He just looks down at my hand in his. They fit so well. He picks it up and carefully re-wraps his around mine. I smile. He's so gentle. "I'm hungry."
"We could have ordered pizza."
"Or," he sighs, leaning his lips into my hair, "we could go out and eat something. Me in clean clothes and you in something you've worn for a day."
I hit him in the chest and we continue walking. I love walking with him.
"Let's just get something from a vendor," I suggest.
"A vendor?" he chuckles. "Where are there vendors in Chicago?"
I laugh, too. "A park?"
"A park?" he asks. "Abigail Lockhart wants to go to a park?"
I can't believe I'm okay with all of this. Me and him, I mean. Not the damn park.
The word 'damn' hardly fits into my vocabulary right now though. I'm still smiling, remember.
"We can go to the park and eat pretzels or something," I say with a smile. That's another one.
"I think you're confusing Chicago with Manhattan there," he says. His hand slides away from mine and takes a different position around my waist. He brings me closer to him so our sides meet. When they touch, I want to hug him even tighter. But I won't.
"Fine," I surrender. "You pick." I add this with a laugh and turn to him. I look up at him. It never hit me how tall he was. Or how short I was.
"What about - "
"There's a vendor!" I exclaim in pure glory. I point to the side of the street. "Ha! I told you there were vendors around here."
" 'Pete's?' " he asks. He shakes his head with another darling chuckle. "I've never heard of them. I think we better steer clear. Might be some foreign crap that gives you diarrhea, or gonorrhea or something - "
"Okay, yuck," I say, putting my hand up in the air. "Pete looks like a good guy. I say we go for it."
"Go for it?" he says. "Its a pretzel. You don't put that much commitment into a pretzel."
"You do for one with a side effect of an STD, apparently," I say, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer yet. He smiles and playfully pulls on my side. "Let's take a risk."
"As if there's not enough of that going on already," he says quietly.
We can't help but stop. He's hit a spot in me that I really didn't want him to go near. I figured, though, that sooner or later we'd hit it, talk about it. I just didn't think we would be talking about it so soon.
"Let's not talk about that," I whisper. "I just want to have fun with you."
"You just want to have fun with me?"
"Not like that," I say. "As in, I want to forget about Luka right now. Not use you to forget about him."
He smiles and kisses me lightly on the lips. "Let's get a pretzel."
My frown returns to a smile. We tug on the other's waist childishly for the next minute as we make our way over to the man behind the contraption on wheels. Carter treats me to a pretzel, and whaddya know? Its not that bad.
And there's certainly not any obstruction that we spoke of before.
We enjoy our snacks and take a seat on a familiar bench. Next to the river. We've been here so often, that I wouldn't find it odd if we ended up getting married here. Hey, I could have kids on this bench.
Okay. Either I'm seriously happy or this pretzel's getting to my head. I never say things like that.
But we sit down and sit there. Our pretzels are long gone and we're still staring out at the river. My head falls against his shoulder, and his head falls onto mine. I'm guessing its about ten o'clock in the morning. I'm a little cold, but I don't say anything.
"It's getting cold, isn't it?" Ha. So much for not saying anything.
"You want my jacket?"
Any guy would do it, but I find it most thoughtful when he asks. "No, thanks." My offer's another smile, even though he can't see it. My head's still on his shoulder. Our hands remain together, happily resting on his knee.
I've said it once before.
I think I've repeated everything, but I don't care.
I *never* want moments with him to end. Even though, secretly I know that the next one will only be better, I still wish that I'll stay. Frozen or something, I'll stay with him in that never-ending second and enjoy a carefree life. Because in these moments, I do forget everything.
Except now. But I know that something will take me away from it -
"Are you sure you're not cold?" he asks, cuddling even closer to me. His face sits on my head again, so my face is near his neck.
Don't ever let it end, God, please. I can't do it without him.
"Not anymore," I giggle. Flirt? Yeah, okay. Maybe.
Apparently, our flirting days are over. I'll thank Heaven for that everyday, I will.
"Please," he chuckles. "Your hands are like ice. Your fingers."
I whimper another giggle, suppressed at my own will. He takes each hand of mine, so gently they're floating, and just holds them. So much feeling is streaming between the two of us right now, you couldn't call it just 'electricity' or whatever anymore. It's serious. And strong. It's what is holding my sanity in that translucent cloud overhead.
He turns my face to see his. He smiles. "You're wonderful."
I shake my head. "So are you."
We stare. Something we've been good at for a while. Our eyes are locked. I can't move. I can't think. I don't want to do anything, in fear that I'll tear us apart. And that's something I definitely cannot do.
He breaks it though. I feel its for a good reason.
"Come on," he says. "Let's go get ice cream or something."
"Ice cream?"
"You know, that stuff in a cone." He smirks. "Ice cream."
I hug him closer to my body as he stands. I bury my face in his side for a second, near his arm, and I smile. Can you smile 'hard?' Well, that's what I'm doing. Taking in his scent, wanting to cry because I'm so happy, and smiling very 'hard.' I think you can smile 'hard.'
I hope he didn't see it, but it's a little hard to miss.
He plants a little kiss through my hair and laughs against it. "What do you want to do?"
I look up, barely moving from him as we start walking away from our beloved bench. "So, no ice cream?"
"You choose."
I grin. "Hot fudge sundaes."
"Ah," he says, digging a fun hug at me again. I fully surrender and wrap my arms around his neck as he stoops to my level to kiss me.
We're both smiling.
"Come on," he says with a nod. "Doc Magoo's, or is that too close to the hospital?"
I frown. "Don't act like we have perimeters now."
"Sorry," he says, looking down, "but, I'm serious. Only for your sake."
"My sake?"
"I mean," he starts, "you're the one who said you were suspicious about people at the hospital. What they might think."
I nod now. "Yeah, okay. I see what you mean."
We walk a little. I don't know where we're going. I haven't confirmed Doc's yet, neither have I commented on the hospital-gossip situation. I should have. I should.
"Are you upset?"
I look up at him. I can't smile, though. Its too difficult. "No," I say, small voice reigning. "I just didn't want us like this."
"What?" he asks immediately.
"I want to be with you," I say strongly. "But I can't help but feel guilty. I'm sorry - "
"Don't be," he whispers. We stop walking and I realize that we haven't even come far from the bench. I'd rather go back there now with him, if that is at all feasible... "If you don't feel so great about this, then we shouldn't be doing it I guess."
"Did you think I felt okay with it before?"
"No," he says. "I know you. But if you don't want to do this - "
"I want to be with you."
"That's not what I'm saying," he protests calmly. "If you don't want to do this, this behind Luka's back, then you shouldn't."
"You don't want to."
"I don't want to be away from you," he says, sighing. "But I don't want to be in something you don't like."
"I can't stand another four days."
"I think you can."
"I think I can stand another four days then of guilt, torture and conscious-beating," I say. "If that's what it takes."
"Please be careful with this decision, Abby," he says, taking my shoulders. "I don't like to see you unhappy or anything."
"I'm happy," I say. "It'll be about fifty-fifty until Luka gets back, you know."
He pulls me into another hug after a second. I smile into him again. Hard.
