I blink twice before deciding the correct path is total denial.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He lifts a single thick eyebrow at me, and I crumple, smiling. “Okay, I may or may not have been watching you. I was just shocked it was you. What are the chances, you know?”
I stand, gather my bag, and slide the sketch book inside. Then, I walk the ten feet to his bench and sit beside him, leaving about two feet of space between us.
“Yeah, sure. Feel free to sit next to me.” His words are deadpan as he gestures toward me, and I grin.
“I’m June,” I say, putting a hand out to him. He looks at it a second longer than polite before his own large hand comes out, engulfing mine and shaking it cordially.
“Graham.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles lightly before he releases my hand. “So did you do it?”
“Do it?” I ask, confused.
“Quit your job.”
“Ah, yes. I did.”
“How do you feel?” he asks, leaning back and crossing his arms on his chest. His white button-down stretches across broad shoulders in a way I most definitely donotnotice.
“I… I don’t know,” I admit with a laugh.
The setting sun plays across his features: a thin layer of scruff that doesn’t look unkempt on him, his hair mussed by the wind off the water, his green eyes reflecting the colors of the water.
“I actually start my new job tomorrow, so we’ll see if I deeply regret it or not.” I let out a sigh, that nervous energy creeping. “But I really don’t want to talk about work. I feel like this is all anyone wants to talk to me about, and it’s making me a bit bonkers.”
“Fair enough,” he says.
“What were you yelling about?” I ask.
“Work. But I don’t really want to talk about work, either.”
“Fair enough,” I say with a laugh.
After a while, we fall into a silence. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s there, lingering between us. I think of Claire and Lainey, my phone still buzzing in my pocket, before I gather the nerve to speak once more.
“Do you want to get a drink with me?”
“A drink?”
“Yes. Liquid that you imbibe? Sometimes alcoholic, often an excuse to extend the time you’re spending with someone?”
Then it happens: the edges of his lips tip up in the barest hint of a smile. It’s handsome, even if the whisper of the expression looks a bit unnatural on his face.
“You want to spend time with me?”
“I’m sorry; that’s weird, right? Ignore me. I’m just gonna—” I start with a laugh, shaking my head and standing as I prepare to leave.
Before I can walk away, he stands up too. He reaches out and wraps his hand gently around my wrist, pulling me closer. I have to look up at him as he shifts his arm to wrap around my waist. It should be strange to be touched by a stranger, but instead, my body relaxes, and it feels surprisingly natural.
As if this was meant to be. I’ve always believed in luck and fate, but standing in Graham’s arms, I can’t imaginenotthinking that the universe has guided me along so I would end up right here.
“It’s not weird. I’ve been trying to think of a way to casually get you to spend more time with me.”
“Oh,” I say the words in the barest whisper.
“There’s a good bar at my hotel. Let’s get a drink. See where things go,” he murmurs.
“Where are you staying?”
