Flipside
Her hair shimmers in the light and it reflects into my eyes. I start to fidget in my chair, I'm nervous. I don't know why, it's not as if we haven't done this before, it's just dinner after all! But it's not anymore; it's not 'just dinner', not since the email. This is our first date. I reach my hand out across the cool, crisp white cotton tablecloth; she takes the hint and places her hand in mine. I squeeze it lightly and I can feel that it's warm and clammy…she's nervous too.
We both have taken the chance, we've placed out bets, taken the gamble and the dice are still rolling. It is a big risk, not just because of today's political climate, but also because of our friendship. We both rely on each other too much to not make this work. But we are sensible people, rarely governed by our emotions; it's not the military way. We've decided to see where this was heading before we involved Cassie; new relationships are hard enough without that kind of extra pressure. But as I sit here studying the delicate features on her face, I know it's worth it…she's worth it.
The world, and everyone else in it gradually fade away until only we remain. The moonlight is still dancing in her hair and the candlelight glimmers in her eyes. She looks amazing. If I had ever seen her look like that before, I never would have hesitated and I sure as Hell wouldn't have even considered "no" as a possible answer.
The waiter arrives with the food and our hands fall apart and retake their positions on our respective sides of the table. We sit here in a secluded corner of the quiet restaurant on the outskirts of town, chosen as one of the least likely places to be spotted, stealing glances at each other as we slowly devour our meals. There's a different feel to our outing this evening, an intense undercurrent that was never there before, or at least I never noticed it before. Maybe it had always been there, either way it doesn't matter now. The only thing that does matter is the way she makes me feel, and right now, that's alive.
Our date is drawing to a close; now it's starting to become awkward, well…sort of. I can see she is feeling it too; does she walk me to my door? Do we hold hands on the walk up the path? Does she follow me in and continue the evening over some coffee and liquor? The answer is of course yes to all these questions. And as I step over the threshold of my house, her hand wrapped securely in mine, I silently thank her once again for sending that email.
