Marco slid from the car eagerly, his eyes fixed on the dark blue lake between the trees. Warm sunshine illuminated the park, bathing the entire area in light. He caught his breath at the fluorescence of the myriad leaves never having seen such pure green before. It appeared the entire world celebrated the warmth. Insects chirped around him, birds sang and children raced around playing ball or chasing each other. A young woman frolicked with a puppy and a group of senior citizens gossiped on fold-up chairs in the shade. He noticed her watching him from the corner of his eye and he grinned at her. 'It's very beautiful,' he told her honestly. 'Are the trees always this green?'

Rita laughed at him, unlocking the trunk. 'Only in the spring and summer, silly,' she said, handing him a plastic box. 'Take that. I'll get the rug.'

Marco followed her through the park and over to the edge of the water where she deposited the rug beneath a tree. 'Hope you don't mind sitting a little way from the crowd,' she said, tidying the edges.

'Not at all,' he assured her, laying the box down on the grass. The lake stretched before him as far as the horizon, the darkest blue he had ever seen, the surface waves shimmering in the sunshine.

'Lake Michigan,' she said, nodding her head at the water. 'My father brought us to play in this park real often. Once we came here after a wedding for some photos - I was a bridesmaid, and I managed to fall into the water and get soaked!' She smiled at the memory, pointing a little way back towards the crowd. 'Right over there,' she said.

He grinned at her in amusement, picturing her as a child. Judging by the way she had driven to the lake he could only assume she must have been a handful. The breath caught in his throat as she moved into the sunlight, bending down to open the lid of the cool box. Rich brown hair shone down her back as she shrugged it off her shoulders impatiently, withdrawing a few sandwiches. 'I bought these on the way,' she explained. 'I can make them myself too, of course, but mom was home…' A shadow spread across her face, quickly dispelled as she unwrapped them. 'You got a choice, ham and lettuce, cheese and tomato with pickles; chicken and salad…Take one.'

'You choose first,' he insisted, sitting in a patch of sunshine. 'Ladies first.'

Rita laughed, nodding her head. 'You remind me of my father,' she said, helping herself to the chicken salad. 'He believes women are fragile.'

'He's right,' Marco told her, taking the ham sandwich, telling himself to chew it slowly as though he had already eaten lunch.

Her eyes flashed as she swatted him on the arm. 'I'm NOT fragile. I could beat you easily,' she decided, looking him over. 'You wouldn't even fight back!'

He smiled gently, his heart warm. Fight back! God no. No, you'd defend her instead, Almeida, should anyone even attempt to lay a finger on her. 'I don't fight with girls,' he remarked, finishing the sandwich regretfully. 'Papa would've killed me if I tried laying a hand on one.'

Rita tossed him a second sandwich and handed him a can of coke. 'Was he strict?'

'A little,' he replied, sipping the drink. 'He tolerated pretty much anything from my sister, though.'

'Older or younger?' she asked, determined to discover everything about him.

'Two years older. I got three brothers as well, they're all older too.'

'So you're the youngest,' she said slowly. 'The spoilt one.'

Marco frowned, peeling a stalk of grass into two halves. 'Spoilt? No. It wasn't much fun being assigned the worst possible roles when we played. How about you?' He longed to hear all about her, wishing he had her confidence in asking questions.

'I got an older brother,' she told him, leaning comfortably against the tree. 'He's five years older and he works for the INS. He's got his own apartment, so it's just me at home.' She sighed heavily, reluctant to elaborate. He lacked the courage to question her further.

'It's quite warm today,' he said leaning comfortably against the cool box and feasting his eyes on the lake. 'I was getting worried…'

She laughed at him, happy again. 'It'll stay like this for a while, I promise. Winter won't start for another two months. You know, this place looks lovely covered in snow. There's a spot right there where I used to skate.'

He shivered, picturing the green lawn buried beneath a foot of snow, the icy wind from the lake scattering it in piles along the tree trunks. Noticing his inadvertent betrayal of his feelings she stared intently at him, a sudden intuition causing a giggle. 'You never saw snow, did you?'

