Page 69 of Second Quarter Comeback
“That’s for me to know and for you to enjoy,” I say, my voice low as I lean in, closing the small distance between us.
The kiss isn’t rushed—it’s deliberate, a quiet confession of how much I’ve missed her. My lips meet hers softly, savoring the warmth of her skin and the way she tilts ever so slightly into me, as if drawn by a force neither of us can resist. Her breath catches, just barely, and her lips linger onmine, teasing me with the temptation to stay right here.
I pull back slowly, the urge to press her against the door threatening to undo me. If I let myself lean just a little closer, we’d never leave this spot. Her eyes meet mine, bright and searching, and I have to force myself to step away before I give in completely.
She blinks up at me, her cheeks a little pink, and that tiny flicker of satisfaction lights up my chest.
“Ready?” I ask, taking her hand.
“Depends,” she says, narrowing her eyes playfully. “You’re not dragging me to some boring sports thing, are you?”
I laugh as I guide her out of her apartment. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would ruin our first official day out together by talking stats and plays?”
She arches an eyebrow. “You do realize I’ve known you for a while, right?”
I press the elevator button, smirking as the doors slide open. “Trust me, Camille. I’ve got this. You’re in good hands today.”
She steps inside, her hand still in mine, and I can feel her relax just a little. The elevator doors close, and as we descend, I glance at her, unable to stop myself from stealing another look.
She catches me staring. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say, my grin widening. “Just happy you said yes.”
Her lips twitch, like she’s trying not to smile, butshe doesn’t say anything. Instead, she looks straight ahead, though I swear I catch the hint of a blush creeping up her neck.
Today is already off to a great start. And I’ll be damned if I don’t keep it that way.
Our first stop is Central Park. It’s buzzing with life, but that’s part of its charm. The paths are alive with runners, tourists, and kids zipping past on scooters like they’re training for the Olympics. Overhead, the trees filter sunlight into patches of gold, creating a scene so picturesque it could be a postcard.
We grab coffees from a small stand, the kind that probably hasn’t updated its menu since the ‘90s, and start strolling. The air smells like roasted nuts and faint whiffs of hot dogs from nearby carts. Somewhere in the distance, a street performer is belting out a slightly off-key rendition ofNew York, New York, but it just adds to the ambiance.
At another cart, I stop to buy us a pretzel, handing it to her with a grin. “You have to admit, this is one of the best parts of New York.”
She tears off a piece, giving me a skeptical look. “The pretzels or the park?”
“Both,” I say, nudging her shoulder lightly. “But I really enjoy the park. Sometimes, instead of hitting the gym in my building, I come here for my morning runs.”
She gives me a look like I’ve just suggested eating kale for dessert. “If I were into running, I’d join you. But since no one is chasing me, I fail to see the point.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You don’t need someone chasing you to enjoy running. It’s peaceful, clears your mind?—”
“It sounds like punishment,” she cuts in. “Voluntarily making yourself tired? On purpose? For fun? No, thanks. I’d rather sleep.”
I smirk, popping a piece of pretzel into my mouth. “You’d change your mind if you tried it. The endorphins are amazing. Plus, it’s great for your heart.”
“Great for my heart?” She raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement. “You’re telling me that sweating, gasping for air, and risking shin splints is better for me than a leisurely stroll through the park with coffee and a pretzel?”
“Absolutely,” I say, grinning. “It’s scientifically proven.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling now, that soft, teasing smile that gets me every time. “You keep running. I’ll stick to not running and being happy about it.”
“Fair enough,” I say, holding out another piece of pretzel. “But one day, you’ll be begging me to take you on a jog through this park.”
She snorts. “Yeah, that’ll happen right after I voluntarily sign up for a boot camp class.”
“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” I counter, nudging her with my elbow again.
She takes the pretzel, shaking her head. “You’re relentless.”
