“so you’re a city girl now,” he said, ordering drinks for the two of us as i slid down across from him in the corner booth. in this dim light, his light eyes glowed with an inner luminisence and his features softened, skin smooth as stretches of sand glimpsed from a boat at sea. i could feel myself swaying, a rolling vessel lured by the long-feared permanence of an anchor’s hold. suddenly, there were worse things i could be than secure.
“i suppose i am,” i said, afraid to meet his eyes too long, afraid to forget to come up for air. afraid i just might want to stay, after working so hard at leaving.
“what’s the biggest change so far?” he asked, as the waiter lit the votive between us and we came alive for each other, golden hues illuminating the stifled secrets we just might give away.
“my calves,” i replied, smiling but serious. his face registered bemused confusion.
“all these hours in heels, it’s alarmingly exhausting.”
he grinned. “well, then. cheers to wearing heels as a sign of maturity.”
and as our glasses clinked, i feared that we were growing up too fast.