I attempted to set this entire scene (except for the last) up as seen from the viewfinder of a video camera. I hope this isn't too awkward, but I wanted the reader to imagine that he/she was watching this play as seen on a television. I also show the occasional thoughts of the character wielding the camera, and there is a place where a third party is filming the action for them. I'd be very interested in your opinions about how this turned out. Was it too awkward to follow? Was it an interesting viewpoint?
THE FIRST DATE
The shaking image of a man's hand tugging at a woman's hand appears; breathless laughter in the background. He is obviously leading her somewhere.
"Come on! I've got something to show you," Dick's voice is heard saying.
The camera moves to focus on his face as he looks back over his shoulder. He is grinning broadly. His eyes are shining with life and humor . . . and something else.
"Are we late? Why are we running?" Elle's voice confirms her as the cameraman.
"Not late," Dick tells her. "It's a great day to be alive! It makes me feel like running . . . Doesn't it you?"
Muffled laughter is his immediate answer. "Of course," she says, her voice bobbing in time with her steps. "I'll follow you anywhere . . . As long as it isn't much farther. After that, you will have to carry me."
"It's just ahead," he tells her. "We're almost there."
The camera flashes ahead, past Dick's shoulder. There is a field of grass that leads down the hill to a lake surrounded by a wooded area. One can see numerous short piers. The picture suddenly veers, however, as Dick spins back suddenly. The viewer might believe that Elle is about to barrel into him when the image swings abruptly skyward. Elle yelps in surprise.
The jiggling picture struggles to focus, and strands of short, dark hair and a wildly jouncing landscape come into view. The feminine laughter is louder now and punctuated with shrieks. The picture slowly moves until it lights upon Dick's face; very close-up and angled up from somewhere below his jawline. He's looking past the camera at Elle.
"How's this? Any better," he asks. His eyes shimmer with happiness, and that something else, so hard to define, is even more obvious to the observant viewer.
"My hero! . . . Um, you aren't seriously going to carry me the rest of the way, are you," Elle asks in reply.
"It's not so far," he assures her.
"Far enough!" Elle's voice grows concerned. "Put me down, Dick. I'm too heavy."
"Nonsense! You are as light as a feather," he insists. His grin fades to one of mock seriousness. "But, any farther and you would have to walk."
The camera angle changes again as Dick begins to run with her in his arms. Elle's squeals and hysterical laughter chime out as the landscape bounces wildly for several minutes. There is a feeling of vertigo for the viewer as Elle is set back on her feet. She brings the picture back around to find Dick, in a tan, cable-knit sweater and dark blue jeans, stretching his back muscles dramatically as he groans.
"Whew! You really did me in," he complains.
Elle gasps. Concern colors her voice. "I told you not to carry me! Are you . . . Oh! You faker! You aren't even breathing hard!"
Dick laughs and turns her and the camera toward an older building with green peeling paint with white trim that is nestled in the trees near the lake's edge.
"You must be in amazing shape," she observes as she continues filming. "So, where are we? Oh, boat rentals," she exclaims, enthusiastically. The camera pans to the business sign. "How fun!"
Dick passes through the picture as he steps up to the cheap, laminate counter to do business with the grizzled, old fellow manning the place. Elle sweeps the camera back to the lake. There are several redwood-stained piers jutting out over the water's edge. Each pier contained a different style of boat; row boats, an array of colorful paddle boats, and a stack of aluminum canoes.
"Ooh, can we do a canoe? Please?" Elle begged.
Dick's voice floats from behind her. "You heard the lady . . . A canoe, it is!"
Elle squeals happily. "Yes! Best. Date. Ever!"
Dick laughs at her reaction as he juggles a couple of oars and two orange life vests. He takes the camera as he hands Elle her vest. Immediately the camera turns on Elle. She looks beautiful with her long, dark hair loose about her shoulders, and her cheeks pink from her earlier exertion. She is wearing a bright blue, flannel shirt over a bit of lacy, cream camisole, and snug black jeans; comfortable wear for a day at the park in early October. Dick couldn't help being pleased that she showed up for their date wearing his colors, even if it had been entirely unintentional.
"I thought you told me this was your first date ever."
