Page 72 of The Games We Play

Suddenly, a flash of lightning pierces the sky, and heavy raindrops begin pelting on everything. What feels like buckets of water come barreling down, it’s instant and overwhelming.

“Oh my God!” I scream as we both urgently sit up at the same time, ducking our chins into our chest to avoid the flash flood from careening down on our faces.

“It wasn’t supposed to rain tonight!” Seamus says loudly over the water that’s beating against all the trees around us.

The slapping of the droplets overlap each other as the raingets heavier and heavier. It only takes seconds and we’re completely drenched. Seamus pushes himself out of the back of the truck bed, his feet slapping down onto the already muddied ground before one foot slips from underneath him.

He uses one hand as a base on the back of the tailgate to balance himself and holds the other out to help me down.

A beat of thunder rolls through the air, slipping itself in between the pelting of the rain before another flash of lightning cuts through the sky.

“This is the Pacific Northwest. You should always anticipate rain.” I have to yell over the sound of the rhythmic downpour and crackling thunder.

Sliding my hand into his, he pulls me down to a standing position at the back of his truck. It’s a stark contrast how soft his touch is, how gentle he is, considering the mayhem of our current situation.

“This isn’t rain, this is a goddamn monsoon.” He steps around the back of the truck, still holding my hand, but as I go to follow, I lose my footing and begin to slip forward. He grips my hand to prevent my fall, but it’s completely useless. It’s like gravity is forcing me down. Instead of letting me go, he attempts to pull me forward, his own feet slipping from underneath him, and I fall face forward as he lands straight on his ass.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He’s holding his hands out to his sides, looking at the muddy damage decorating his body, and I can’t help but laugh.

It starts as a small giggle, then ascends into a full body, rolling onto my back, holding my stomach jerking as I laugh. Nothing about it is attractive, but neither is our current situation.

“Is this funny, sunshine?” His tone is deep and serious, yet as his eyes peer over to me, there is a touch of playfulness that I remember in my old Seamus.

But I know that modern day Seamus is dying inside. The heavy rain makes his face shine in the moonlight, the speckledwith mud particles dress his cheeks and forehead while his hair is completely drenched and plastered to his head.

He sits up, swinging one mud-caked leg over my body, straddling me completely. His knees dig into the ground as he leans over the top of me, protecting me from the rain.

“You better stop laughing,” he says with a tinge of a smile behind his serious tone.

Of course, I don’t stop laughing.

So he leans further down, slamming his lips into mine. I greedily accept his kiss as my laughter instantly turns into a needy moan.

31

SEAMUS

What the hell good are weather apps and meteorologists if they can’t manage to actually get the weather predictions correct? Seriously, they have one job.

I can’t say I mind too much, considering it’s landed me straddling Mimi with our tongues dancing together, drenched in the rain.

Something shifted tonight.

I don’t know if it started with the Tantric massage, and if that really is some magical gateway to an open connection that we both needed, or if we’re both just getting back to our roots of where we began together. But tonight, I feel it. We both do.

My tongue continues to explore her mouth and lips, and I can’t get enough. I want more, but here in the woods, in the middle of an unplanned monsoon, is probably not the place to do it.

We’re drenched, plastered with mud, and I couldn’t be happier that I have a couple of dry blankets in the back of my truck for us.

“Come on.” Pushing myself up, I take her hand as we both stand and trek through the mud to the passenger door of mytruck. I grab the blanket from the back, quickly caping it around her, wrapping her like a burrito, then helping her into the front seat.

I run around the back, my feet slipping a bit in the mud as I close the tailgate, grab the extra dry blanket, and jump in the driver’s side.

Starting the truck, I make our way back to our houses and she scooches over closer to my side, leaning her head on my shoulder.

I love her like this. It’s like the old Mimi who was always so wild and free, who always wore her heart on her sleeve and a smile on her face. I feel my old self coming back, too. The one who had moments of happiness when my mother was around, because she made me feel like I meant something to someone.

Even with that, I can sense she’s holding something back. I can only assume she’s still reluctant to trust me due to our history of having ten years of feeling abandoned without any explanation. But I’m fine with spending a lifetime earning it back.

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