Chapter 2 #2
Was it weird that I thought I could listen to her talk all day?
I’d only have to say the occasional answer or nod my head, and she’d do the rest. She was like a butterfly who kept fluttering around from thing to thing, from sentence to sentence, her hands constantly moving when she talked, and I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off her.
“And where would you travel to?” I asked, with yet another small smile on my face. I’d smiled more with her in the last half hour than I had with anyone else.
She clapped her hands in front of her and held them to her chest. “Oh, my gosh, everywhere.”
I might have only just met her, but I wasn’t surprised by her answer.
“First, I would go to Paris.” She splayed her hands out in front of her like she was imagining a map being laid out for us to look at. “Then, I’d go…” she continued.
And on and on she went, talking about all the places she wanted to go and all the things she wanted to see, and I loved listening to every second of it.
When we were finally seated, she lifted her camera bag from around her neck and set it next to her. “And that’s just where I’d go the first year.”
I chuckled at this. Of course she was only talking about the first year. “That’s a lot of places to go in one year.”
“Yeah, but when you take out travel time, it’s totally doable.” She waved me off. “And just thinking about all the photographs I could take makes me want to go even more.” She took off her green coat, revealing a bright pink-and-blue-patterned sweater underneath.
“Are you a photographer?” I wondered if she’d been willing to risk life and limb to get a particular photo at the hotel. “Is that why you were taking pictures at the Plaza?”
“Ah, ah, ah,” she wagged a finger at me. “No questions about what we might do for a living. Remember?”
I held up my hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry.”
She only smiled at me and then turned her attention to the menu. We both took time to decide what we wanted, and when the waiter arrived, we placed our order.
“It’s your turn to ask me a question now,” she said, leaning on the table and interlocking her fingers.
I rubbed a hand across the stubble on my chin. I wasn’t very good at small talk, especially when I couldn’t ask the easy questions, like “What do you do for work?” or “Where are you from?”
When my brain kept coming up blank on something I could ask her, I finally said, “Are you a morning person or a night owl?” As soon as the question was out, I knew it was lame. It wasn’t even a ‘what if’ question. I wanted to smack myself on the forehead.
Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice or care.
“Oh, definitely a morning person,” she answered immediately. “It always feels good to start a new day.” She reached for the glass of water the waiter had dropped off. “What about you?”
“I would say I’m a morning person too.” I fiddled with the silverware on the table. “I like to get up and get going with my day.”
Even our questions showed how different we were.
She was talking about superpowers and traveling.
I was talking about sleep habits. Not that it mattered how different we were.
After our linner, I’d never see this woman again.
But meeting her today and spending time together had me wondering if I was as content with my life as I thought I was.
I had been dealt certain cards and had never felt like I could really change them.
My childhood and past had made me who I was, and I had never entertained the thought of being any different.
But the longer I was with Belle, the more I began to wonder if there was a possibility of letting myself hope for something else.
What else, I wasn’t sure, but she had me wanting to find out.
Which was crazy. Her exuberance and energy were contagious.
It almost felt tangible, like maybe I could grab onto it and be as happy as her.
Okay, yeah, I was definitely going crazy. Maybe the hit I’d taken last night on the ice had been harder than I’d thought.
I reached for my glass, taking a drink of the cold water, hoping it would drown out my thoughts.
“What if,” she said, sitting up straight like she was already excited to hear my answer, “you could be a professional athlete or be good enough at a sport to make it to the Olympics, what would it be?”
I almost spit out my water, coughing and sputtering as I tried to get it down.
Her eyes widened in concern. “Oh, my gosh, are you okay?”
I coughed into my hand a few times before I could answer. “Uh, yes. I’m fine.” I hit a fist against my chest. “A sport, huh?”
She looked relaxed now as she nodded since I was no longer choking.
“I, uh…” I scratched the back of my neck, shifting in my seat. How was I supposed to answer that? I hadn’t really ever played any other sports. In truth, hockey was the superior sport, and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. My mind raced, grasping for something—anything—to say.
I was a good skater—more than good, actually. And figure skating was big during the Olympics, right? I bet I could do that.
“I would do figure skating,” I finally blurted out.
Her brows shot up so high, they almost reached her hairline. “Figure skating?” she echoed, tilting her head as if trying to picture it. “But you’re huge. I can’t imagine you dancing on ice. Maybe playing hockey, but definitely not figure skating.”
Was it warm in here? I tugged at the neckline of my shirt, suddenly feeling like all the air had been sucked from the room. My stealth skills were severely lacking.