"It is," she agreed. "But it has to be the best because, seriously, I don't think you can top this. I mean hiking, a picnic, and canoes? I am at the pinnacle!"
As they start walking towards the lake, the camera dips down to check out how well Elle's swaying hips fill out her jeans. As if she knows what he is doing, she glances back over her shoulder. The picture jerks up to her face. He'd been caught! Guilty as charged. Dick clears his throat as Elle smirks at him, raising her eyebrow knowingly.
"What," Dick asks in mock innocence and she laughs at him, non-offended.
Walking sideways, she holds up the dingy, orange vest between two fingers. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"It's a life vest, Elle. You're supposed to wear it while out on the lake."
She makes a face, scowling at the vest as if it is infested with vermin. "I don't think so."
"It's meant to keep you safe from drowning."
She shakes her head sadly. "No way, Dick. I worked hard to look this good and I smell fantastic. I am not putting this orange . . . thing on and ruining it. It smells like fish and mildew."
He did a close-up on her face. There was the barest trace of makeup highlighting her amazing eyes, otherwise her beauty was untouched. "I'll vouch for that. You do smell rather amazing . . ." he whispered to the camera.
Normally, such complaints from his date would annoy him, but it was obvious, even to the camera, that her comments were meant to be teasing. He wondered why something that would bother him in other women, even Babs or Kori, on Elle, was utterly adorable and even enchanting.
It must be her attitude, he decided. She was just so happy . . . and sweet; so full of the joy of life. There didn't appear to be a conceited bone in her body. He knew because he had looked! No, despite her words, he knew she wasn't angry, but rather determined to have her own way.
"I think it is a rule, Elle, for insurance purposes," he explained patiently.
She sighed. "I wonder if they have water wings instead."
"Water wings?"
"You know. Those inflatable cuffs you slide up your arms."
Laughter was in his voice as he answered. "I believe those are for children, Elle."
Through the viewfinder, Dick could see the wheels of her mind turning right there on her face. He was suddenly curious. Her mind, he was quickly discovering, worked in fascinating, if unusual ways. She winked at him, and skipped ahead.
Although he continued on at a normal pace, he kept the camera focused on her as she made her way to the young guy manning the pier. She was speaking to him earnestly, but was too far away for Dick or the camera's microphone to pick up what she was saying. The man was shaking his head at her over and over. Dick had told her that she would have to wear the vest if she wanted to go out on the lake.
So, Dick was audibly surprised when the man suddenly nodded and took the offensive vest from her fingers. "What the . . .? How did she . . .?"
By the time he arrived, the man was handing her into the canoe. She was beaming up at him sans one stinky, orange vest. The man offered a hand for Dick's vest as well. Being a good swimmer, he shrugged, giving the the pier guy his vest as well. After all, he thought he smelled rather good himself.
A few minutes later, they were paddling several yards out, following the shoreline. The camera sat on the bench between them, its picture focused on Elle's back.
"So, are you going to tell me how you managed to get that guy to allow us to take a canoe out without a vest," Dick finally asked after a few moments.
"Oh, that . . .," she sounded mildly amused. "I simply explained to him that Aquaman is my cousin."
Although the camera was pointing away from him, one could practically hear Dick gaping at her back in his voice.
"Aquaman is y-your . . . You lied," he stammered. He didn't know why he felt so disappointed. It was the height of hypocrisy, considering his own need to lie in order to cover up his nightly pursuits. "And pier guy fell for it?"
"Hmm," she said, tilting her head thoughtfully. "I don't really know that it's a lie exactly . . ."
"Wha-at?"
"Well, I'm fairly certain that a merman is my great-grandfather. But whether or not he was somehow related to Aquaman is rather up in the air . . ." Elle turned halfway in her seat to look earnestly at him. "But he could have been, I suppose."
"How . . .? You are pulling my leg!" Dick accused.
Elle smiled serenely at him. "It's a family legend," she announced. At what must have been his patent disbelief, she turned in her seat, setting her oar across the top of the canoe. "Seriously."
Sighing, she leaned back against the bow, and dipped her fingers lazily in the water. Sounds of Dick's paddle still plying gently could be heard along with crickets, frogs, and buzzing insects. A dragonfly zipped up to hover in front of Elle's face, and the two of them silently contemplated the other for a few seconds before the insect moved off in a different direction.
