(Book 1)I Have Chemistry With My Tutor

Chapter 13. Target Practice

        "I've been playing since before I could remember." Seamus laughed at the expression on my face.

        I sat down beside him, breathing a little bit heavy myself.  I had worked up a small sweat and I smiled, feeling relief wash over me from releasing all that built up anger in sports and in good company.  "What time is it?"

        Seamus squinted at the sky, a slight grey from clouds looming over.  "About half past five I would think."

        I opened my cell phone to double-check and sure enough he was right.  It was 5:35 pm.  "Wow, we've been playing for over an hour and a half.  Felt like ten minutes..."

        "Time flies when-"

        "-you're having fun." I finished with him, our voices in unison.

        He smiled with his eyes glittering in the sheer dim sunlight peeking from the clouds.  "It's after midnight in Portugal right now."

        I lifted my eyebrow in curiosity.  "Why Portugal?"

        "Huh..." Seamus took a few deep breaths with knitted brows.  "I dunno... I just started thinking of Portugal.  Strange."

        "Probably some great soccer tournament being held there." I joked.

        "No..." He answered quite seriously.  I waited for him to continue, curious to why he was thinking of Portugal.

        "Have you ever been there?" I asked.

        He gazed at the clouds and shook his head.  "Not as far as I know.  My mother and I traveled abroad when I was a toddler, so maybe we did visit Portugal and I don't remember.  She was a teacher for some medical schools in France.  I guess it was her way of trying to cure the cancer growing inside of her."

        Grrrrowl.

        Seamus' eyes lowered to stare at my stomach and I giggled softly.  "Time to take you out to dinner, Ms. Brighton."

        "I'd be delighted, Mr. Daugherty." I replied in a Sense and Sensibility tone.  That was when I noticed Seamus' voice was European.  Just like the first time I'd heard him speak at the library.  It was heavy with accent at that time, right now it was kind of subtle.  Had he been speaking British like the entire time I knew him and I hadn't noticed?  Peculiar.

        We both got up, ball still in his hand, and headed for the car.  "Should wash up first." I pointed out.

        "Indeed." He replied.

        Just then...

        Plip. Plop.  CRRSHHH.

        Thunder shook and rumbled the sky, shaking me to the bones and giving me excitement. Storms are my favourite weather, as if they lend me power and awaken every dormant sorrow in the cave of my mind.  A few drops of moisture hit my skin, my face, and I stopped heading towards the car, leaning my head back to feel the rain slowly pick up pace to fall.  The air was warm, the sky greying and the rain droplets a crisp cool.  A perfect mingling of sensations.

        Without thinking, I slipped my tennis shoes and socks off and threw them aside, swirling in the rain. My frilly knee-high purple skirt spun with me, creating a huge circle as I twisted and turned, feeling the rain start to pour and soak my clothes and hair in mere seconds.  I cooled off extremely fast, the hot sweaty work-out from playing soccer fading as the rain washed my sorrows away.  The lava of my anger became obsidian and I inhaled the scent of the rain deeply while I spun in delirious circles.  I tasted the water on my tongue as I opened my mouth. I sucked the water on my lips and sighed.  Within a minute I crashed to the grass and sat while the downpour completely drenched me through, my dizzy vision making my body sway for a few seconds.