Nothing crazy. I don't believe that, but I am also not going to push the topic. And we’re at our stop anyway.
The public garden is in full summer glory. Everywhere you look, vibrant greens glow while flowers lend pops of color. On the pond, a few folks are even out in the swan boats. It’s an image worthy of a postcard. Even I'm impressed.
“It's no Central Park,” I say, leading us to the shoreline of the pond. “But it has its own charm.”
“It's lovely,” Toni says, soaking in everything. “Do you mind if I-” She pulls a sketch pad from her bag.
Satisfaction explodes in my chest. “Not at all. I figured this might be the kind of place you'd like to sketch.” I take a set of pastels and pencils from my bag, offering them to her.
She looks from the tools to me and back. “Cillian...”
“I didn’t know what you typically use, so I got some tips from Lucy. But I wasn’t sure if you'd have anything with you, so just in case.”
“They're perfect.” Toni takes them, eyes wide. “Thank you. I won't keep us long, I just want to get a general?—”
“We can stay as long as you want.” I pull a pocket picnic blanket from my bag. As I lay it out, she doesn't move, just stares at me, almost confused.
I sit and gesture for her to join me.
“Won't you be bored?” She asks.
“Nope.” I pull out my book, but she still doesn't move.
“Toni.” I lower my voice a touch, hoping to gentlycommand her attention. “Sit down. Or walk around. Whatever you want to do. But you can't just stand there staring at me.”
That breaks the spell. She settles beside me, her exposed thigh pressed against my pant leg.
I can’t resist giving her thigh a squeeze as I lean over to whisper in her ear, “Good girl.”
A bright laugh tumbles from her lips as another blush colors her round cheeks. “Oh, fuck you.” She playfully pushes me away.
“Can dish it but not take it?” That, “Yes, Sir”she left me on the other night has been burning in my mind ever since.
“Oh,” she purrs. “I'm very good at taking it.”
“We'll see about that.” I open my book and gesture to the view before I do anything too foolish.
Silence has always been my mother tongue. So much so that my parents worried something was wrong when I was a kid. Nothing was; I just never felt the need to fill the void like everyone else seemed to. It's a trait that hasn't historically served me well in the human connection department.
After a time, it becomes clear Toni is just as fluent in silence as I am. The quiet that falls between us isn't just comfortable, it's easy. So easy that before I know it, more than an hour has passed and my stomach is growling.
Toni's hand still moves across the page, stealing inspiration from the scene before her, transmuting it into something more enchanting than the reality could ever be.
“That's beautiful,” I say.
I catch her half-smile. “It's just a sketch.”
“Do you always take compliments so well?”
“What was it you called music? Just a hobby?”
I can't even be butt-hurt about that. “Touché.”
She stretches, letting herself fall back onto the blanket, eyes on the blue summer sky above us. I can't look away.
“This was great. Thank you.” In the sunlight, her eyes are almost auburn. Rich and warm and...
I clear my throat. “We’re not done yet.”
