She clapped her hands in front of her and held them to her chest. “Oh, my gosh, everywhere.”
I might have only just met her, but I wasn’t surprised by her answer.
“First, I would go to Paris.” She splayed her hands out in front of her like she was imagining a map being laid out for us to look at. “Then, I’d go…” she continued.
And on and on she went, talking about all the places she wanted to go and all the things she wanted to see, and I loved listening to every second of it.
When we were finally seated, she lifted her camera bag from around her neck and set it next to her. “And that’s just where I’d go the first year.”
I chuckled at this. Of course she was only talking about the first year. “That’s a lot of places to go in one year.”
“Yeah, but when you take out travel time, it’s totallydoable.” She waved me off. “And just thinking about all the photographs I could take makes me want to go even more.” She took off her green coat, revealing a bright pink-and-blue-patterned sweater underneath.
“Are you a photographer?” I wondered if she’d been willing to risk life and limb to get a particular photo at the hotel. “Is that why you were taking pictures at the Plaza?”
“Ah, ah, ah,” she wagged a finger at me. “No questions about what we might do for a living. Remember?”
I held up my hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry.”
She only smiled at me and then turned her attention to the menu. We both took time to decide what we wanted, and when the waiter arrived, we placed our order.
“It’s your turn to ask me a question now,” she said, leaning on the table and interlocking her fingers.
I rubbed a hand across the stubble on my chin. I wasn’t very good at small talk, especially when I couldn’t ask the easy questions, like “What do you do for work?” or “Where are you from?”
When my brain kept coming up blank on something I could ask her, I finally said, “Are you a morning person or a night owl?” As soon as the question was out, I knew it was lame. It wasn’t even a ‘what if’ question. I wanted to smack myself on the forehead.
Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice or care.
“Oh, definitely a morning person,” she answered immediately. “It always feels good to start a new day.”She reached for the glass of water the waiter had dropped off. “What about you?”
“I would say I’m a morning person too.” I fiddled with the silverware on the table. “I like to get up and get going with my day.”
Even our questions showed how different we were. She was talking about superpowers and traveling. I was talking about sleep habits. Not that it mattered how different we were. After ourlinner, I’d never see this woman again. But meeting her today and spending time together had me wondering if I was as content with my life as I thought I was. I had been dealt certain cards and had never felt like I could really change them. My childhood and past had made me who I was, and I had never entertained the thought of being any different. But the longer I was with Belle, the more I began to wonder if there was a possibility of letting myself hope for something else.Whatelse, I wasn’t sure, but she had me wanting to find out. Which was crazy. Her exuberance and energy were contagious. It almost felt tangible, like maybe I could grab onto it and be as happy as her.
Okay, yeah, I was definitely going crazy. Maybe the hit I’d taken last night on the ice had been harder than I’d thought.
I reached for my glass, taking a drink of the cold water, hoping it would drown out my thoughts.
“What if,” she said, sitting up straight like she was already excited to hear my answer, “you could be a professional athlete or be good enough at a sport to make it to the Olympics, what would it be?”
I almost spit out my water, coughing and sputtering as I tried to get it down.
Her eyes widened in concern. “Oh, my gosh, are you okay?”
I coughed into my hand a few times before I could answer. “Uh, yes. I’m fine.” I hit a fist against my chest. “A sport, huh?”
She looked relaxed now as she nodded since I was no longer choking.
“I, uh…” I scratched the back of my neck, shifting in my seat. How was I supposed to answer that? I hadn’t really ever played any other sports. In truth, hockey was the superior sport, and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. My mind raced, grasping for something—anything—to say.
I was a good skater—more than good, actually. And figure skating was big during the Olympics, right? I bet I could do that.
“I would do figure skating,” I finally blurted out.
Her brows shot up so high, they almost reached her hairline. “Figure skating?” she echoed, tilting her head as if trying to picture it. “But you’re huge. I can’t imagine you dancing on ice. Maybe playing hockey, but definitely not figure skating.”
Was it warm in here? I tugged at the neckline of my shirt, suddenly feeling like all the air had been sucked from the room. My stealth skills were severely lacking.
