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“Mexican free-tailed bats.” My fingers subconsciously lift her braid and gently feel the texture of her hair as I watch her and the bats at the same time.
“Bats!” She pulls her phone from her back pocket and takes a few pictures. “I wish I had my camera,” she mumbles to herself.
“Yep. They say there are roughly one and a half million that live under this bridge, the largest urban bat colony in North America. They’ve become a big part of the city from late spring to early fall as they fly out every night just before the sun sets.”
“Why are they here?” she asks as she takes a few more of them overhead with mostly just the bats and the sky, and then she turns us so we are in a selfie with the bats in the background.
“It’s something to do with the way the bridge is built. There are narrow crevices, which apparently are the perfect place for bat families. They migrate and return here every year to have more babies.”
“They don’t attack people, do they?” She sets her phone down then settles back next to me to watch the last few fly off into the sky.
“No, I asked that question when I was booking this. They sometimes swoop close, but they don’t attack. They are afraid of people.” I wrap my arm around her.
“Where are they going?” Her eyes stay trained on the massive dark spot as they all fly in the same direction.
“The boat company told me they fly east toward the Colorado River. They’re looking for insects to eat.”
Silence falls over us as we watch the scene around us—the bats, the people, the other boats—and it’s a completely comfortable silence. Emma’s hand is back on my thigh and mine has covered hers, my fingers threading between hers.
I want this.
I want more of this.
But I don’t want to change or ruin tonight, so we’ll just have to discuss it tomorrow. For the first time in a long time, when it comes to her, I feel sure and confident. I’m excited for what’s next and even though I’m very much looking forward to tonight, tomorrow can’t get here fast enough.
“Clay, that was incredible.” She snuggles closer. “Thank you for this,” she says as the boat starts moving again.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
Once we’ve cleared the bridge and are mostly out of sight, I lean down and kiss her again. She opens her mouth, and her tongue lightly brushes against mine. Heat pours into my veins. I pull her legs over mine and wrap my arms all the way around her, hugging her to me.
Why is it always like this with her?Why do I feel like I can’t get close enough?
Forty-five minutes, I tell myself.Less than an hour until we’re back in our room where no one will be watching.
28
EMMA
Last night was by far the best date I have ever been on. I haven’t necessarily been on a lot, it’s just most were dinner out, maybe a fun bar for drinks, and not much more than that. Clay went above and beyond with the planning and the thoughtfulness, and it was one of the happiest nights I’ve ever had. He made me feel appreciated and special, something I haven’t experienced in a long time.
Is this what life would be like with him, lazy mornings full of love and affection, music that runs through both our veins, trips where we plan fun excursions, and getting outdoors to do things like trail hikes and snowboarding? If so, I can’t imagine anything better, and I can’t wait to get him to New York to show him all my favorite places. Two hours outside the city there are amazing ski resorts, and we could spend a day on Long Island touring different wineries. I’m certain Moose would like it too as the city is very dog friendly.
I glance at the hotel clock, my heart feeling heavier and heavier with each minute that ticks by as the time for me to leave gets closer. Cora decided to stay the extra day too, and she moved both of our flights to later this morning.
Rolling over, I turn to look at Clay, who’s sleeping so peacefully. He’s on his back, one arm pulled up by his head, his lips parted just a little. His chest rises and falls evenly with each breath, and I’m surprised by how bad it hurts when I think about leaving him. My soul, which feels like it belongs to him, cries out at the realization that I’m going to separate us. It doesn’t feel natural. I don’t know where that leaves me, leaves us, and suddenly I feel overcome with anxiety too.
I mean this trip was always going to come to an end, so how did I let this happen? I’m usually so good at thinking ahead. I usually know the outcome, and now I’m finding myself in a position where everything about this feels risky and unsure, and I don’t like it. Then again, I try to calm myself by asking,Where is the risk?My goal has always been to get to step three. Did I accomplish it? It sure feels like I did, but what now? We haven’t exactly made any declarations to each other and it’s not like I expect us to ride off into the sunset together, but would it be so bad if we did? I can’t be the only one of the two of us wondering what’s next.
Slipping out of the bed, I move about the room as quietly as I can to pack my things. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t freaking out, because I am. I also know I do this too. When things feel uncertain and insecure, my confidence in my situation and other people starts to spiral, and suddenly I’m so homesick for my condo and the safety of what’s familiar that I would do anything to be able to teleport myself there.
Breathe, Emma. Just breathe.
“Morning,” I hear grumbled from his side of the bed.
I’m just about to the bathroom, and I turn to watch him yawn and then stretch. It’s bright enough in here that everything is visible. He’s so handsome it hurts to look at him. What if I didn’t accomplish step three and my feelings are just one-sided? I worried about this too over New Year’s, and although we’ve talked for months, he really hasn’t given me any reason to believe we could be something more.
“Morning,” I answer, leaning against the doorframe for support. I don’t want him to see that I’m internally freaking out, but I am. I’m so into him, and what if he’s not as into me? Ugh. I should just ask him, talk to him, but my nerves are winning and my brain is not.
