Page 6 of The Trade Up

“Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be standing around outside tonight, so I didn’t bring a heavy coat.”

I glance down at the lightweight down jacket she’s wearing. “You’re welcome to my body heat, if you want it.”

For a moment she stands there frozen, but eventually she leans back against me. When I wrap my arms around the front of her where she’s folded her arms across her chest, she sighs. “You weren’t kidding about running hot.”

A small laugh rattles my chest. She has no idea what her proximity is doing to me right now.

“This view—” My words ruffle her hair as my breath skims across the top of her head, and she shivers in my arms. “—reminds me a tiny bit of home.”

“Yeah?”

“My mom is a professor at the Ontario College of Art and Design, so growing up we lived right there. If you’re standing at the main building on campus, you have an amazing view of the CN Tower, but you get views more like this one from some of the parks along the waterfront.”

“Hmmm.” Her ribcage vibrates along my abdomen, and with her body pressed up against mine she’s about to find out just how much that sensation, with her in my arms, turns me on. “What’s your mom teach?”

“Sculpture. She specializes in metal and bronze.”

“Oh! Did you notice the Changing Form sculpture?” she asks as she turns, pulling away from me, and points to a steel sculpture several yards to our left.

“I didn’t,” I tell her. I’d been so focused on the view as we approached that I hadn’t noticed the big circular brick steps leading up to the rectangular metal base of the statue. It’s mostly open with big circular cutouts, but the top piece of the statue is cylindrical. “Why’s it called Changing Form?”

She grabs my forearm, and tugs me toward the statue, explaining the top part was originally movable, so the sculpture could change form, but it ended up being welded together for safety reasons. “Its other name,” Ashleigh says, “is the Kinetic and Volumetric Space Frame, which makes my physics-loving heart happy.”

“Your heart loves physics?”

“My bachelor’s degree is in Aeronautical & Astronautical Engineering.”

“That’s amazing,” I say as we take the steps up to the statue. “And I’m a little intimidated, to be honest.”

She lets out a small laugh and says, “I get that a lot.”

I run my hand along the smooth frame of the statue. “My mom would love this,” I tell her.

“Here,” she says, digging her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll take a picture of you with it so you can send it to her.”

“Alright,” I say, stepping inside the base of the frame. Even though I hate having my photo taken, my mom will love this and it’s thoughtful of Ashleigh to suggest it. I turn and grip the sides of the oval cutout, smiling right as her flash nearly blinds me. “And now I’m seeing spots,” I mutter.

“But it was worth it, because look…” she says, handing me her phone.

The picture is terrible. The light reflects off the statue so you can’t really tell what it looks like, but I’m front and center smiling, and my mom will love that. “It’s perfect.” I use her phone to take a photo of the statue by itself, and with the light from the city behind me the statue sort of glows.

“Can I send these to myself?”

As a general rule, I never give my phone number to women. For obvious reasons, I communicate strictly on a DM basis on social media. But I don’t want to explain that to Ashleigh, so when she takes her phone and opens a new text message and hands it back to me, I try not to consider that I’m breaking this rule for her.

Instead, I type in my number, attach the photos, and send. Then I hand her phone back to her, pull my own phone out, and respond to the message.

Zach:

Hey, it’s Zach.

Ashleigh:

Oh, so you have a name?

I glance over at her. “I didn’t tell you my name?”

“Nope.” She holds up her phone so I can see the contact info she must have saved the second I handed the phone back.

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