“Ready for some walking in the park?” he asks, coming toward me smiling.
A block on from the diner, we cross at the lights into the park. We follow the paved path, and it becomes obvious Luke knows exactly where he is going, toward the glistening pond in the distance. We seem to have been reduced to talking about the weather as we stroll along the path. Just like we’ve joked about before in our texts.
Cutting across a grassy area away from the bustle of Sunday dog walkers, he leads me deeper into the nature sanctuary till we reach an isolated bench in a pocket of spring sunshine. I’m surprised that we seem to be the only people around.
Taking a seat, I can see glimpses of the water through the low branches and in the distance tall buildings. Who’d have thought you could find this private little oasis in Central Park.
I realize this is the first time we've been truly alone, and it makes me nervous all over again. Fidgeting with the hem of my sweater, I try to calm the butterflies in my stomach. My senses are heightened as he sits close to me on the bench. His body heat reaching me through my sweater.
A gentle breeze blows, teasing at his thick dark hair and wafting his woody cologne toward me. He runs his hand through his hair, and I wish I could reach out to follow the same path with my hand.
Unpacking the sandwiches from the paper bag, Luke passes me one, our hands touching briefly.
“This is such a pretty spot. How did you know this bench was here?” I ask, curious to hear how he found this special private place.
“You’ve caught me out. I found this bench a few years ago and have come here many times since. I like how quiet and restful this place is. Sometimes the crowds and noise of the city gets too much. I feel a bit claustrophobic and need a place outside in nature to keep me grounded.”
I love his openness. But I’m struggling to recognize this man as the boy I once knew, so I joke, “So how many women have been impressed by a spontaneous picnic lunch here?” Damn, there goes my mouth running away again without thinking, I sound like a jealous schoolgirl.
“None,” he replies bluntly. “It wouldn’t be my quiet place anymore if I brought women here.”
This man confuses me. “Yet you’ve brought me here today… and last time I checked, I’m a woman.”
Shrugging his shoulders, he replies simply, “I trust you, I guess. I know this probably sounds crazy, but you know me better than most people.”
“Yep, that’s crazy. I haven’t been part of your life for years. I only found out you lived in the same city as me a couple of weeks ago and I don’t know a lot more than that.”
“I know, I agree that’s all true. But I don’t let people in easily, especially in recent years. The first night in the wine bar, I probably told you more about my feelings than I’ve even shared with my mom.” He shrugs uncomfortably.
I’m pleased to hear his words. To know he trusts me. But I’m also a little sad for him.
“I wish I felt like I did know you. At dinner on Wednesday, we mostly talked about our jobs and the past. Will you tell me more about you now?”
“Sure, if you promise to tell me more about you too,” he says, smiling warmly at me. This sounds like a good idea to me.
We begin to swap stories back and forth as I unwrap my lunch. But when I begin to tug the thick crusts off my sandwich, I notice the quirk of Luke's brow.
"Do you have something to say?" I ask knowing he has spotted my old habit of not eating the crusts of bread.
With a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, he tells me, "You do know you'll never get curly hair if you don't eat your crusts."
I roll my eyes as he repeats the old taunt which feels as quick and familiar as it was back in high school.
"You do realize that is a myth," I reply laughing as I always did in the past then ease back onto the bench as I relax back into our conversation.
When we finish our lunch, Luke gathers our wrappers and walks over to drop them in the nearby garbage can. He returns, asking, “Are you warm enough?”
The air is turning a bit cool as the afternoon sun sinks lower in the sky and the shadows lengthen.
“It's getting a bit cold. How about we walk for a bit?” I suggest.
“Come on then, beautiful,” Luke says as he extends his hand to me and his mouth lifts into another sexy smile. My eyes are drawn again to his full tempting lips. I remember how good those lips felt when he kissed me.
I place my hand in his warm grip, our fingers interlocking instinctively. My heart races at his touch. I love the roughness of his palm against my softer skin. I wonder how his hand would feel on other parts of my body.
Standing from the bench, he gently tugs me closer into his embrace. His head bends to gaze into my eyes, and my heartbeat increases. Is he going to kiss me?
I see the same question lingering in his pale, almost gray gaze. My answer is to stand on my toes and press my mouth to his. Unleashing a deep moan from him as he takes over the kiss. Gently parting my lips. Stealing my breath as his tongue explores, deepening our connection. I bring my hand up to run my fingers through his soft hair. Playing with the curled ends resting on his collar.
