Tim O'Sullivan, and 5,674 words

Today was a relatively uninspired day... I had a really hard time finding an excerpt that I wanted to share! I decided to introduce you all to Tim O'Sullivan. Word count: 5,674 words.

"She stepped out into the rain, lifting her denim jacket over her head, hoisting her laptop over her right shoulder. This was not going to be easy. About halfway there, her feet began to slip inside her shoes. She was completely drenched, the denim jacket soaking and dripping water down her arms. But with so much rain coming down, who knew where the water was coming from? About ¾ of the way back to the residence, she began to have serious doubts about making it there without tumbling off her feet. Goddamnit! Her tan skirt was completely drenched, and was sticking to her legs. As she looked down, her heart sank as she realized that her skirt had become transparent with the rain water.
Great. She hoped against hope that her skirt was not as wet as the back as it was in the front. So preoccupied was she with her coat, laptop, nude skirt, and walking without falling, she didn’t notice right away that a police car had pulled up and was driving slowly next to her. While Reggie self-consciously adjusted her skirt, trying to ensure that her junk was covered, she was imagining how embarrassing it would be to run into someone she knew right now. Embarrassing, or maybe it would be romantic. Maybe that cute professor who had been flirting with her would pull up right now, and offer her a ride. Without any real expectation that she would see anything, Reggie glanced toward the road.
Fuck, she thought, a cop. She immediately faced forward and quickened her pace, hoping that the cop took no notice of her. Hoping that he didn’t arrest her for indecent exposure or something. Damn her tan skirt!! She pretended not to notice as the car crawled down the street, keeping pace with her. In her peripheral vision, she noticed that the driver’s side window had rolled down. Dammit!! Then he spoke.
“Grubauer!” Despite the pounding of the rain, despite the years that had passed since she had heard the voice, she recognized it instantly, and her heart froze. She had imagined running into him many times, had wished for it more times than she could count, but in all honesty, when she imagined this moment, her hair was dry, her clothes were not sheer and sticking to her skin, and her face was not covered with streaks of mascara. She stopped walking, and slowly turned toward the street.
There he was. Tim motherfucking O’Sullivan. As she looked, the car stopped, and he quickly opened the door and climbed out. He was tall, seemed even taller than the last time she had seen him, though she supposed that was impossible. His longish dark hair quickly became saturated with the rain, and clung to his handsome face. Why did he look so... worried? Oh God, he probably thought she was a prostitute or something. They stood there on the sidewalk for what seemed like a long time, who knows how much time actually passed, and does it really matter? Perhaps not.
Who broke the spell first? Reggie doesn’t remember, because after that drawn out moment, everything jumped into overdrive. And though it was a miserable moment, she was freezing cold, soaking wet, and embarrassed beyond belief, it was a beautiful moment, in what would otherwise be a terrible 24 hour period. Tim O’Sullivan, drawn from the very depths of her past to deliver a message. Summoned by her cold, unfeeling mother to deliver a message. Because it was the most convenient thing to do. Because she would rather have Tim O’Sullivan tell Reggie that her father was dead than pick up the phone and do it herself.