And Porter seems to clock the swoon.
“We certainly are,” he murmurs.
He looks at me as though he's discovered a secret.
One that he’s willing to keep, I hope.
We linger for a moment, close enough to notice the flecks of hazel in his eyes.
At first, neither of us speak.
Is he waiting for something?
Has he asked me a question?
“So is it?”
“Huh?”
“Is it true that you've never been to the city before? Ever?”
He seems intrigued by this.
I’m hesitant to answer.
Some queries teeter on the brink of topics I’d rather not discuss.
“Never,” I confess. “Guess I'm a city virgin.”
Porter's tongue swirls softly against the inside of his cheek, eyes burning into mine.
“Country boy, huh?”
His inhale is slow, his smile as shy as mine.
He nods toward the stairs.
“I'm heading down to the waterfront in an hour. I could show you around?”
How wild to imagine a river with tall buildings on either side.
I’ve seen it snake across the map, weaving in and out of the urban sprawl.
Probably nothing like my river back home though.
The one refuge where I could always find peace.
“Count me in.”
I try to sound casual, but my mind is racing.
Something about him stirs a hunger I’ve spent half a lifetime trying to suppress.
“Bus ride must have been tiring,” he says.
He opens a nearby cupboard and hands me two neatly folded towels.
“Feel like a shower?”