She wasn't looking at the camera when Elle finally spoke, but off to the side watching nature as it slid by them.
"My great-grandparents, on my mother's side, were on a cruise off of the coast of Spain during their honeymoon. There was a terrible storm, and the ship went down in the night. My great-grandmother was the only survivor, floating alone on the vast ocean in a small raft. She had no supplies, and there was no land in sight . . .
"After two days, she was contemplating throwing herself into the sea to join her ill-fated husband and end her suffering, when a man swam up to her life raft. She looked, but couldn't see the vessel from which he must have come. He appeared very strong and healthy, and my great-grandmother insisted that he was extremely handsome.
"He told her that he could get her to land where she could be rescued, but for a price. My great-grandmother agreed. It was unclear whether he pulled or pushed or rowed the boat, but by evening, he was pulling the raft onto the beach of a small island. There was fresh water nearby and fruit, which he gathered and used to refresh my great-grandmother. Afterward, once she had regained most of her strength, she paid him for saving her.
"He told her then to walk along the shore, and she would eventually find a small fishing community where she could get help. He then plunged back into the surf and disappeared. My great-grandmother followed his instructions, and was soon rescued by a fisherman's family. Within a few weeks, she managed to make her way back home to Italy."
"So, what was the price he required for the rescue," Dick asked hesitantly.
Elle smiled dreamily as she looked out over the lake. "My grandmother was born nine months later."
Silence reigned.
Elle's smile broadened when her eyes finally met Dick's.
"It's a family legend," she shrugged, picking up her oar and turning about.
The camera moved as Dick picked it up silently, turning it in his hand until his face filled the view. The face he made was a comical combination of shocked awe and patent disbelief. He closed his eyes, shaking his head and grinning. While he might not believe such a tale, it was clear that it had amused him. And it was a good story . . . and, truthfully, a rather terrific family legend.
He set the camera back on the seat in front of him, facing Elle.
"You know," she called back over her shoulder a short while later. "I've never been in a canoe before."
"Really? What about other types of boats?"
"Oh, sure," she told him. "My father has a home on the shore of Lake Michigan. He owns several types of boats. There is a yacht, a speedboat, and my favorite, a beautiful, hand-carved wooden sailboat."
"So you came from a wealthy family?" Dick was surprised. Elle didn't act like any high-society debutante he had ever met. She seemed, instead, to be very down-to-earth.
"Oh, most of my family is wealthy," came her reply. "My father and brother both are."
Curious . . . "You don't include yourself?"
Her voice, melodic in speech, floated back conversationally. "I have lived a wealthy lifestyle, sure, but I don't consider what my father has earned as mine. I've been given much simply by 'right of birth', but none of it have I earned on my own."
That was an interesting attitude to have, he thought. It was very close to his own, in fact. Dick tried hard to make it on his own, eschewing asking Bruce for anything. It still annoyed his adopted father, he was sure, but also felt that it earned him Bruce's respect; something which Dick valued far above money or things.
"I only recently persuaded my father to allow me to attempt to earn my own way. He's not convinced that I will be successful, and would have preferred that I remain safely ensconced in the family home; protected and pampered until he found me a suitable keeper . . ." Her voice sounded irritated. "Oh, sorry. I meant 'husband'."
Yep, she was definitely irritated. Dick frowned. Her father sounded archaic.
"Poppa is . . .," she sighed. "Old-fashioned."
"I curious," he said. "How did you manage to persuade him?"
The irritation fled as she explained. "Oh, it wasn't pretty. I had to go against my principles and accept what amounts to, in my opinion, as charity. But he gave me two years in which to prove myself."
Dick heard an ". . . Or what?"
"Well, either I am successful enough to remain on my own, or I'll likely be herded by obedient, albeit well-meaning, bodyguards to await the anointing of the 'chosen one'."
"Chosen one?"
Elle snorted. It was a surprisingly delicate sound, he thought with a twist of his lips. "The Husband," she clarified.
Dick found he was indignant on her behalf. "You do realize that as an adult, you cannot be forced to do anything or go anywhere against your will?"
She laughed that joy-filled laugh he could listen to all day. "You are so cute, if a little naïve."
