“She’s taken,” Garrett says, his deep bass playfully gruff.
“Does that mean you’re my boyfriend?” With a sassy wiggle, I pivot to where Garrett stands behind me taking a video of me feeding the giraffe.
“What do you want?” Chuckling, he pushes his phone into his pocket before stepping closer and handing me my cane.
Head tipped up, I bat my lashes. “I’m just confirming that you’re my boyfriend.”
He takes my hand, guiding us away from the giraffe feeding station. “I am, indeed, your boyfriend, which is why I know you’re angling for something. I’m assuming it’s either a stuffed giraffe from the souvenir shop or a latte from one of the food stands.”
I am very much aware that Garrett Marlowe is my boyfriend. At least, officially as of a month ago. It didn’t come with the fireworks of a big romantic proclamation, but it was perfect.
We’d stopped at the campus coffeeshop before he took me home, and the barista commented,“You and your girlfriend are so cute together.”
To which Garrett said, “She is pretty cute, isn’t she?”
“You didn’t correct them,” I say, as we slide down the counter to wait for our drinks.
“About?”
“The girlfriend thing.” I gesture to him.
“I didn’t,” he says simply.
I arch one eyebrow. “So are we saying that is how you define me…as your girlfriend.”
“If you want to be, pretty girl.” He grabs my hips and pulls me close.
“I do.”
“Good.” He kisses my forehead.
“Does that make you my boyfriend?” I press into him.
“I’m whatever you want me to be,” he murmurs, resting his chin on my head and banding his arms around me.
At twenty-nine, I have my first real boyfriend—whateverreal boyfriendmeans. Without putting too much pressure on thisrelationship, I hope it’s not an actual first and just an only situation.
“Why do we have to embrace a world of binaries—either or?” I bump my hip against Him. “Why not a world of ands? A latteanda giraffe.”
“After the hike.”
“Boo!” With a mock pout, I turn down the dirt path leading toward a series of trails within the park. “But it’ssowarm!”
Southern California may be known for its sunny weather, but May is gray. It makes it ideal for Palm Springs getaways before it gets so hot that you could fry an egg on the sidewalk. It’s still warmer than Seal Beach, especially if you’re going to do a five-mile desert hike.
“You love the heat,” he teases.
“In blankets and beverages, not while exercising,” I groan.
“It’s not that warm. It will only be eighty-six today, and it’s barely eight-thirty. You’ll be fine. Five miles is nothing. We’ll be done well before noon.”
He’s right, of course. With the half-marathon at the end of the month, we’ve been doing a combo of ten miles of a jog/power walk twice a week to work our way up to 13.1, so this is more than doable. Not to mention I’m in the best physical shape of my life between my solo treadmill runs and conditioning exercises the rest of the week.
Since we’re on a mini getaway, we’re giving ourselves the weekend off from training, but still built in some exercise between sightseeing, meals, and claiming each other on just about every surface at the condo Garrett borrowed for the weekend from a fellow doctor at the hospital. I have a moderate level of guilt for our antics, but not enough to not jump Garrett as soon as we’re back.
Yesterday we took the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway and did a low-intensity hike on one of the trails at the top followed bylunch at a café at the overlook before a night in where we cooked dinner together and played Uno with my braille cards. Today is a more rigorous desert trail at the zoo. On top of the animals and other attractions, the Living Desert offers a few hiking trails within the park to simulate the full desert experience.
“It says it’s this way,” Garrett mutters as we stop.
