Page 26 of Spiral
I throw the ball, interrupting her sassy remark. She stops, watching the ball twist in a perfect spiral through the pounding rain. Her neck cranes, following its path as the football whizzes past her – a good ten feet above her head.
“Henry!” she exclaims, picking up her feet to clumsily run towards the sailing ball.
I love when she says my name.
The football slams against the sloshy turf with a soft thud, 60 yards away.
“Gah!” she cries, stumbling towards it as the rain showers over us.
“I’m coming to get you, Campbell!” I shout, breaking into a laughably slow jog.
“No, wait – ah!” She squeals loudly as she grabs the ball, giggling and then cursing as she notices me moving closer to her.
“Better run, Georgia!” I say, jogging at about 25% of my normal speed, an arm outstretched in her direction.
She takes off, running back towards our starting point, her moist curls bouncing behind her.
“You can’t get me, Anderson!” she calls back to me, laughing maniacally.
“You’re gonna regret that!”
I pick up speed, slowly at first, until I’m running full-out in her direction.
She squeals again, but doesn’t attempt to move, instead choosing to watch me close the gap between us. I slow down as I approach her, my breathing heavy and heart pounding. She looks up at me, green eyes twinkling in a way I’ve never seen before. Her lips are plump and flushed, along with her cheeks. With chestnut curls plastered to her tanned skin by the rain, I can’t help but wonder if this is how she’d look fresh out of the shower in the morning, ready to crawl back into bed with me and let me hold her until nightfall.
I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.
I raise my right hand and notice, a moment too late, that it’s trembling. She looks towards it and, for a brief moment, a flash of recognition dances across her eyes, but she says nothing. I reach out, hesitantly, half-expecting her to scream and run in the other direction at the idea of my touch. The rain pours down over our heads, catching in our eyelashes and across the edge of her round lips. We stand so close, I can practically feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes deeply and slowly.
I wonder if she can hear my heart beating through my clothing.
She is so much smaller than me, I practically overtake her entire body just standing near her, and yet she doesn’t move, her entire figure engulfed in my shadow. She has not broken our eye contact and I watch as she studies my face closely, her gaze moving from my dripping hair down to my lips.
I take a deep, quiet breath and lift my trembling hand ever so slightly, touching it so quickly and so softly to her shoulder that I doubt she would have felt it if she hadn't been watching me.
“Tag,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper as a knot forms towards the back of my throat.
Without hesitation, she throws the ball away from me – making it just to the 10-yard line. I laugh, turning my body to chase after it. I make it nearly 5 yards when I feel a weight on my back, pulling me downwards towards the turf.
“You’re the one that’s tagged!” she says, giggling energetically as she latches onto my shoulders.
“Are you trying to tackle me right now?!” I ask her, incredulously.
“I am tackling you right now!” Georgia replies, her voice strong and determined.
I laugh and allow her small frame to drag me down to the turf, collapsing us both as the rain engulfs our bodies.
We lay there quietly for a moment, our backs against the moistened grass, staring up at the rain. From the edge of my vision, I see her adjust her weight onto one elbow and turn herself to face me. She focuses on me, her eyes darting between my face and chest. Biting her lower lip, the edge of her plush mouth slowly turns a dark, rosy hue.
She leans herself towards me, so slowly it's almost imperceptible – but I feel it. I feel the warmth of her skin radiating towards my own; I smell the sweet scent of her vanilla perfume, still present even in the rain. Moments pass and I notice, as she leans closer, that our breathing has synced perfectly to one another. Short, hard, labored breaths emerge from each of us, our lips parted and faces flushed. I feel my pulse quickening as I watch her lean in further, her eyes glowing with curiosity and tenderness. She’s only inches away, so close I can make out the individual raindrops resting among her eyelashes, when she stops.
“I-I have to go,” she stammers, turning her face and her gaze sharply away from my own.
I clear my throat, sitting up quickly. The rain, which moments ago felt intimate and safe as it shielded us from the world, now feels cold and overwhelming.
“Me, too,” I reply confidently, feigning a charming smile in her direction.
She gathers her things quickly, attempting to guard herself from the rain with a hand above her head.