He parked in the parking garage for the Rock Harbor waterfront. I was excited because I hadn’t been to the waterfront since college.
Atlas opened my door, holding his hand out again to help me climb out of the truck. I placed my palm in his, using him to steady myself as I climbed down, but even when my feet touched the ground—he was still holding my hand.
Sure, we’d held hands before. At the wedding I’d dragged him all over.
But this was different. Intentional on his part. It made my heart feel like it was going to leap out of my chest.
“This way,” he said, leading me toward the waterfront.
I was expecting the musty smell of the harbor but was met with a light, sweet scent instead. The cherry blossoms lining the promenade were in bloom, their cotton candy petals fluttering in the breeze.
“Wow,” I said in a daze. I knew about the cherry blossoms, most folks who lived in Briar Glenn did, but this was my first time seeing them in full bloom.
“I thought you’d like them.” Atlas stroked the back of my hand. “Wanna walk for a bit?”
“I’d love to.”
We started down the paved path that ran along the waterfront. Because it was a Saturday, there were quite a few people out enjoying the nice weather. Families picnicked beneath the trees and couples like us walked hand in hand along the harbor. The occasional cyclist rolled by, taking care not to ride too close to us or the water. It was a picture-perfect afternoon.
“Being down here—does it make you regret opening a gym in Briar Glenn instead?” I asked.
“Not at all. There’s a lot of beautiful, unexpected things in Briar Glenn. Things I never would have ever found in Rock Harbor,” he said, staring at me.
I looked away, feeling my cheeks heat because I knewexactlywhat he was referring to.
Me.
“Did you come here a lot when you were a kid?” he asked.
“When I was a teenager, I’d beg my mom to drive me to the Rock Harbor Mall on Friday nights. It was the cool thing to do.”
“You didn’t drive?”
“I had my learner’s permit, but I was too afraid to drive on the highway.” One bad merging incident had scared me away from highway driving well into adulthood.
“Okay, that is super cute.”
“No, it’s not! I was so lame!” I laughed.
He shrugged. “I would have thought it was cute. And I would have happily driven you around to wherever you wanted to go.”
It was never good to make assumptions, but I was under the impression that we hung out with opposite crowds in high school. Given what his About Me section on the gym website said, Atlas was definitely a jock in high school.
“What were you like in high school?” I asked, wanting to hear it straight from the wolven’s mouth.
His furry brows drew back. “What do you think I was like?”
“I don’t like making assumptions about people,” I said, playfully shrugging my shoulders.
“I’m sure it’s no surprise that I was a total jock. It’s the reason I started driving, actually. So my parents didn’t have to pick me up from practice. What about you? What were you like?”
“An emo kid.”
“No. Way.” The way he punctuated the words made me laugh.
“Yep. White studded belt. Checkered Vans. For a while theremy parents were convinced I only had one eye.” He cocked his head, obviously not getting it. “You know, the whole bangs-covering-one-eye thing?”
He laughed. “I can’t picture it. You’re going to have to show me some pictures.”
