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Landon can't even fully scowl anymore. "Fair."
"Thanks."
He steps forward. "Is that a no?"
"No, it's a... let's see if any are available. Paddle boats are pretty popular with tourists."
"Who said it's a paddle boat?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, did you manage to squeeze a cruise ship in here?"
We chuckle at that. "No, no, you got me. We'll have to save cruising for later. I wish I could've gotten my sailboat here - but we can do that another time somewhere else."
We'll have to save cruising for later... Another time, somewhere else... My sailboat... why does he have to keep making plans and trying to impress me as if we have a future together? Or does he not realize what he's doing?
Why do I even care?
Talk about overthinking things.
The Loeb Boathouse terrace is striped tan and lined mahogany, but there's no one underneath it. No one but a tan, breezy man who tells us that of course we can have a boat.
So much for that last-ditch hope.
"That'll be $75," the man says.
I've almost gotten out my card when Landon hands his over to the man.
"Hey," I say.
"Hey," he says.
"I want to at least split," I say.
"Why? To underscore that this isn't a date?" He makes a face as he taps his card. "Fine, this isn't a date. Happy?"
"Not really, no," I say, although I put away my card.
By now, I know that there are some things you don't fight with Landon about.
He pats my shoulder. "Don't worry - a few minutes out on the lovely lake and you will be."
Turns out, it's not a few minutes - it's five - but yes, Landon was totally right.
Who couldn't be happy with the lake lapping its seaweed-scented breath against the sides of our boat, the rhythmic splash of Landon's paddling ("No," he said simply, with an irreverent smile, when I asked if I could help), the far-off cry of a seagull or two?
Who couldn't be happy with the passing Central Park views, all private and singular and communal all at once: the big-hatted Spanish woman with the fluffy white kitten in her arms, the two bathing-suit-clad blonde toddlers splashing each other in the pond. A family of ducks swimming past, heads at an erect, self-important angle.
Landon says nothing.
Who knows, maybe he gets it. That now is the kind of time, here is the kind of place that words only get bunched up around.
"There it is," Landon says softly after a few minutes, at my ear. "Caught ya, happy girl."
With the tips of his fingers, he traces the outlines of my lips. A shiver goes through me.
"What are you going to do about it?" I ask softly.
Hand under my chin, he turns my head to face his. "Take my payment."
A kiss follows next, is the only thing that could. His lips, my lips, our lips fuse into one. One outflowing. One perfection.
The water laps and a breeze sprays us with dandelion seeds.
Landon breaks away to sneeze, then laugh. Sneeze-laugh.
I laugh too. "Still allergic?"
He heaves a sigh. "Haven't got the dandelion vaccine yet."
And we laugh again, and, of course, it's so delightful - all of this - and him too - the man who made it all happen - it's so funny and wild and amazing, that we have to do the best expression of it, the celebration - our lips, his hands on my face, my hands against his chest.
Him, and him, and him.
Yes.
When he finally pulls away, there's something strained in the clench of his features. "My place?"
And just like that, the magic's lost.
"We've been here barely an hour," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. It's OK, not a big deal. "Unless you never intended to stay?"
"No." He swallows. "Just... got carried away. I was enjoying myself."
"I was too."
We eye each other like it was the other that betrayed us. Maybe I'm being oversensitive - probably. But everything was so perfect, and then he had to...
What? Want to spend more time with me?
No. Get to what I fear this was all about. Him and me, in bed. Even if we didn't work on paper, in real life, in bed, our bodies together, everything got sorted out. Easy. Wrong was made right.
What if all this was just a means to an end, a path to the only destination he cared about?
"Kyra," he's saying now.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean... Just, you know, I can't exactly tear off your clothes right here."
"I get it," I say.
"Do you? That when I'm with you I lose control?"
Something I could've said.
"What about this," he says. "I paddle you around some more - there's a cove I've heard good things about. Then, if you feel up to it, we can go for ice cream. Today can end there - if you want it to."
I can't help but smile. "You're really bringing your A game today."
