For phys-ed, we were golfing. Outside.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." My hands went to my hips as everyone filed out the gym doors.

"The sun's out," Reese encouraged as we fell in step.

"That doesn't mean there aren't any more storms in the area." I bit my lower lip, anxiety stirring as I recalled the storms that raced through soon after I arrived this morning. I'd run into the administration building and ducked into a restroom. Luckily, it had no windows.

The sun was indeed now shining as we walked uphill, shoes squeaking on wet grass as we passed the building that housed a hockey arena, heading for where a temporary driving range was set up. Two red-and-white striped canopies had been erected over the golf equipment. The canopy on the left was for the ladies. The guys separated and went to the canopy on the right. We would be hitting balls uphill, over distance markers.

The student parking lot was also in the vicinity, an artificially flat, blacktopped area that had been dug out of the main hill's gradual incline. Being in a large valley made it seem as though I were standing in the middle of some gigantic earthen bowl, trees rising above trees, rising above even more trees to obstruct my view of the horizon.

I was struggling with how trapped it made me feel as I searched the sky for which direction the clouds were moving. Were those dark clouds to the south moving away or toward us? This certainly wasn't like out west, where the land was flat and you could see an approaching storm from miles away.

Word was going around that a large branch had split from a tree during this morning's storm. A few concerned students were heading for the parking lot to check on their cars, and I guess why not? The phys-ed teacher didn't seem all that eager to start class, if his constant yammering on his phone was any indication.

Not that I was in any hurry, mind you. Somehow holding a metal rod with dark clouds in the vicinity lacked appeal.

I stood at the top of the parking lot hill while Reese went to check on her car, a blue Chevy. Apparently it was fine, as she didn't even go halfway down the steps before she turned back around, and then I spotted the fallen branch. It was more like a large stick.

"Everything good?" I asked when she returned, skipping to my side and we started back for the impromptu driving range.

"Yep." Reese grinned. "It narrowly missed the passenger side mirror by fifty-two feet."

"Wow, close call." I returned her smile despite my nerves.

Everyone was finally gathering to hit golf balls. I almost stumbled when I looked left and amethyst eyes met mine. Seeming like some average guy dressed in proper school attire—pressed shirt and pants, thin tie— with the sun shining on his shoulders, Micah was among the guys getting ready to tee off. So was the boy with the dark hair and incredible blue eyes from the hallway. He kept staring at me for some reason, his apparent interest making me fidget. I hadn't seen from which direction Micah appeared, only that he was suddenly present, stepping in front of me and cutting off my view of the other guy.

He was here; he had kept his promise.

Shifting my attention from him, Micah must have noticed I was gazing off into the dark part of the sky. When our eyes met again, he gave me a somber nod that mystified me before he turned to pick out a driver.

I jumped, startled when Reese touched my arm in concern. I was the only one on our side who was still empty handed.

"Um Aurora, Mr. Zinninski gives out zeroes for non- participation."

"I want to participate. It's just that...holding a metal rod on a hillside...with those clouds over there..."

"Well, if you are worried about touching the metal part of the golf club, you should have said so." Reese was rummaging through her backpack when I turned. My eyebrows rose when she pulled out something white, round, and flat.

"What's that?"

"A jar opener."

"Why do you have a jar opener, er, many jar openers with you?" I corrected as she pulled out three more. Red, blue and green.

"I always carry them. All small people do," Reese said in all seriousness. "It's the only way we can get into jars." She held them fanned out like a deck of cards. "They're made of rubber. You can wrap it on the golf club to extend its rubber handle so you don't accidentally touch the metal shaft. Which color do you want?"

"Ah, the blue one, I guess," I said, taking it from her and thinking that I definitely didn't want the green.

"Great, I'll take the red!" She put the remaining jar openers away and wrapped the one she chose around her driver. I proceeded to do the same. "We're starting a new trend." Reese laughed as we went over to where everyone was teeing off.

"I guess." I gave her a smile as her hand came up to clasp my elbow, encouraging me to step forward and swing as the sweet smell of her emotional signature kept my nervous stomach from hurting.

"Go ahead, Roara! Give it all you got."

