He hadn't really noticed her at first; after all, he was young, a playboy, blind.
Until he glanced up one night and found her smiling her gap-toothed grin at him.
He'd gone after her ever since that night.
The night when his stomach flipped.
When he had felt his face burn as he stuttered out incomprehensible phrases.
When he'd fallen.
-
They'd shake their heads at him; an Ice Queen falling for a… Who was he kidding?
They'd tell him it was an infatuation, puppy love; he'd move on to someone prettier, better, no problem.
They'd laugh when he told them how his breath caught, his knees weakened, his heart thudded so hard, so hard against his ribcage every time he saw her.
Every time.
-
When she finally cashed in that rain check of hers, he'd dropped the evidence bag she had just handed him out of shock.
She had laughed, bent down to pick up the bag and placed it on his counter. Then with a smile and a wave, she'd flitted out the door.
As he watched her go, his heart ached a little less.
They were getting somewhere.
-
She chose the place: a little park full of weathered mahogany benches and pebble paths, near the jetty.
They were going biking.
He could cycle well. Great, in fact.
He just didn't tell her.
Which was why they got a double bike: new, sleek and red.
She sat in front, and whenever he glanced down, he would immediately blush, lose control of the pedals and fall off the bicycle.
And she'd stop, calling him a 'schlep', reaching out her hand and helping him up.
He liked feeling little jolts of electricity up his arm when they touched.
Which was probably why he fell down.
Eight times.
-
Eventually, they got tired and stopped at the jetty to rest.
They bought fried prawns from a little old Asian vendor and sat on a bench to eat.
For a while, they just sat there in compatible silence.
Streetlights flickered to life above them as the waves lapped against the stone. A seagull glided above them, calling out to the night.
A salty sea breeze whirled around them, muffling the triumphant cries of a nearby fisherman and whatnot.
He glanced down at her, crumpling his empty prawn bag.
She tilted her head up at him, wind playing with her hair.
For a moment, all was silent and still; the seagull had vanished, along with the insistent tides.
For a second, she looked at him —really looked at him— and finally saw what she had moved to Vegas for, wanted, chased after, for so long.
For a fraction, all was bathed in a warm orange glow.
-
He woke up first.
The invisible tide was low now; the vendor where he had bought their food had closed shop, her little cart looking lost and lonely.
She was still asleep, her head on his shoulder.
He glanced down and smiled.
Their hands were intertwined, two tanned, callused hands cradling two smaller, fairer versions.
He would keep her from falling.
And she, him.
-
It had taken a while for them to explain why they were so late in returning their bicycle to the irritable shop owner.
So when he got home, he went straight to his bedroom and jumped into bed.
As he lay there in the dark, thinking about the evening, his cell beeped.
--NEW TEXT MESSAGE--
THANKS FOR THE WONDERFUL TIME TONIGHT.
SARA
P/S
YOU LEFT YOUR WALLET IN MY CAR.
-
He liked falling, he guessed.
Falling off a bike.
Falling asleep.
Falling in love.