Ashamed, he shook his head. 'No. Didn't miss it, either.' He stared at her defiantly, willing her to believe him.

'You don't know what you missed, Marco Almeida!' she cried in horror. 'You telling me you NEVER built a snowman? Never skated on a frozen pond? Never took a toboggan and rode it down a hill? Never had a snowball fight?'

'Never,' he agreed. 'What's the big deal, anyway? I rode my bike down some hills and I had a cart we made with a few wheels! And I had plenty of fights with mud balls by our very own dried out creek! At least it wasn't cold,' he concluded, an eye on her shaking shoulders.

'You're going to love it,' she assured him, shocked by her desire to hug him. Dammit. Why is he so extremely hot? she wondered again. You're going to have to exercise real self control to avoid grabbing him for a kiss!

Marco shook his head. 'I won't,' he replied firmly.

'You will,' she contradicted, throwing an uneaten crust at him. Lazily he flicked it back, his aim perfect. She stared at it startled, noticing it landed precisely in the spot she had tossed it from. 'Want to go for a walk?' she begged, grabbing his arm.

'At siesta time?' he grumbled, allowing her to pull him to his feet.

'Siesta time is over!' she said firmly, handing him the box. 'We'll put these things in the car and then I'll show you some paths.'

'I got to get back…' Marco began, his words lost in the breeze as she hastened across the lawn ahead of him. What the hell, Almeida. You're probably not going to get a tax file number today! Hurrying after her he deposited the box in the trunk. 'Which way shall we walk?'

'I always go that way,' she explained, nodding her head to the right. 'There's a lookout. Where's the rest of the bread?'

He opened the box, removing a few uneaten crusts. 'Are you hungry?'

'It's for the ducks of course,' she exclaimed, swatting his arm. 'Come on!'

'Yes ma'am,' he muttered in English, comparing her to his equally authoritative sergeant who also insisted on his own way. They'd do well together. Forget it Almeida, they'd probably kill each other! Rita needs a man like you, a follower who's good at taking orders! Amused, he trudged after her, moving off the path to allow a bicycle past. 'Is it far?'

'Not really,' she said, stopping to allow him to catch up. 'Just round that corner.' The sun shone on the water turning it silver at the shore. 'Are you coming?'

'Sí,' Marco agreed, in awe. 'There isn't much water at home,' he explained rejoining her. 'This is very beautiful. Kind of ironic, isn't it? We got the weather, you got the water!'

'What's that supposed to mean?' she asked, darting a glance at the sparkling dark eyes.

'It means the weather here is real bad, but you got plenty of water,' he explained, grabbing her arm suddenly to drag her from the path of a speeding cyclist. 'You okay?'

Rita's heart skipped a beat and a strange tingling sensation spread through her body. She was fine, better than okay, better than at any time in her entire life! Throwing caution to the wind she allowed herself to inch closer to him, resting her head against his side. 'Aha.'

Marco's stomach fluttered as she remained where she was, her body warm against his. Plagued by shyness his entire life he had failed to exchange more than a handful of words with any girls since early childhood, and now there he stood beside a lake from a story book with the world's loveliest girl in his arms. He blinked to check whether he was awake, amazed to discover he was. Rita Torres really was in his arms! For the first time he felt grateful for the previous year of national service. Wasted time it had been, that was unarguable, but without it he would never have met his new friend. Without conscious thought his arm slipped round her drawing her to his side in the manner of courting couples the world over.

Her heart skipped another beat as she felt herself drawn closer to Marco, able to feel the wiry strength of his muscles. Quiet and shy as he was, he was no weakling, she noted relieved. She swallowed, her legs turning to jelly.

'We should go, if you're going to show me the lookout,' he said softly, making no attempt to remove his arm from her waist.