“What would you do?” I hurried to ask, hoping to shift the focus away from me.
Her face brightened as she leaned forward. “I would choose to be a football player if I was going to be a professional athlete, and as for the Olympics, swimming for sure.” She didn’t even hesitate with her answer.
Was she always this sure of herself? I felt like I was always second-guessing everything, outside of hockey.
“Football?” I repeated, unable to stop my nose from scrunching in obvious disapproval. Why America was so fascinated by football and not hockey was beyond me.
She caught the expression immediately, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at me. “What’s wrong with football?”
Shoot. As a “non-hockey player,” I shouldn’t have had such a strong reaction.
“Uh, nothing. I just didn’t expect you to say football,” I said quickly, forcing a casual shrug.
“It’s just a wish, a fantasy.” She waved a hand in the air, then grinned. “And in my fantasy, I’m an amazing wide receiver.”
Picturing her in football pads had me smiling at her answer. Of course she wanted to play football. Why not?
“Did you choose figure skating because you actually can figure skate?” she asked, tilting her head with curiosity.
“No, but I did pick it because I can skate.”
She laughed, a light, airy sound that made my chest feel strangely tight. “You’re so literal.” Then she let out a sigh, leaning back. “Which is probably better than being like me. I always have my head in the clouds.”
I was about to ask her what she meant by that when our food was placed in front of us, effectively disrupting our conversation.
“Ooh, I have another question,” she said excitedly as she picked up her fork.
I had a hunch she never ran out of things to talk about, and I found it was already becoming one of my favorite things about her. If you could have favorite things about someone you just met.
And so, for the rest of our meal we continued to ask questions, getting to know each other in a different way than I had ever done before. Her questions and easygoing personality helped me loosen up so I didn’t feel so rigid.
When we’d finished eating, we gathered our coats, standing as she put her camera bag across her body.
“Thank you for the food and for introducing me to linner,” I said with a smile.
“I’m glad you now know the greatness of a good linner,” she smiled back. “And thank you again for saving me.”
“Glad I was in the right place at the right time.”
I didn’t hear Belle’s reply as movement from behind her caught my eye.
Two men at the bar were whispering and pointing at me.
They must have been wondering if I was really Holden Prescott, and for some reason I still didn’t want Belle to know who I was.
We’d had an amazing time together, and I wanted it to remain exactly this way in my memory.
Just two strangers who had randomly met and enjoyed a meal together.
I searched the restaurant for a way to hide or escape. Christmas decorations dripped from every available surface, and when my eyes landed on some nearby mistletoe hanging from an archway, I took the chance without another thought.
Grabbing Belle by the arm I tugged her the few feet we needed to be directly under the mistletoe. They wouldn’t interrupt me if I was in the middle of kissing a woman, right?
Belle looked surprised by my sudden movements. I glanced up at the mistletoe, her gaze following mine. When her eyes returned to mine, they widened. That was the only warning I gave her before pulling her body close and pressing my mouth against hers.
Her body froze in my arms but quickly loosened as her arms crept around my neck, her lips catching up to mine.
I had meant for the kiss to be brief, a way to keep some possible fans from being able to identify me or—worse—come over to meet me.
But as soon as my lips had touched Belle’s, all thoughts of anyone else disappeared.
She was warm and soft, and I wondered if I’d ever experienced a kiss quite like this before as our mouths melded together in a perfect fit.
The longer we kissed, the more I knew the answer was definitely no.
Even with our coats on, the heat between us seemed to burn through me. My hand snaked up her back, finally reaching the strands of her silky hair before landing on the side of her neck.
A rational part of my brain was telling me to stop or at least slow things down, that I was kissing a woman I had met mere hours ago and to whom I hadn’t given a fair chance to say no or stop me from kissing her.
But if the way she was responding was any indication of how much she was enjoying herself, I assumed she was enjoying and wanting this kiss as much as I was.
But still, we were in a public restaurant.
Her hand slid into my hair, which had me almost losing focus again. But no, I needed to stop. We were strangers—strangers who would never see each other again. It wouldn’t be right to keep this kiss going on any longer. Plus, I was sure management would be kicking us out soon if we didn’t stop.
I broke the kiss, staring down at her. The look on her face seemed to be one of bewilderment and shock. I didn’t have time to figure out exactly how she was feeling, for fear of either kissing her again or from her wanting more from me than I could give.
I lightly caressed my thumb along her jaw, memorizing her and this moment. “Goodbye, Belle.”
And with that, I took a step back before turning and walking out of the restaurant.