It had been many years since he had last been called naïve. "I'm serious here, Elle. Your father cannot force you to go home if you don't want to go. It would amount to kidnapping should he try."
She waved a negligent hand at him, speaking good-naturedly despite the disturbing topic. "Since I fully intend to succeed, I would suppose that that option would be moot."
Elle swiveled around in her seat, setting her paddle astride the sides of the canoe. She pinned him with a look before she turned the camera on him. Then she leaned back against the bow of the boat.
"Enough about me," she declared. "I'm totally boring. It is your turn now. Tell me about your own family. How weird are they?"
Dick burst out laughing. "Oh, you have no idea . . ."
"They sound fabulous already!"
Dick set his paddle across his lap, and rubbed his neck. "Where to start . . .?"
"At the beginning," she suggested.
"My parents were aerialist acrobats for a circus. I was born there . . ."
Elle gasped. "Seriously?"
Obviously amused by her reaction, Dick nodded. "Seriously."
"Were you an acrobat, too? Did you perform," she asked, excitedly.
Dick grinned. "Actually, yeah, I did. At the time, I was one of the youngest aerialists in the world."
"Oh, my God, that is perhaps one of the coolest things I have ever heard!" There followed a brief scrambling in which the canoe swayed precariously as Elle picked up the camera and sat down in the middle seat.
There was a splash, and the camera swings around to focus on Elle's oar now floating in the water.
"Oh, shoot," she mutters, thrusting the camera at Dick. The canoe rocks as she leans over in an attempt to retrieve it.
Despite the rewarding view of her backside, Dick rescues her from tumbling headlong into the water, and passes the camera back to her.
"Easy," he laughed. "Hold on. I'll get it for you."
A couple of strokes of his oar brought him closer. Dick used his own oar to bring Elle's near enough that he could safely pluck it out of the water. He lay both oars across the canoe's edges.
"I would have thought that you would be more . . . oh, I don't know, sea-worthy? You know, being Aquaman's cousin, and all." He opined with an almost straight face.
Elle's gasped in mock outrage. "Oh! No, you did not just go there!"
Dick laughed outright. Elle's laughter quickly followed.
"So, are your parents still with the circus? What did they say about you wanting to leave," she asked. "Were they upset with you?"
Dick sobered. Discomfort crossed his features as he took a turn admiring nature. It was obvious, even to the camera, that he wasn't seeing the beauty surrounding him.
"Dick?" Elle's voice was soft now, hesitant. "Did I say something wrong?"
He sighed, casting her a sad smile. "No," he said. "My parents were killed when their trapeze wires broke." Keep it simple, he thought. No details.
Her breath caught. "Oh, my God! Oh no! Dick, I'm so sorry. I didn't know!" There were tears in her voice as she spoke, and the camera wobbled just a bit.
He looked surprised at her extreme reaction. "Hey, it's okay. It was hard at the time, but it was . . . years ago." Although there were times when it still felt like yesterday; when the pain was still as sharp and as strong as it had been at the time.
"H-how old were you," she asked, her voice soft and small.
He blew out a breath. "I was eight."
A sob shook the picture. "Eight? But, y-you were just a little boy!"
The picture swung out of focus as Dick pulled her carefully into his arms for a hug. The camera buzzed as it fought to find an image for a minute. Elle's sniffles could be heard over the sound of the oars bumping and birdsong.
"You are taking this far harder than I am," Dick spoke gently.
"I'm sorry," came Elle's watery laugh. Dick came back into focus as Elle sat back on her seat. "I understand, though, the loss of a parent," she admitted, reluctantly.
Dick frowned, tilting his head in inquiry, but kept silent.
"I, um, I lost my mother just after my seventh birthday," she whispered.
Dick's expression changed immediately to one of sympathy, and he reached for one of her hands.
"It was a car . . . accident," she admitted, not wanting to go into details either.
"I'm sorry," he said, simply.
Elle drew in a deep breath, and laughed. "This is not how this day was supposed to go."
Dick smiled. "You are absolutely right about that," he agreed.
"I've been having a great time so far. I suggest we change the topic to a happier one," she announced, handing him back the camera and snatching up her oar.
It was tricky, making her way back to the front of the canoe without taking a header into the lake or losing her oar again, but she eventually settled back onto the bench. Dick was grinning behind the camera, enjoying the show. He sat the camera back on the bench, and picked up his own oar as she began to paddle once more.