Joyously she nodded, her arm tight about his waist, her pace slow. He likes you too, Rita, it's obvious! His eyes are sparkling, and those lips…She turned her head away in a hurry, walking beside him in silence. Time seemed to slow as they walked wrapped in each others' arms beside the shore, treasuring each second. Shutting her eyes briefly she imagined herself decked in a wedding gown beside him, his 'I do' clear for all to hear. All too soon they reached the jetty and she paused, tossing the bread to the group of ducks that surrounded them.

For the first time in his life he calculated his future income as an architect, wondering whether he would be able to support her in anything like the style she was accustomed to. He doubted it, aware he would be starting from zero, and that the chances of her waiting around for him to even find such a position were slim. Real shame her family is so rich, Almeida. You're never going to love anyone this much again…

They remained together, neither willing to take the first step away, breathing in each other's scent. Marco noted how perfectly she fit into his arms remembering his parents walking together in their few uninterrupted moments and he felt a pang of regret that the girl of his dreams would surely find another. Forcing his emotions aside he gazed at the water. 'I need to get back for my number,' he reminded her gently.

She nodded, remaining in his arms as they returned to the car. 'I come here a lot,' she said quietly, unlocking the door.

Marco nodded, climbing into the passenger seat. Say something, you idiot! She's obviously asking whether you'll walk with her again. 'It was fun,' he said staring ahead of him. 'There were so many things about Mexico I didn't have time to explain.' Great, Almeida, you really let her know you'd love to see her again!

Luckily she interpreted his feeble attempt at asking her for a second date, accepting with a warm smile that left his heart soaring. 'We'll come again tomorrow. There's another path you haven't seen yet. When are you free?'

'I only got one lecture in the morning,' he remembered, his heart pounding. 'There aren't any required tutorials this week.'

'Great, coz I got nothing all day,' she cried, cutting across two lanes without warning, her hand on the horn. 'I forgot we must turn left up there,' she explained as he clutched his seat in alarm. 'We haven't got the time to miss a turn. Your number will be called soon!'

He burst out laughing, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. 'We've missed it long ago,' he assured her glancing at the digital clock. 'It's four o'clock.'

'Don't worry about it,' Rita told him, overtaking a truck and rushing through an amber light. 'We'll make it!'

Marco shook his head, settling more comfortably against his seat. If he was destined to die young, he couldn't picture a better way than beside Rita Torres. 'We won't.'

'Look, relax, would you. I was born here, I know how to get things,' Rita told him, parking in a spot before the building labeled 'reserved.' 'Let's go.'

'That spot,' he began.

'We shan't be long,' she interrupted, hurrying ahead of him. He was forced to rush after her, passport in his pocket. The lobby was as crowded as before, the number I 875 flashing on a screen above them.

'I've missed it,' he said regretfully. What did you expect, Almeida? You were out picnicking with a gorgeous girl. The whole world won't stop for you!

'Relax,' Rita snapped, hurrying over to the nearest counter with the number summoned flashing above it, pushing aside a middle aged man. 'Sorry, I was here before,' she explained, showing the useless ticket. 'Just had to leave to buy something. You don't mind?' Before the man could open his mouth she leaned across the counter, beckoning to Marco. 'He just needs a tax number.'

Just like at home, Almeida. Beautiful girls get away with murder. They only have to smile at us and we let them walk all over us! He collected his new paperwork minutes later and hurried after her, sliding into his seat. 'Thanks.'

'Sure. You don't think I want to come back tomorrow? No, the path I'll show you is long. Did you like the sandwiches?' He nodded, and opened his mouth but she continued cheerfully. 'I'll bring the same kinds then, just a few more. Have you got a backpack to carry them in?'

'Sí.'

She dropped him at UIC after arranging to meet him in the same spot at 11:00 the following morning and drove home, cursing herself for her failure to discover where he needed to rush to by 7:30. It was definitely the first thing she would ask him the following day, casually. Something along the lines of an enquiry 'did you have a good time last night?' She was unable to stop humming as she drove home.

Marco climbed the stairs two at a time, his heart leaping. Filled with a never before experienced lightness he unlocked his door and collected an armful of clean clothes, the sight of Pale Eyes failing to dispel his joy. He turned the tap onto full heat and stood under it, his skin turning pink from the warmth, his mind on the picnic as he relived every sentence she'd uttered.

