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Chapter 13
Greyson
At first, I try to be impressive. I think about taking her back to my apartment and cooking there. At home, I dig through the cub boards, the fridge, everything. I have ingredients for enchiladas. I bite my lip and close my eyes, feeling awkward.
Should I take her out instead?
There are so many problems.
I go to my closet and grab an outfit, and a spare, and then go to the Spotlight. I’m early, but I need help.
“BARNEY!!” I shout, crashing into the shop. Barney jumps and tips out of the chair. (His fault, I will say. He shouldn’t lean on the back chair legs.)
“What?” Barney grouches as he climbs up from the floor. He places his iPod and his magazine onto the counter.
“I need serious help,” I wave my change of clothes in front of his eyes.
“No kidding,” Barney raises his eyebrows. “What on earth are you wearing?”
I look down. Suddenly I want to make sure I put pants on. “Should I not wear it?”
Barney scans me up and down. “I don’t think so.”
“Alright, I’m wearing it.” I slam down the other clothes onto the counter.
“What, is my advice not good?” Barney says indignantly.
“No, it’s fine,” I say. “I just realized at the moment you said your advice, I wanted to wear it.”
“So, dressed like that, what are you going to be doing?” Barney asks, getting back on the chair. He tips backwards again. On a normal basis, I’d be tempted to scare him, causing him to top over again. But I need help right now. And as funny as it’d be, I can’t have any distractions.
I freeze. “I have no idea.”
“Well, you met her today for coffee…why not just go to a casual restaurant?”
I finger the jacket I’m wearing. “I suppose.”
“Greyson, seriously. Take it off.”
I smile crookedly. “Not happening, dude.”
Lorence
I walk up to the doors of the Spotlight, biting my nails. Immediately after realizing this, I yank my hands away from my mouth. Before coming, I had carefully painted my nails so I wouldn’t bite them. The plan was obviously not going as planned.
Previously, I had failed to see what nail polish looked nice with what outfit, it didn’t really matter. Silver seemed to look best with all of my clothes, as well as flesh. Literally. At home after meeting Greyson, I was a crazy maniac trying to figure out what I wanted to wear. I even called Stephen. He wasn’t much of a help, but it was nice to complain to him. With some of his help, I ended up wearing a knee length dance skirt that was extremely silky and was the perfect skirt to spin in. For a shirt I wore a ruffled white blouse with a black vest on it. I wear my usual accessories—bullet necklace, charm bracelet, Love is the Movement rubber bracelet. Shoes were black converse. I covered the outfit with my jean jacket, much to Stephen’s objection. It still felt like too much.
But when I walked into the Spotlight and saw Greyson, I didn’t feel so overdressed. And it’s funny, we kind of match.
“Hi Greyson,” I begin and then fully take in what he’s wearing. “Nice…suit.”
“You like it?” he beams. “It’s not too much?”
I feel the corners of my mouth twitch into a grin. “How would I know? You’re the one organizing this date.”
“You seem anxious,” Greyson winks at me.
I blush.
“What don’t we get started?”
There seems to be a fire inside of me. It’s heating my cheeks and I can only nod and smile. There is nothing that can put out these flames. Greyson takes my hand and leads me to the curb. He waves down a cab and opens the door for me.
“What a gentleman,” I giggle. Sparks. What’s going to stop them from turning into an inferno? I am like a school girl. But I don’t really mind at the moment.
Greyson keeps smiling back at me and climbs in.
“Where to?” the cab driver asks.
Greyson hands him a small card. He reads it and nods. Greyson seems excited.
I turn to him, eyebrows raised in playful, mock suspicion. “You’re not telling me, are you?”
Greyson chuckles and shakes his head. “Nope.”
However, I don’t need to wait that long to figure out where we’re going. I know the route, and I know where we are by the time I feel Greyson tensing up with excitement. Central Park. Greyson pays the drive the moment he stops, and lets me out of the car. Then he walks me over to the park entrance and to a horse and buggy ride.
I start laughing nervously.
“You’re not afraid of horses, are you? I hope not,” Greyson says, taking my hand.
“No,” I say. But I continue to laugh like I’m scared. “No, I’m not.”
“Great,” Greyson smiles and leads me up into the buggy. “You know where to go,” he tells the coachman.
The horse drawn carriage is wonderful. But I watch the entrance as we delve deeper and deeper into the park. “It’s getting dark. What are we doing?” I ask Greyson.
It’s getting cold. And it’s not that I’m scared, but I’ve seen one too many murder mystery shows where the body shows up in Central Park. I shiver, partly because of cold, partly because of semi fear.
“Are you scared?” Greyson puts his arm around my shoulders. I stubbornly shake my head. Greyson’s hand is warm. I lean onto his shoulder.
“Not scared,” I say.
“Alright, here you are,” the coachman stops the horses. I pet their faces while Greyson pays. I don’t want to see the paper being exchanged and almost cringe at the sound of it.
“This is too much,” I whisper when the carriage pulls away.
“Nah,” Greyson assures. But I’m not convinced.
“Follow me,” he says, and we walk through the dark grass, deeper into the heart of the park. He tells me to close my eyes after a bit. I close them, wary.
“What are you going to do with me?” I ask.
“Don’t you trust me?” Greyson says. I like hearing the smile in his voice.
I sigh. “Yeah, I do. Just don’t kill me.”
“Okay. You can open your eyes.”
I do, and Greyson’s hands are over them. “That kind of defeats the purpose, Greyson,” I say.
“I know. But before you really open your eyes, imagine.”
“Imagine?” I repeat.
“You’re a writer, an artist. Imagining is part of the job, right?”
I laugh. “I guess so.”
“Can you guess where we are?”
“Can you give me a hint?”
“I did.”
“You did?”
“Imagine.”
I think for a moment. “A…blank space to paint?”
“We’re in a park, Laurie. Guess again.”
I smile. “Imagine,” I repeat. “Another hint?”
“Fine. But you’ll get this one immediately.” And I do. He starts singing those soft words, with his beautiful voice. “Let me take you down…”
And I know in an instant. “Oh, Greyson, really?”
Greyson laughs and takes his hands from my eyes. I look down, and I see the tips of my toes are on the edge of a circle decorated with flowers. In the center of the concrete circle, are letters spelling out the word,
Imagine “Cuz I’m going to,” I continue the song.
“Strawberry Fields,” Greyson adds.
“Nothing is real.”
“There’s nothing to get hung about.”
“Strawberry Fields forever,” we sing the last bit together—my awkward voice combining with his silky, perfect one.
“We’re not done though,” Greyson smiles.
“Wow, more?” I look at him, shocked. “You certainly got a lot done in the six hours I didn’t see you.”
“One can do so if he uses his time wisely,” Greyson replies smoothly. “Follow me.”
He puts out his arm and I take it, and we walk through the nighttime park. It’s eerie, but I’m getting over the fact. I feel safe with Greyson. We walk for a while until I think we’re at the Upper Meadow. There’s a piano set up in a clearing, the trees half sheltering it. Candles rest on it, rose petals are spread across the floor and the seat and the piano itself.
“Oh,” I breathe. I can’t say anything else.
Maybe it’s okay I’m at a loss for words. Because suddenly, the lips that pressed themselves gently to my hand are now meeting my own lips. I close my eyes. Greyson lights the sparks into flickering flames and now there is a firestorm inside me. I know it cannot be quelled.