They spent another pleasant hour talking about favorite music, movies, books, and restaurants. She discovered that he loved seafood, but she did not; preferring land mammals to munch on. They enjoyed similar tastes in music, which was eclectic to say the least. Dick was pleased to find that she loved action/adventure movies. And on it went until they were pulling up once more to the pier.
He couldn't remember ever feeling this relaxed and lighthearted in anyone's company, even Babs . . . and part of him felt a flash of guilt over that. He had loved Barbara enough to marry her, and a tiny portion of him felt as though he were betraying that love by enjoying another woman's company above hers. But with Elle, he actually felt peaceful . . . happy. She could make even the most mundane topics seem humorous, and he didn't doubt for a minute that even a subject like laundry would make for a fascinating discussion as long as he held it with her.
After the pier guy tied up the canoe, Dick handed him the camera. "Hold this for me, will you" he asked.
"It's still filming," Elle instructed, "so could you keep it trained on the action, please?"
If the pier guy looked a little uncomfortable as he took the proffered camera, he was still careful to follow Elle's orders. "Uh, sure," he agreed, obediently turning the camera back on the couple.
Dick slid both oars onto the dock, and deftly hauled himself up the three feet to the dock's surface; ignoring the ladder in place to help folks up. He turned to watch Elle clamber over the canoe's middle seat. He carefully kept his grin in check. The grace she exhibited on stage was nowhere in evidence now. The boat wobbled ominously. He moved closer in order to help steady her as she reached for the ladder. Events happened lightening fast after that.
Elle stepped onto the seat in order to give herself a boost up. Unbalanced, the canoe dipped and flipped. Before he could think of what he should do, instinct and reflexes kicked in, and Dick grabbed the first thing he could reach. Suddenly, Elle was dangling several feet above the dark water of the lake; held suspended only by Dick's fist clutching her shirt. Elle gaped at him, blinking owlishly; her hands clutching his wrist.
"Wow," She gushed, breaking into a huge grin. "That was amazing! You have the most incredible reflexes . . ."
Dick cringed, as other reflexes he had developed to protect his Nightwing identity kicked to the fore, followed by a large . . .
SPLASH!
Oh shit, he thought, gasping. I just freaking dropped her! What the hell . . .?
Elle's head broke the surface, her dark hair plastered to her skull and covering half of her face.
Gasp! "You . . . you!" She slid beneath the surface again, only to come up coughing. "You dropped . . . cough!" She dipped below the surface once more.
Dick kneeled down, reaching a hand out for her to grab when she came back up for air. As he waited, the ripples in the water began to smooth. His eyes widened as he searched the murky depths for any sign of her.
"Elle," he yelled. "Oh, my God! Where is she? Do you see her?"
The pier guy was just as stunned apparently as Dick. The camera's angle shifted only slightly as the man holding it moved closer to the edge of the dock to help search the lake water. "I don't see her. I don't get it," he wailed. "She said she was Aquaman's cousin! I thought she could swim, you know?"
How long had she been under?
Dick jumped to his feet, kicking off his shoes, and dived into the water. He was under for several long seconds before resurfacing. His eyes searched the area under the pier in the hopes that she had come up under there, but there was no sign of her. He dived beneath the water again, his feet kicking hard to push him down further into its depths. He couldn't see more than a few inches in front of his face, and the deeper he dived, the darker it became. His hands flailed about in a desperate effort to find her, grab her, and drag her back to the surface and life-giving air. He wasn't sure how long he'd been under, but it wasn't until his lungs began burning that he allowed himself to surface long enough to catch his breath.
"Elle," he gasped. Panic was making his limbs heavy. No! He couldn't give in to panic! Elle would die if he couldn't find her within the next couple of minutes!
Dick pushed that thought aside violently. He had just discovered her! Both his heart and his head told him that she was something special. He couldn't lose her yet! In the heat of the moment, it didn't occur to him that that particular feeling, that those particular thoughts, were coming far too soon based upon an acquaintance of just a few, short days. Desperately, he dived again.
