We met at the park. I was nervous, and couldn’t meet his eyes. He was wearing dark sunglasses anyway, and I couldn’t begin to guess what was going through his mind. He finally took them off when we wandered into a shaded area. We stood silently, watching children splash in the fountain. 

I couldn’t think of a thing to say to him, or remember a single thing he had said to me. I just stood by him, watching the children, watching the water ripple across the fountain, feeling the beat of my heart inside my chest. Then I felt the back of his hand brush mine, and his fingers cup around my fingertips. The inside of my body turned to water.

"Do you want..." he asked, at the exact moment I said, "Should we..."

We laughed. I looked over at him, and realized it was dumb to be so scared. Nothing frightening was going to happen. Or at least, nothing frightening was going to happen to me alone.

We walked over to a park bench and sat. I was warm, probably flushed, and unbuttoned my cardigan, letting it drop down my arms and off. 

"I’ll get us ice cream," he said, and dashed off to a silver cart with a yellow umbrella parked a dozen or so yards away. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was simply expending nervous energy.

I waited on the bench, my hands pressed beneath my thighs, leaning forward to kick at a pebble lying in the grass. A shadow fell across me and I looked up to see him, holding our treats. I thanked him and took the cone.

"How is your ice cream?" he asked, after a few minutes.

"Oh, very good, thank you. And yours?"

"Delicious."

We smiled at each other again, and tried not to laugh. I pretended we were really talking about ice cream, and so did he.

"Have you thought about what I asked?" he said, when we’d finished our cones.

"Of course."

"What’s your answer?"

I leaned forward again, and kicked at the pebble, letting my hair fall between us like a curtain, shielding my face.

"Nicky?" he said.

It was the first time he’d used my nickname. I turned and looked at him, and he brushed the curtain of hair away from my face.

"Is that a yes?" he asked.

"Yes."

He leaned forward, and kissed me. I knew I had made the right decision.

♥♥♥♥♥♥

Biographical Profile on Pamela Mosher

Pam Mosher's fiction has appeared in Ink Pot, Summerset Review, Pindeldyboz, RomanceEverAfter, and other publications. One story placed second in the 2003 Paul Gillette Memorial Writing Contest, and a second story received honorable mention in the 2003 Literary Potpourri Celebration Writing Contest.

You can read another story by Pam in our Romantic Tales category by linking to At First  Glance.!

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