Raining Luck.

The cool rain hit the hot asphalt like blue marbles, exerting a misty fog from the different temperatures colliding. I sat inside my screened in porch, cuddled in an old quilt on the wicker couch, drinking a nice warm cup of tea while watching the summer thunderstorm cloud the sky. The sound of pattering taps of rain upon the tin roof of my house was slowly lulling me to a comfortable state of mind.

                Deserted, my neighborhood, once teaming with laughing children and smiling parents just minutes before, was silent and still, vacant tricycles in driveways and chalk pictures running in thin, colorful streams to the road drains. My parents weren’t home yet, seeing as they had left around four to head downtown to visit an open art gallery and wine tasting one of their friends were hosting. I didn’t mind, in fact, I liked feeling independent and holding the house down on my own.

                Setting the empty cup down on the table in front of me, I slipped off my slippers and shed the blanket. Walking to the swinging door, I pushed it open and took the two steps in one movement until I stood underneath the pelting rain on my sidewalk. Nobody was out and by the looks of it; all curtains were closed, in hopes of making the storm roll back from where it came from. So I stripped of my sweater leaving me in my running shorts and tank top.

                The cold rain felt nice against my warm skin as it seeped in my pores, effectively exhilarating me. I spun, my curly hair flying and catching water through the air and finally sticking to my shoulder and face and all the way down to the middle of my back. Taking off, I ran for my backyard, my bare toes digging into the sodden earth beneath as I raced through the rain.

*

                I wasn’t deliberately watching her. I had just happened to catch glance of her running in skimpy clothing in the rain while I was putting my clean clothes away. My family and I had just moved in a few weeks ago and I had already noticed my next door neighbor was not only beautiful, but she had a thing for storms.  She twirled, wet hair flinging around her head, toes digging up fresh dirt as they dug into the ground.  She danced like it was a routine she had known for years beneath the rain and I felt my heart flutter.

                The past few storms, I wanted to go out and talk to her. We already had that in common, but every circumstance I had thought of always failed even in my day dreams. But as I raised my window, the sound of rain and her singing caught my senses. I had to talk to her today. Looking around my room, gazing over my cat stretched out on my bed, I smile evilly and pick it up.

                As gently as I could I shoved Smittens, I didn’t name the thing, out the window and into the rain. Excessive meowing sounded, loud and low guttural, ugly sounds coming from the frantic cat. The girl snapped her head around one more time and stopped dancing. Bending out the window, I try and reach for the kitty, faking to be out of reach.

                Within seconds, Smittens was in the arms of the girl, standing before me, both drenched. I couldn’t help my eyes do a little once over of her exposed skin before settling on her eyes. Piercing green irises starred back, her mouth slightly agape, blond hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks.

“Thank you.” I say, my arms reaching to the wriggling kitty in her arms. She hands him over quickly, a smile breaking out on her face as she does so. Plopping him down in my room, he scampers off underneath my bed. I turn back to the girl.

“My name is Alyssa.” She holds out a hand through my window as her chest heaves from her heavy breathing.  I grasp the cold and clammy hand in my own broad and warm one. With a genuine smile, I offer my ironic name to the situation.