Page 1 of Spring Break with a Slap Shot

Chapter 1-Harmony

My cursor hovers over the array of weather models spread across my dual monitors, but I can't focus. Not with the image of Dr. Higgens, our esteemed division head, accidentally activating the emergency alert system for a sunny, cloudless day. The booming siren had sent us all ducking under desks before we realized it was a false alarm. Now, he's sheepishly making rounds, apologizing with a red face that could rival any severe thunderstorm warning on our charts.

"Sorry about that, Storm," he mumbles as he passes my desk, using the nickname that's stuck to me like dew on grass since my first forecast nailed a hailstorm's bullseye.

"Nothing like a little adrenaline rush to wake up the office," I quip, earning an appreciative chuckle from him and a few others within earshot.

I try to return to analyzing the pressure systems dancing over the Midwest, but my concentration is broken. Instead of cold fronts and jet streams, my mind replays the scene of seasoned meteorologists scrambling like rookies during their first tornado drill. It’s like watching a blooper reel of the most serious people I know, making me smirk.

I shake my head in a vain attempt to dislodge the lingering amusement.

But every time I glance at the radar, I see Dr. Higgens' flustered expression superimposed on the swirling greens and yellows. I stifle a laugh and take a deep breath, trying to refocus on the task at hand.

The buzzing of my phone pulls my attention. I glance at the screen, and a grin spreads across my face as Marina's name lights up the display.

Marina:Counting down to a Spring Break full of sun, sand, and a serious lack of severe weather updates! (beach and cocktail emojis)

Me:Looking forward to tan lines rather than tornadoes!

I power down my computer and start disconnecting cables with methodical precision. My laptop slides into its weathered sleeve, and I tuck it under my arm.

"Night, Harmony! Have a great vacation! Don't forget your sunscreen!" calls out one of the techs over the cubicle walls.

"Thanks, but don’t go chasing any storms next week while I’m out," I call back, my voice light but laced with the underlying truth that I’m already missing the thrill of the chase.

I slip on my comfortable commuter shoes. The desk is left clean, with every pen and paper in place. I love things to be in order amidst the chaotic forces of nature.

Out in the parking lot, the sun is starting to set as I slide into the driver's seat of my practical sedan.

Onward to home. Then Love Beach.

I’m excited to see Marina again after all these months. I’m definitely ready for some uninterrupted girl time and relaxation.

Ignition, air conditioning, favorite playlist—check, check, and check.

I pull out of the lot. The Bluetooth connects and Marina answers on the first ring.

"Harmony, you better not be packing any of those cardigans. Love Beach demands bikinis and sundresses!"

"Ha, the forecast does seem to favor minimal fabric," I chuckle, already picturing the soft white shores and lazy cabanas dotting the landscape. "But remember, it's me—I'll have at least one sweater for insurance."

"Girl, the only thing you need to insure is that we have enough sunscreen for your pale self," she teases.

"Speaking of protection, are you bringing that hockey player repellent, or do I need to pack some extra?" I ask, knowing full well the local team likes to roam the sands without fear of paparazzi.

"Only if you insist on deflecting every bit of flirtation coming your way," Marina quips. "Seriously though, Love Beach was the perfect pick—no distractions, just us and the waves."

"Yeah, you’re right. It checked all the boxes on vacation list," I reply.

I click off the call as I pull into my driveway. My suitcase lies open, awaiting its orderly transformation. I begin with the essentials, folding each item with precision, creating neat piles. Swimsuits paired by color, shorts aligned by length, shirts buttoned up and smoothed out.

"Let’s see, evening wear for potential dinners out… Check." I fold a sleek black dress.

I snap the last clasp of my suitcase shut, which is a small victory against me being a workaholic. A week off? The idea is strange, but I’m ready for some Marina-time, and honestly, I'm ready for a break from the Doppler radar.

With a huge tug and a pull, I drag the suitcase off the bed. It lands with a thud and then the silence of my apartment presses in. I'll miss this place, but the thought of early morning walks on cool sand with my best friend washes away any lingering doubts.

I know that work will survive without me. It’s just something I’ll have to get used to for a week. I know it’s just a week, not the rest of my life. I remind myself, grabbing my toothbrush and tossing it into the side compartment of my luggage. A whole week of no predictions, no alerts, just the unpredictable ebb and flow of tides and perhaps... romance?

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