which I dumped my former glam and shine for one ordinary afternoon. It must have shown, a moment’s hesitation, because Mr. Brannagh stood up and moved with all the dishes to the sink.
“I’ll take care of this, kids,” he said. “Why don’t you go make the most of the rest of the afternoon while you can?”
“You sure?” Keith was out of his chair in a second, but he looked equally eager to help cleaning up or to escape the room. Weird. I’d never volunteer to do the dishes of my own volition.
Mr. Brannagh nodded, though, so we thanked him and exited the kitchen. I fully expected to go back to guitar practice, which actually didn’t sound half bad as long as he took off the headphones and played for me to hear, but he hesitated in the corridor. The look he cast to his bedroom’s door wasn’t the most eager thing I’d ever seen.
“So, would you like to go outside?”
“Outside?” A small bout of panic swelled in my chest. “As in, to the mall or the movies or something?”
He met my eyes, then shook his head with a small, dry laugh. “No, of course not. Just outside, to the park or something. If you want. I know a nice view I’d like to show you.”
“Oh.” Okay, no civilized places where we’d run into my school friends. “Well, let’s go then. Is it some kind of Keith-lair or something?”
He snorted, grabbing our jackets.
“You could say that.”
It happened to be close by. Or at least within walking distance. He guided me through winding back streets, away from my own home, from the school, from the commercial area of town, and into a park where children used to play on Sunday mornings. It was Saturday, the afternoon dying and bleeding into the evening, so the place was deserted as we crossed the open space with its picnic tables and multicolored swings.
“Are you cold?” he asked suddenly.
“No, it’s fine. I hadn’t thought we’d be outside at this time, but it’s okay.”
He nodded and climbed a wooden fence that separated the family area from a copse of trees. “Most people never think of spending Saturday night here,” he said, reaching out a hand to help me up.
“Yeah, you’re original. That was clear even before this escapade.” His hand was slender, his long fingers wrapping around my own with a strength I’d not have suspected. His pale skin looked like porcelain under the falling twilight, I realized, but his fingers were calloused from the guitar strings.
Beyond that, though, what left me hesitating and staring into his eyes was the way it fit. It was like my hand had been made to be held in his, completely enveloped, but not swallowed, and I was assaulted by the same sense of rightness I’d had when I heard him speaking my name. The moment stretched for…. I don’t remember how long, because he didn’t pull back and I didn’t let go even when we were on the other side of the fence—I just held on to his hand and his gaze, never letting go until the air grew so thick that I felt that if I didn’t blink I’d suffocate.
In his favor, he didn’t call me out on my odd behavior.
“It’s this way, just a bit longer,” he said, after taking a deep breath.
I nodded and followed him, and then we reached the pond. I was familiar with it; it was a local landmark, and still I didn’t recognize it. I’d always approached, as any sane person would, from the other side, from the pathway and the buildings, and the image had been picturesque enough. But from this angle, under the trees, with low branches breaking our line of sight and dipping into the still water to curtain us from the prying gaze of the town and the greenery smell blotting out the asphalt… It was like I’d come to a different place.
Keith observed my expression for a moment and then smiled.
“I like to come here when I want to be alone and think.”
“I can see why. It’s beautiful and so quiet.”
“Yeah. ‘Specially at this time, when you don’t have swinging, crying babies
“I’ll take care of this, kids,” he said. “Why don’t you go make the most of the rest of the afternoon while you can?”
“You sure?” Keith was out of his chair in a second, but he looked equally eager to help cleaning up or to escape the room. Weird. I’d never volunteer to do the dishes of my own volition.
Mr. Brannagh nodded, though, so we thanked him and exited the kitchen. I fully expected to go back to guitar practice, which actually didn’t sound half bad as long as he took off the headphones and played for me to hear, but he hesitated in the corridor. The look he cast to his bedroom’s door wasn’t the most eager thing I’d ever seen.
“So, would you like to go outside?”
“Outside?” A small bout of panic swelled in my chest. “As in, to the mall or the movies or something?”
He met my eyes, then shook his head with a small, dry laugh. “No, of course not. Just outside, to the park or something. If you want. I know a nice view I’d like to show you.”
“Oh.” Okay, no civilized places where we’d run into my school friends. “Well, let’s go then. Is it some kind of Keith-lair or something?”
He snorted, grabbing our jackets.
“You could say that.”
It happened to be close by. Or at least within walking distance. He guided me through winding back streets, away from my own home, from the school, from the commercial area of town, and into a park where children used to play on Sunday mornings. It was Saturday, the afternoon dying and bleeding into the evening, so the place was deserted as we crossed the open space with its picnic tables and multicolored swings.
“Are you cold?” he asked suddenly.
“No, it’s fine. I hadn’t thought we’d be outside at this time, but it’s okay.”
He nodded and climbed a wooden fence that separated the family area from a copse of trees. “Most people never think of spending Saturday night here,” he said, reaching out a hand to help me up.
“Yeah, you’re original. That was clear even before this escapade.” His hand was slender, his long fingers wrapping around my own with a strength I’d not have suspected. His pale skin looked like porcelain under the falling twilight, I realized, but his fingers were calloused from the guitar strings.
Beyond that, though, what left me hesitating and staring into his eyes was the way it fit. It was like my hand had been made to be held in his, completely enveloped, but not swallowed, and I was assaulted by the same sense of rightness I’d had when I heard him speaking my name. The moment stretched for…. I don’t remember how long, because he didn’t pull back and I didn’t let go even when we were on the other side of the fence—I just held on to his hand and his gaze, never letting go until the air grew so thick that I felt that if I didn’t blink I’d suffocate.
In his favor, he didn’t call me out on my odd behavior.
“It’s this way, just a bit longer,” he said, after taking a deep breath.
I nodded and followed him, and then we reached the pond. I was familiar with it; it was a local landmark, and still I didn’t recognize it. I’d always approached, as any sane person would, from the other side, from the pathway and the buildings, and the image had been picturesque enough. But from this angle, under the trees, with low branches breaking our line of sight and dipping into the still water to curtain us from the prying gaze of the town and the greenery smell blotting out the asphalt… It was like I’d come to a different place.
Keith observed my expression for a moment and then smiled.
“I like to come here when I want to be alone and think.”
“I can see why. It’s beautiful and so quiet.”
“Yeah. ‘Specially at this time, when you don’t have swinging, crying babies
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