Writer's note: To see the particular tree that helped inspire this story, please see my profile. And enjoy...
*****
It was such a typical rainy Sunday afternoon there should be a country song about it.
They sat on the couch in silence. He sat near the middle, reading a book. She sat on the end - clearly working, with a set of notebooks littering the coffee table and scribbling in another notebook in her hand - with her back against the armrest and her legs draped over his. After a few moments she made a frustrated sound, tossed the notebook aside, and covered her face with one arm.
"Stop and take a break. You're just tired." He barely looked up from his book, but he did run his hand along her foot and up one calf, before he slid his hand back down and tickled the bottom of her foot. She jumped like she'd been bitten by a snake, pulled her legs back and cringed into the corner of the couch. He chuckled in response, and she punched his arm.
"Prick!"
He chuckled again, "Move around. Get the blood flowing. You've been sitting in the same position for an hour and a half."
She made a specific point to stand, walk over to the arm chair, and sit on the arm of it. He smiled at his book. "So have you."
"Yes, but I'm not trying to create something, I'm trying to absorb something. It's a totally different function of the brain. Now stop arguing with me and clear your head."
She leaned back a little on the arm, feigning lounging, earning his book another smile. Then she genuinely looked around for something to do. After a few seconds, there was a rumble from the storm outside. A mischievous look briefly passed her face and then she sat up and looked at him.
"I think I know what I want to do." As she said this, she very slowly, and very deliberately, slid each slipper from its (now) unadorned foot. He didn't look up, but his eyes were clearly not in the book anymore. Then, again one at a time, she hooked each slipper with her big toe, and tossed them into his lap.
She stood up now, walking slowly around the coffee table, in the direction of the hallway. Now he did look up, watching her move, examining closely as she slid the sweater off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor in a soft, warm pool of yarn. His smile broadened. He set her slippers on the couch and stood up, slowly following her path.
"What did you have in mind?" His voice was course, a catch in his throat that she could also see in his eyes. He undid his cuff and shirt buttons as he moved. When he was standing beside her sweater, he pulled his shirt off and dropped it very carefully on top.
"Well." She drew the word out a bit, just long enough to allow her to take a wrong turn at the back of the couch. He looked at her, suddenly confused, as she backed away towards the kitchen instead of continuing toward the hallway, ostensibly leading to the bedroom. He watched her now, but stayed put, as she stood between the couch and the back door, facing him.
"I wanna play." Without unbuttoning it, she pulled the dress shirt she'd borrowed from his hamper, over her head and tossed it to him. He smiled, and smelled the shirt before tossing into the pile they'd already started.
"Play?" He moved now, cautiously exploring her boundaries, to stand a few feet in front of her.
"Yes, I want to play." She stood so prim and proper, her hands tucked behind her back, that he looked even more confused than when she'd turned left instead of right.
He stood with his hands on his hips, now in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of old cargo shorts, clearly waiting for her to make her move. "And what is it you want to play?"
Her smile spread slowly, and he got very leery, something ominous in her eyes.
"Tag. And you're it."
Without warning she shoved him gently back a step, and then turned; she flung open the back door, and ran out into the rain in nothing but her tank top and the long cotton skirt she favored for lounging around the house. She didn't even pause to see if he was following her, and in his shock, he didn't move until she was off the deck stairs and a quarter of the way across the back yard.
A smile quickly spread across his face, "Little shit." He yanked his t-shirt off, tossed it carelessly behind himself. "At least it's lightening up," he laughed and ran out after her.
When he went through the back door, and several fat drops fell off the roof onto his back, he almost wished he'd left the t-shirt on. He hissed, but didn't break his stride, as the rain suddenly got a lot harder. By the time she was reaching the edge of the backyard, and approaching the small grove of trees that lined it, he was only a few feet behind her, and the sky was dumping buckets on them.
Even when he knew she could hear him approach, she still didn't look back, prompting a taunt, "Chicken shit."
She took off into the trees, but as soon as she reached the little secluded patch of grass a few feet in, she spun on her heel and smiled at him. "What was that?" The rain was a little lighter in here, but because it was a clearing the moisture was still thick, making her blink a lot to keep her eyes clear. She moved her body carefully but nimbly, giving the impression she was ready to dodge in any direction she needed to, without hesitation.
But in reality, she did hesitate, because she expected him to stop and taunt her further at the edge of the clearing. He didn't.
He stalked toward her, his eyes intense and determined. He nearly ran into her, but caught her body against him. With a firm grip on her, he took a few more steps forward until her body was trapped between his and a strong oak tree. His lips hit her like a freight train, taking possession instantly. Her hands were wrapped around him for support, but soon the heat of his skin combined with cool of the water sluicing over them, had her hands roaming every inch she could reach.
His hands were holding the sides of her face now, taking her lips wherever he wanted them to go. They were locked to one another, already soaked to the bone and oblivious, when the lightning strike hit somewhere a few blocks away. They both jumped, she nearly screamed. She buried her face in his shoulder and he held her tight.
"Damn it." He growled, kissing the top of her head. She laughed, softly at first, and then harder as the laughter continued for almost half a minute. He looked down at her with a smile, as she finally faded off into a chuckle. "It's not that funny."