His hand found the bottom; mud stirring up to diminish his vision even more. He felt his way around the reeds; found the posts to the pier above him; found the bottom of the canoe they had just exited. He found a can; a sign; for one heartwrenching second, he had exulted in the discovery of an old shoe. Just not Elle! Not a touch of clothing; not a hand or a foot; not even a wisp of her hair . . .
She was just . . . gone!
The video picture wobbled as it witnessed the boyfriend's frantic search. He was under so long himself that to an observer, such as the one currently filming, one began to worry that both members of the couple were in danger of drowning.
Water sloshing, bird cries, and the harsh breaths of the guy holding the camera was all that could be heard between the occasional noise of the boyfriend's desperate gasps before he disappeared beneath the surface of the water for a third time. How long had she been under? Dangerously long, and it felt like an eternity . . . He had worked here practically his whole life, and he had never before seen someone drown. He should have made her wear the damned life vest! But she had been so pretty, and her voice had been like music . . . She had seemed so sure of herself.
Splashing and a light vibration of the dock, had the pier guy turning to see who was coming to help. The camera view swung around, at first not finding anybody, and then, a hand grabbed the rail beside the ladder several yards to the rear of the dock. Another hand appeared on the opposite rail. A familiar female figure made her way onto the dock, wet clothes plastered obscenely against her body; her long, dark hair dripping rivulets of lake water onto the boards. She wiped a hand over her face, pushing her hair back.
"Y-you're alive! You're not d-drowned," came pier guy's shocked voice from behind the camera.
The girlfriend gave him the kind of look that had made him feel the need to question his own intelligence ratio as she sloshed her way toward the end of the dock.
"Keep filming," she ordered, when he allowed the camera to drop. "Trust me, you aren't going to want to miss this," she said as she swept past him.
She stood, feet apart and arms akimbo, dripping as she waited for her boyfriend to resurface. She didn't appear to be any the worse for wear, but neither did she appear to be especially amused by her recent dunking. Wild-eyed, pier guy gulped and continued filming.
It didn't take long before the boyfriend to break the surface in order to take another gasping breath. Luckily, he glanced up before turning to dive again. His eyes widened; relief and joy evident in his features.
"Oh, thank God," he gasped. "Elle! How . . .? I thought you were . . ." he couldn't make himself finish that particular sentence. "Are you alright?"
The avenging angel seemed to soften slightly at the sight of his relief, but not enough to get him completely off the hook. She leaned slightly forward as if to give greater weight to her words.
"You dropped me," she accused.
The pier guy, caught up in the drama, swung the camera down towards the boyfriend, currently treading water directly beneath the sopping woman. He seemed to come to an immediate understanding as his expression morphed from relief to embarrassment and dismay.
"Oh, uh . . .," he stammered for a moment. "It . . . it was an accident?"
The woman's eyes narrowed dangerously, and her lips tightened. "An accident?"
"You slipped . . .," he clarified, "out of my grasp."
"Seriously," she asked, apparently unimpressed. "That's the story you want to go with right now?"
The man in the water gulped audibly, nodding. "Yes? I . . . uh, yes. Definitely, yes."
The girlfriend pursed her lips in thought. After a minute, one side quirked up into a half smile. The boyfriend, sensing that the danger had passed, reached up to the edge of the pier; pulling himself out of the water.
As his waist pulled even with the pier, the woman's foot met his forehead, causing the man to halt his progress. Their eyes met for a meaningful instant.
"Whoops! I'm so sorry. My foot slipped," she cooed, and then deliberately shoved him back into the lake with a resounding splash. She kneeled on one knee, grinning, as she waited for him to resurface.
"Okay," he admitted upon emerging. "I may have deserved that."
His hands reached for the dock's edge again, and this time he pulled himself up quickly. Her eyes went wide in surprise as one of his hands grabbed the front of her flannel shirt again as fleetingly his lips met hers. He let himself fall backward into the water; his girlfriend barely having time to yelp before being tossed over his head, and into the lake headfirst.
This time, both parties materialized within seconds, laughing at each other. The woman splashed him as he grinned at her.
"Hey," he protested. "I'll remind you that I jumped into a freezing lake to save your ass!"
"My ass didn't need saving," she told him, smugly. "My ass can swim very, very well, thank you; as can the rest of me!"
"Aquaman's cousin?"