She's nicknaming me Roara? Smiling at her encouragement, I brought the club back and swung it hard, amazed when I connected with the ball. It went sailing over the girl's farthest distance marker. It even went past the guy's marker, continuing uphill until it dropped down just short of the woods.

"Whoa," said the girl who was next in line.

"Double whoa," someone else echoed.

"Six," Reese yelled out when the ball bounced into the trees.

"Don't you mean fore?" the first girl asked.

Reese gave her a grin. "Nah, fore is yelled for an average shot.

That deserves at least a six."

"Well, I'm not impressed," a voice commented from behind us.

Eyes widening, I stepped in front of Reese and kept her close as I steered us away.

If the girl striding past wasn't six feet, she was pretty darn close. Yet it wasn't this newcomer's excessive height that was making the golf club she held seem like a weapon. No, it was the way she gripped it, with the end raised so the driver was like an actual club.

Her hair was so long it rivaled my own, falling waist length, the color of sunlight bouncing off chestnut shells. However something wasn't right about the way it was haphazardly cut so it fell jagged about her striking, almost elfin face, her eyes the color of Caribbean waters on a peaceful day. Although in truth, there was nothing peaceful about her eyes.

Skipping ahead of the next girl in line, she took a stance to tee off, and then lifted her head to turn those eyes back our way. She looked directly at me, staring long and hard, as if trying to decipher the type of person I was, and then she scowled and returned her attention to the ball.

I took Reese a little farther away where we could speak out of earshot. "What's her deal?" I threw a quick glance at the tall girl.

"I dunno." Reese shrugged. "I don't pay much attention to Bettihemae. Tall people give me a neck ache."

"Betti-who?"

"Betty-He-May," Reese pronounced slowly.

"Oh." Odd name. Why not simply shorten it to Betty? We both turned to watch as she finally brought the club back and swung. Everyone around us made "ooh" and "aah" sounds as Bettihemae's ball arched high to clear the trees, flying farther than mine.

"That look she just gave me...?"

"I wouldn't worry about it. From what I've heard, she weirds a lot of people out."

"You girls play golf?" The phys-ed teacher came up behind us, phone still to his ear. A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.

"Nope," I said bluntly, then chucked the club to the ground.

"My daddy owns a golf resort." I heard Bettihemae say as I snatched up the blue jar opener from the ground and followed Reese when she grabbed my hand and hurried us away.

"Why are we heading for the football field?" I asked. The first of many large raindrops hit the ground as Reese explained there was much better shelter between the bleachers. Quite a few other students were running now, heading for the parking lot.

"Yes, hurry to avoid the falling water. As if the mere touch of it will cause us to melt."

My head snapped around to see Bettihemae easily pacing up behind us on her long, long legs. She gave me a grin that was half sneer, all teeth.

"What is it that girls who are not like us are supposed to be worried about?" She directed the question to me. "Oh yes, our hair," she finally decided. "Can't stand to get our hair wet. Boys don't like their car interiors getting damp. I left the windows down. Won't my cousin be super miffed?"

"I don't think she's very concerned about her cousin's car," Reese noted as, with melodious laughter, the tall girl ran ahead.

I stared, watching chestnut hair whipping behind her and wondered what she meant by "girls who are not like us." And what was up with her sing-songy accent?

Thankfully, there was no more thunder after the first rumble that ushered in the rain. We stood in an alcove between the bleachers. It provided a good view of the parking lot for us to watch as people shut themselves in cars to get out of the downpour. The rain beating on the tin roof overhead was deafening. Water ran off in thin, steady streams.

I leaned forward, stretching for the streams, coming very close without putting my face into them. They grew wider and thicker the faster it poured. I didn't mind the rain.

I took in a deep breath, parting lips to allow the dampness into my mouth. If I'd been at home I might have taken off my shoes, indulged in the impulse to go running across the soaked lawn to induce the squish of grass between my toes without concern for wet clothing. Actually, that was the best part of running in the rain, to see how much rainwater one's clothes could collect before it all soaked into the ground—or, at least, that's what I thought when I was little. Back then, I always went running in the rain.

