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Vanilla

Declan

I was a relatively impatient person, so normally tourists in Manhattan kind of got on my nerves. They walked too slow, looked around too much while stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, and talked about everything way too excitedly.

But there was something about Abi’s reaction to everything that was like freebased serotonin.

She’d seemed nervous at my apartment, when she was putting her luggage in the guest room and it was just the two of us, and I suspected she was second-guessing her decision.

Which I totally understood.

I’d been asking myself over and over again, since I got the damn tickets, what the hell I was doing.

Was this entanglement a good idea?

I was basically just following the urge to be with her, the enjoyment of being around her, but did I want it to go anywhere?

That was what I needed to figure out.

I’d been out of the dating pool for a long time because I had no patience for bullshit, but I liked the idea of Abi in my life. She was funny and smart and easy to be with, so having her in my life as a friend would be great.

But I couldn’t deny the attraction and the chemistry, especially when the kisses we’d shared were always on my mind. Twenty-four-fucking-seven.

Dear God, the woman had gotten under my skin.

But I was also a practical person and could absolutely work around feelings even if they didn’t make sense.

So I guess inviting her here was my attempt to make it make sense.

“If I lived in Manhattan, I would come here every day,” she said, standing on top of the rock and looking out over the Central Park pond. “I mean, just look at that.”

She pointed out in the direction of Midtown.

“Yes, I’ve seen it,” I said, wanting to laugh. “And I run here in the morning when it’s nice out.”

“You do?” she asked, looking surprised. “It’s nowhere near your place, though, is it?”

“No, but it’s near my office,” I said. “So Leonard takes me to the park early, I run, and then I head into work.”

“Seriously?” she asked, her eyes all lit up like I’d just confessed to riding a golden unicorn to work each morning.

“Seriously,” I said, nodding and letting myself imagine her going with me. “It’s nice in the fall.”

“God,” she said on a sigh, shaking her head. “Running in Central Park in the fall; what a dream.”

“We’d walk if you lived here, Mariano,” I said, nudging her with my elbow. “I’d only let you run in summer, when the ragweed wouldn’t torture your lungs.”

Her smile went away, and she looked up at me with a wrinkle in her forehead.

“What?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“That’s not me being controlling,” I backtracked, realizing my words. “I know I’m not the boss of you.”

“I know.” She blinked fast a few times, like she was thinking, and then she said, “What are we doing for dinner?”

I had trouble catching up for a second.

“Wait. You’ve had a hot dog, a gyro, and a pretzel—are you still hungry?”

“Well, not yet, it’s barely past lunchtime,” she said. “But I’m always thinking about my next meal. Everything here smells so fantastic.”

“In the park?”

“In the city,” she corrected.

“Well, what are you in the mood for?” I asked, looking at her. I resisted the urge to pull my phone out and take a photo of her on the rock.

“Maybe we should just walk around over in that direction and think about it. Walk until we pass by the perfect place to have dinner.”

“Well,” I said, a little distracted by the way the wind was blowing her hair around her face and the way she looked in those huge sunglasses. “If we don’t have reservations, we probably can’t eat at a perfect place.”

“Okay, so do you have a favorite restaurant that usually fits you in?” she asked. “Where the owner calls you ‘Dekkie’ and always says you’re too skinny?”

“I’d never go back to a place where someone called me that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Spare me the macho and find me a good Italian place, Dekkie. I’m kind of in the mood for spaghetti and meatballs.”

“I’ll think while we walk, Abster.”

So we spent the entire afternoon walking around with no end goal. It sounded boring on paper, but I had a great time.

I took pictures of her in front of both the Simon nothing about the day had felt like just friends.

It’d been a perfect daylong date.

“What do you want it to be?” I asked, desperate to know the answer.

“Are you kidding me?” She laughed, shaking her head and looking at me like I was nuts. “Talk about your loaded question.”

“Abi,” I said, pausing to take down a little of my Manhattan because I felt like I needed backup.

I swallowed the cold liquid, feeling the warmth of the alcohol in my stomach, and told her, “We’re friends, and if you want it to stay that way, you say the word.

I mean, I’ve done this for Roman before; I’ve flown him in out of boredom and he’s hung out at my place for a few days. ”

“Really?” she asked, and I could tell it made her feel better.

“Sure,” I said. “So if you want to be another Roman, that’s absolutely fine.”

I considered myself to be a self-aware person, and I had become painfully aware during the course of the day that my feelings for Abi were growing at an exponential rate.

But because of how we met, I wanted it to move forward organically—if it did at all. I didn’t want her to feel pressured or like I had the upper hand in the power dynamics of our situation.

I just wanted to hang out with Abi and if it felt right, gradually move on to more.

“Another Roman,” she said, smiling. “That’s a new one.”

“Right?” I said, praying to God she felt a fraction of what I was feeling because when I looked at her, I was a little overwhelmed. “For the rest of tonight and until you leave tomorrow morning, let’s not define this. Let’s just see where this goes on its own, okay?”