I swat his shoulder.
“Damon!” I squeal, scandalized.
“Heart!” Damon finishes, laughing at my expression. “Why’d you hit me? Did you think I was going to say something else?”
I roll my eyes playfully, but don’t answer. He falls into stride beside me, a wide grin still on his face.
“I agree that you have abig, fat heart,” I say with a smirk, “but you’re alsobeautiful. It’s a good thing, too, considering your fashion sense is severely lacking.” I look pointedly at his shoes—the dreaded trainers.
“Hey,” he cries in mock offense. “You said this was a walking date.” He purses his lips when I have to bite back my giggle.
“I figured they were finally appropriate.” He gestures to my shoes. “Those boots weren’t made for walking.”
I scoff.
“When you’re a professional walker,allshoes are made for walking.” I do a small pirouette in my heeled bootswithout the slightest wobble to prove my point. Damon actually looks impressed.
“I stand corrected.”
We walk side by side, enjoying the brisk weather, a light fog casting a blanket over the colorful scenery, when Damon breaks the comfortable silence.
“I didn’t mean to call this a date,” he says, looking straight ahead and pretending interest in a red maple tree to our left. “I mean, I know we just started exploring what this is…”
He trails off, his voice small, hesitant, and I automatically take his hand, intertwining our fingers.
“I think we should clear the air,” I suggest, pausing my steps. Damon looks quizzically at the fog surrounding us, and I bump my shoulder into his with a smile. “Figuratively, I mean.”
I pull us to a nearby bench, then turn to give him my full attention.
“First, I want to apologize for the mixed messages.”
“You don’t have to—”
“No, I do,” I interrupt, unwilling to let him excuse my wishy-washiness. He’s been beyond understanding; I can at least offer accountability. I count my sins on my fingers.
“I treated you like a booty call before asking you whatyouwanted. I openly flirted with you, even after you said we should just be friends—”
“Which Iliked!” Damon insists. I pat hishand.
“Maybe, but I still didn’t respect your boundaries,” I counter, “pushing for what I wanted when you’d made your position clear.”
When he grudgingly stays quiet, I continue.
“I used you to try to make my ex jealous—”
“Kissing you wasn’t exactly a hardship,” Damon interjects.
“And then, after we agreed Friday would be a one-time thing, I got mad at you for sticking to the terms of engagement. It wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”
Damon looks down at our hands, still intertwined, the contrast of our skin tones alluring.
“Just so we’re clear,” he murmurs, “nowyou—”
“I like you. Like…reallylike you. And today is absolutely a date. As long asyouwant it to be,” I rush to add.
Damon’s answering smile is radiant, and I can’t help but smile back.
“Hell yeah, I want it to be,” he hoots. “I’ve wanted that since I saw you at Denise’s show.”