The number of streams coming off the roof increased as the rain came down harder. His clothes are wet, sticking opaque to his skin—somehow, I knew this even before my eyes focused beyond the running water, before he crested the hillside.

Ascending the concrete steps, the guy with the incredible blue eyes came up from the parking lot. I judged him to be around five foot ten as I leaned out too far and one of those thin streams running off the roof hit me in the shoulder. Pausing a few steps down, he looked my way, as if he could sense me through the downpour. His incredible gaze locked onto mine, and the world narrowed down to just the cool sensation of rainwater running wetly down my front and the rain in between us that both separated and connected us.

Now at the top of the stairs, he began walking toward me. His was a sinuous gait. The smoothness of his movements almost tangible. I shivered as if I was already touching him, as if I could feel the movement as a sliding of wet clothing over sleek skin. The fluidity of a long-bodied dragon—I wasn't certain where I pulled the dragon from, but somehow it seemed appropriate.

I shivered again, and he increased his pace. He was coming for me, faster, as if he was aware I could sense him coming, and he knew what it was doing to me.

As his progress quickened I leaned my head to one side and water dribbled onto my cheek; his pace faltered, and he almost tripped. Thunder rumbled, and Micah appeared, standing between us.

I jerked back from the soaking runoff. Good golly. What was that just now? Blinking, I shook myself, willing the strangeness of the last few moments to go away. I had taken note of the blue-eyed guy earlier, but not like this. Not to this extreme. Although during those other times, he hadn't been standing in the middle of a downpour. I shook myself again. Guess it gave new meaning to the phrase "Just add water."

Micah was heading toward us now, but not before he paused to give the other guy a hard glare. Did the two know each other?

He was almost to our shelter when the phys-ed teacher appeared from around the bleachers. Phone now tucked out of sight, Mr. Zinninski asked Micah to give him and a couple of the other boys a hand gathering the golf equipment and packing away the tents. With a start, I realized the rain had stopped.

Micah didn't seem happy about being asked to help. He trailed after Mr. Zinninski anyway, but not before making sure that the boy who had moved through the rain like a dragon had altered from his previous route.

Why would standing in the middle of a downpour make me home in on him with that much awareness? But then again, why wouldn't it? My hand went to my wet front. Why wouldn't I pay attention when the way water ran over him was mesmerizing?

"You've got agape face."

"What?"

"Your mouth. It's hanging open."

Oh yeah. Reese was still with me. Now that the rain was no longer pounding on the tin roof, we could talk. I touched my face and closed my mouth.

"I see your guy radar has pinpointed Alexander BruLagoon," Reese observed.

"Alexander BruLagoon?" No fooling? I moistened my lips with a reflexive slip of tongue. So this was the son of our landlord/wildlife preservation guru my aunt wanted me to meet?

"Yep, I don't know much about him, other than he and his cousin just moved here from Canada."

"Which part of Canada?"

"I dunno. The habitable part."

Yes, because America's top hat was well known for being a desolate wasteland. I stifled a laugh, feeling more like myself. "Who is his cousin?"

As if on cue, her chestnut hair flashed into sight, much darker now with rainwater. Bettihemae came bounding up the hillside behind Alexander, her sing-songy accent chanting his name over and over. Oh, no way!

My mouth dropped open again. "Bettihemae is his cousin?" I frowned, remembering she had lied. Her father didn't own a golf resort.

"You have to be careful of the moose."

"You mean, Bettihemae?"

"No." Reese shook her head. "I mean the moose in Canada. I hear you have to be careful of them. My uncle told me they will chase you down and eat the tires right off your car."

"Reese, don't...believe anything else your uncle tells you."

"Okay." She grinned and reached for my hand.

We had time to eat lunch together before our next class. Afterward, Reese would separate to go to English, then chorus, then world cultures, while I only had trig and I could go home. Ah, the grand benefit of not carrying a full class load.

Alexander gave me one last glance with those captivating eyes of his as he and his cousin disappeared over the hill toward campus. I shivered with the realization that letting him touch me would be as easy as stepping out into the rain. I wasn't so sure this was a good thing.

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VOTE if you love walking, running, DANCING in the rain!  Umbrella optional ;)