She grinned. "Exactly! And let's face it, you like my ass, and that's why you tried to save it," she announced with a smirk, before swimming back to the dock ladder.
The two men watched as she cut smoothly through the water. He glanced up toward the guy holding the camera. "She's got that right," he said, "It is, without a doubt, an ass worthy of saving."
"Uh, sir? You're going to have to come out of the water now," the pier guy's voice floated from behind the camera's view, hesitantly. "There's no swimming allowed here."
The grinning man moved to follow his date's path through the chilled water.
Arabella was still dripping despite being wrapped up in one of the rough blankets the boat rental place had loaned them, when Dick pulled up to the front of her upscale, tenement apartment building. As there was no close parking spots, Dick remained double parked near the entrance so that she wouldn't have to walk far in the cold breeze. The weather had taken a cold turn from the balmy breezes of the early afternoon; the temperature dropping even more with the fading light.
Elle turned to him, smiling despite the soggy ending of their date. His eyes were drawn to a bead a water that had slithered down from her hairline and now dangled alluringly from the tip of her red nose. Before he thought about it, one finger came up to catch that droplet. Her nose crunched adorably at his action.
"I'm sorry that I dropped you," he began, apologizing for the tenth time since they climbed out of the lake. "I promise that it will never happen again."
Her hand slid out from beneath the blanket to cup his face. He couldn't resist leaning into it. "You don't have to apologize," she told him. "I'm Aquaman's cousin, remember? I love to swim."
Dick blinked at her easy-going manner and good humor. Her eyes were warm, and gentle, filled with happiness and something . . . else. But there was no sign of recrimination to be found. He was, frankly, astonished. Somewhere inside of him, he had been mourning the end of what had promised to be something very special. Most women would have not taken being unceremoniously dropped onto murky, stinking, freezing, lake water well. Most women would have angrily demanded to be taken home before telling him to, well . . . to go jump in the lake.
"You are . . . amazing," he whispered.
She snorted, inelegantly. "No, I am wet," she teased him. "And so are you. But I thank you for the complement."
He smiled, gazing into her warm brown eyes. "I don't suppose you would be interested in . . ."
"Yes," she interrupted him. "Yes, I would."
He grinned. "You don't even know what I was planning to say."
"It doesn't matter," she assured him. "If it is with you, then I'm interested."
He was speechless. He was never speechless . . . and yet he found that he had been exactly that several times during the course of the day. And he had enjoyed every second of it. Well, he clarified, every second he hadn't thought she were drowning, anyway.
Darting in the last couple of inches that separated them, Elle kissed him. The world seemed to fade away as the warmth of her lips seeped into his body; into his heart. If Dick had ever been cold, he could no longer remember it.
The kiss ended far too soon. She touched her forehead to his, smiling at him. "Thank you for today. I enjoyed myself.
"Except for the dunking at the end?"
"Including the dunking at the end," she reassured him. "It made a wonderful day that much more memorable."
He laughed. "I'll bet."
"As if I could have forgotten even a minute of the best date ever," she held up her video camera.
A car horn beeped behind them. Dick put down the window to wave them around as Elle opened her door.
"Oh, I should have gotten that for you," he groused, cross with himself. Alfred would have been appalled, he was certain.
"No," she assured him. "I'm sure I can manage this time." She turned to get out of the car, but turned back at the last minute. "Will you . . . um, I mean, will I be seeing you again this Thursday?"
"I wouldn't miss it," he said. "And . . . If you want . . . ah, maybe tomorrow? For dinner? I figure as long as we stay away from water, we'll be safe."
The smile she graced him with was brilliant. "Absolutely."
Dick watched her enter her building through the double glass doors; stopping to speak briefly to the security guard manning the front desk before entering the elevator at the back of the lobby. Just before the doors slid closed, she turned and saw him watching her. She smiled, waving her fingers from the edge of the blanket as the elevator doors slid shut.
Another horn blared, and Dick pulled out into traffic. This had been the most interesting date he had ever been on in . . . his brow creased, like – ever! He shivered as yet more cold, lake water dripped down the back of his neck. On a scale of one to ten, he tried to place it amongst his memories of every other date he could recall . . . After several moments in thought, his face cleared, and he decided that Elle was right. It had been the best date ever!