It was past midnight when they finally left the jammed warehouse and drove back to her condo. Neither of them said much, both feeling warm and slightly flushed as they navigated the quiet streets. Like he had for much of the past few hours, Colin held her hand, his thumb moving against her skin and making it tingle. As they neared her place, she imagined what might happen if she invited Colin upstairs, and was both frightened and excited by her thoughts. They hadn’t known each other long enough, and she wasn’t sure she was quite ready… yet she had to admit that she wanted him to come up. She wanted their evening together to continue; she wanted him to kiss her again and take her in his arms. Despite her conflicting emotions, she directed him to the parking area behind her condo.
After locking the car, they walked up the steps beside each other, both of them quiet. When they reached the door, she fumbled with her keys, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she unlocked the door. Entering and passing through the living area, she turned on the lamp near the couch, but when she turned around, she realized that Colin had stopped at the threshold. He seemed to sense her confusion, offering her a chance to end the evening now, before it went too far. But something had taken hold of her, and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she smiled.
“Come on in,” she said her voice sounding hoarse and foreign to her own ears. Colin quietly closed the door behind him as he took in the living area with its dark pine flooring and crown molding, and the French doors that opened to the small balcony. Though she suspected he probably wouldn’t have cared one way or the other, she was suddenly glad she’d spent the morning straightening up, right down to fluffing the decorative pillows on the couch.
“You have a beautiful place.”
“Thank you.”
Moving closer to examine the framed photos above the couch, he asked, “Did you take these?”
She nodded. “Earlier this summer.”
He studied them in silence – especially the close-up of the osprey clasping a fish in its talons and surrounded by droplets of water. “You’re very good,” he said, visibly impressed.
“You don’t know how many bad shots it took to get these, but thank you.” Standing close, she could feel the heat still radiating from his body. “Would you like something to drink? I have a bottle of wine in the fridge.”
“Maybe half a glass. I’ve never been a big wine drinker. And if you have some water, that would be great, too.”
Leaving him, she went to the kitchen and pulled a couple of wineglasses from the cabinets. In the refrigerator was a bottle she’d opened the night before. She poured two glasses and took a sip before retrieving another glass for his water.
“Would you like ice?”
“Sure, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“I think I can handle ice.”
She handed him the water glass, and watched as Colin drained it. Taking the empty glass from him, she set it on the breakfast bar before gesturing toward the French doors.
“Shall we go out on the balcony? I’m in the mood for a little fresh air.”
“Sounds good,” he agreed, reaching for his wineglass. Opening the doors, they stepped onto the balcony. The air was cool against her skin, haze beginning to roll in with the breeze. Traffic was light and the sidewalks stood empty. Streetlights cast a yellow glow, and from the bar at the corner she could hear the faint strains of eighties pop music.
He motioned to the rocking chairs off to the side. “Do you ever sit out here?”
“Not enough. Which is kind of sad, since the balcony is one of the reasons I bought the condo in the first place. I think I had this idea that I’d unwind out here after work, but it usually doesn’t turn out that way. Most nights, I’ll have a quick dinner and either plant myself at the dining room table or at the desk in the spare bedroom with my MacBook.” She shrugged. “The whole trying-to-get-ahead thing again, but we’ve already talked about that, haven’t we?”
“We’ve talked about a lot of things.”
“Does that mean you’re getting bored with me already?”
He turned toward her, his eyes reflecting the evening light. “No.”
“You know what I find interesting about you?” Colin waited, saying nothing. “You don’t feel the need to always explain your reasoning when you answer questions. You get straight to the point. The only time you elaborate is when you’re asked to do so. You’re a man of very few words.”
“Okay.”
“That’s exactly what I mean!” she teased. “But all right, you’ve made me curious. Why don’t you elaborate unless you’re specifically asked to do so?”
“Because it’s easier. And it takes less time.”
“Don’t you think that including others in your thought process helps them understand you better?”
“That assumes they want to understand me better. And if they do, they’ll ask me to explain and then I’ll do it.”
“And if they don’t ask?”
“Then they probably don’t care about my reasoning in the first place. They just want to know the answer. I know I do. If I ask someone what time it is, I don’t need a history of clock-making and I don’t care who gave them the watch, or how expensive it was, or whether it was a Christmas present. I just want the time.”
“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about trying to get to know someone. Making conversation.”
“So am I. But not everyone needs – or even wants – to know why you feel the way you do about something. Some things are better left private.”