"The trouble with you, Almeida, is that you never listen," his sergeant had screamed, ordering him out of line. Guiltily he kept his eyes forward and listened to the outraged howls, agreeing with him. "It's true. He was explaining that maneuver all morning, and what were you doing? You were admiring that building behind him, imaging how much better it would look with a balcony over the entrance! Quit dreaming Almeida, or this guy will kill you!" For the first time since he had completed his national service he laid his head against the tiles and laughed till the tears poured from his eyes. You're wrong, sir. I DO listen if someone's got something interesting to tell me…He laughed harder, shoulders shaking. Somehow he doubted whether he would forget a single word Rita Torres ever uttered.

Washing hundreds of dishes proved hard, requiring his full concentration as they kept piling up regardless of the speed he cleaned them. The plates needed emptying before he piled them in a large sink of near boiling water allowing the washing up liquid to dislodge dried pieces of remains before he scrubbed them, rinsing them in a second sink of clear water. A heater blew warm air over them, drying them within seconds and a girl worked beside him, laying them onto a table in preparation for being returned to hungry customers. No stranger to KP, his head nevertheless spun at the rapid pace. Señor Perez peered in a few times, urging him to move it. Hands red and shriveled he grabbed a glass of icy water in his five minute break, returning to his growing pile the moment he finished. The worst part of the evening came once the restaurant closed and the final dishes had been washed and stacked. A dozen pots waited for him in a row, all requiring urgent scrubbing. Sweat trickled down his forehead burning his eyes as he worked as fast as he was able to coax his weary body to move, longing to get back to his room and curl into a ball and fall asleep dreaming of her. As he finished the pots he turned them upside down on the table to drip dry, reaching for the next one, risking a rapid glance to make certain the pile was shrinking. It was fully 2:00 in the morning before he finished and stumbled out to the bus stop, his head spinning.

Pale Eyes was asleep, snoring softly as he crept into his room. Having already showered he undressed and slid into bed in the darkness, falling asleep the moment his head touched the pillows.

Waking by 8:00 required superhuman effort. Rubbing his eyes he climbed out of bed and dressed, noting Pale Eyes slept undisturbed at the other end of the room. He made two sandwiches as quietly as possible and ate them beside his bed, creeping across to the bathroom to shave. Tim was up, his door open, the coffee maker bubbling in the background.

Marco drew a deep breath and knocked. 'Hi. That coffee smells great.' You can always tell me to get lost if you're busy.

'Grab a mug,' Tim called, inviting him in. 'You look out of it. What were you doing?'

'Walking round Lake Michigan and working half the night,' he muttered, sipping a scalding coffee. You don't know how much I needed that to wake up. Thanks, Tim.'

'Don't mention it. Look, why don't you just come and help yourself to a coffee every morning. I'm usually out by now, training with the guys.'

Marco thanked him and returned to his room to grab his things for his first lecture in architecture. Heart hammering with excitement he hurried over to the College of Art and Architeture, unable to believe he was finally beginning his life's passion. Please let the lecturer speak clearly.

He was fortunate. The lecturer spoke slowly and clearly, gave the class plenty of handouts with his notes, and drew several diagrams on the board which he gave them sufficient time to copy. Filled with relief Marco left the lecture and returned his books to his room where he fully intended to scrutinize his notes and make certain he remembered every single word. His plans were thwarted by the presence of Pale Eyes together with two friends, one of whom nodded in his direction while the other two studiously avoided his gaze. Forcing his sigh aside he settled on his bed and opened his notes, unable to concentrate due to the loud discussion of the others.

'You should use the library,' Pale Eyes told him unsympathetically as he attempted to turn away.

He was relieved that Rita provided sandwiches for lunch as he would have been too embarrassed to withdraw his bread and honey in front of the crowd. Seeing her beside her car his frustration evaporated and he was unable to hide the grin that stretched across his face. 'Hi.'