The sky is a dark shade or gray, it’s taunting the me and everyone else who lives here. We need this rain.

The whole neighborhood is eerily quiet. It usually is at this time. Most families are settling down for the night. Not mine. Mom and dad are gone to some sort of event at my dad’s job. Anna and Molly are at the movies. I seem to be the only calm one in my family these days. I think my time lounging around in rehab made me more relaxed.

I wave to my neighbor as he carries his sleeping daughter Julia inside his house. I love this place. I fan myself using my hand. It’s dark but it’s still very hot. I listen to the rumble of thunder. Maybe the sky wasn’t fooling me this time. Maybe it was finally going to rain. I listen again as the sound of tiny rain drops hit the pavement. I wait for the rain to stop up it only rains to the point you can call a shower. Over joyed I jump off the porch and into the street. I close my eyes and left the cold rain hit my face.

Behind me I hear the rain pouring down from the sky and moving toward me. I get soaked almost instantly and begin to spin in the center of the street. The rain making me spring to life and laugh as I hold my arms out and let myself be drenched in rain water. The loud pounding is heard behind me once again. How could it possibly rain any harder. The drops are already leaving red marks on my arms. My wet hair stick to my face when I turn my head. Instead of seeing heavier rain I see the figure of a person running. I blink in hopes of seeing who the person running is.

I stop breathing when the figure finally slows down and stands only feet away from me. I feel my heartbeat accelerate. I always thought that happened because I was nervous about what he’d call me. I could not care less about what name he had to call me and my heart was beating faster than I thought possible. “What are you doing here?” I call through the rain as he walks to me slowly letting a backpack slip of his back and onto the wet pavement.

“Trying to make you fall in love with me.” he breathes, his chest moving up and down rapidly in order to catch his breath. The rain soaked through his shirt and it clings to his thin figure and his blonde hair sticks to his face. I open my mouth to speak and realize I don’t know what to say to him. I can feel like butterflies are jazzersizing in my stomach.

Angel’s hands push my hair out off my face and he looks down at me as rain beats down on us. His breathing is ragged still and his hands don’t move from my face.

“It’s working.” I whisper. I don’t know if he heard me until he tilts my head to the side and leans down and catches my lips with his. Angel’s lips move hurriedly against mine as if I might I push him away at any second. Instead I tangle my fingers in his wet hair and pull myself closer to him.

“I love you.” Angel says loudly over the constant sound of raining pelting against us.

“I love you too.” I say without hesitation.

Angel Rivera is the boy’s name. It’s a fitting name, really. The boy proved to be a true angel when he drove across the country just to tell me he loved me, knowing that I might reject him. I don’t know how long Angel and I stood in the rain that night but we were inseparable after it. Sometime it takes a life changing event to realize just how much someone means to you. In our case, forcing each other into rehab made us come to a conclusion. We are meant for each other.