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“I guess I’ve been a little preoccupied with work. I hired a dog walking service to take him out while I’m gone. But other than his bathroom breaks and maybe a small walk down to the café, he was always content the way things were.” He frowned a little. “Of course, maybe that’s because he never knew there were better options out there—”
Before Walker could finish that thought, Bruno started to bark and bolted, pulling me with him. He apparently thought that the pair of pigeons at the end of the bridge wanted to play.
I kept a death grip on his leash, desperate not to let him get loose—that would be awful. He was friendly as could be, but he was a big dog, and the last thing we needed was him getting in trouble with another dog or something.
That said…
Bruno’s little pigeon friends were apparently too dumb or fat to fly away, so they just waddled in the other direction, and Bruno kept right on chasing them. He was straining at the end of his leash, and considering he weighed at least half what I did—and had a lower center of gravity—I couldn’t get him to slow down.
“Bruno! Bruno, no! Come on now, be a good dog!” I called after him helplessly, as if reasoned conversation would get him to stop.
“Macks! Wait!” Walker ran after the two of us, catching me by the sleeve since both my hands were occupied with the leash.
The pigeons finally took flight when they reached the edge of a small pond in the middle of the park. Bruno skidded to a stop, and I tried to do the same, but I’d built up too good a head of steam.
I tripped over the small ledge surrounding the man-made pond, catching Walker by surprise. He kept his grip on my sleeve as we tumbled over each other right into the water.
“Holy fuckbuckets!” was the last thing to come out of my mouth before my head went under.
The pond was shallow, at least, but ‘shallow’ didn’t mean ‘not wet,’ and Walker and I were both definitely wet, wet, wet. We stared at each other as we sat in the water, the bottom of the pond squis
hy and muddy beneath our asses as Bruno barked happily at the pigeons, who I was convinced by now were teasing him intentionally. Whatever; he seemed happy.
Before I could help myself, a smile broke out over my face. I started to laugh, and Walker started to, as well.
“This feels like something out of a Disney movie,” he said wryly, slicking his wet hair back from his face. “Is this where I apologize for my dog and ask you out to lunch?”
I snorted. “Maybe after we’re not soaking wet and covered in algae.”
“Are you sure? It’s such an eco-friendly fashion accessory…”
* * *
“You’re glowing.”
Alex cocked his head at me, an all-too-knowing smirk twisting his lips.
With Walker back at work, the house had seemed way too empty, so I had called Alex to meet me at La Rue café for some coffee and catching up. We sat outside on the patio with Bruno sitting obediently and quietly beside us, occasionally earning a sweet little head pat from a passerby.
You’re glowing. His words reverberated in my mind, and I tugged my bottom lip between my teeth.
Was I? I could’ve sworn it was just the crisp breeze flushing my skin, but apparently not. I sipped my flat white and chuckled; this was probably the most stereotypical artsy scene I’d ever found myself in—a mid-day café visit with my best friend, my dog, and a fancy coffee.
“There it is again!” Alex pointed at my face, sitting up straighter like a hound dog on the scent. “That look.”
“I’m just happy. It’s a nice day. What’s not to be happy about?”
He tipped his chin down, raising a single eyebrow. “Girl, you and I have been friends for a long time. I think I know the difference between you being happy and you glowing. And I’m pretty sure we both know I’m not the source of your effervescence right now. Spill. What happened? Someone pick up your art? You have a new piece you like?” He waggled his brows at me. “Did you get laid?”
Okay, now I could feel the flush on my cheeks. I tried to keep my face impassive, but something in my expression must’ve given me away. He gasped, slapping his hand down on the surface of the table.
“I knew it. Big Bucks Boy finally put out. Tell me alllll about it.”
Where was I supposed to start?
I wasn’t shy when it came to sex. Most artists weren’t. Sex was almost an art in and of itself—with the right partner, anyway. There was the same kind of passion and unrestrained abandon that went into the two. All through college, Alex and I would swap stories with each other. When we made the choice to drop out to pursue a less ‘academic’ route for our art, that didn’t change.
But there was something different about talking about sex with Walker. It wasn’t that it was somehow more magical, or more private. I just honest-to-god didn’t know how to describe it. Simply relating how he’d held me, how he’d dominated and cherished my body, how he’d made me feel, seemed inadequate.
