Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"You think you're too pretty to help me?" Mariah teased as we strolled side-by-side through Centennial Park.
I glanced over to see her struggling with the oversized picnic basket she'd insisted on packing herself. With an exaggerated roll of my eyes, I reached over and took it from her, lifting it effortlessly.
"You gotta hit the gym, Buckles."
"Whatever," she mumbled.
I followed her lead as she veered toward the south end of the lawn, her eyes scanning for the perfect spot. She finally settled on a quiet patch beneath an oak tree, far from prying eyes. From her tote bag, she pulled out a blanket and began spreading it carefully across the lawn.
"Did you get that from my linen closet?" I asked. It looked oddly similar to the one Tori had crocheted as a gift on my eighteenth birthday.
Mariah froze for a split second, then turned to me with her signature innocent smile. It was the one that always meant trouble.
It was also a smile I could never resist.
She sat down on the blanket, her grin widening as she kicked off her shoes, stretching her legs out in front of her. Mariah patted the seat next to her, signaling for me to sit. Instead, I set the basket down and put my hands on my hips. She wasn't going to get me this time.
"Mariah..." I began, trying to muster some indignation.
Mariah looked up, her eyes wide and sparkling with mock innocence. She tilted her head to the side as if challenging me. Luckily, I wasn't one to back down from a challenge. We had a staring contest that stretched for two minutes before I eventually rolled my eyes.
Defeated, I sat down beside her. "Just make sure you wash it when we're done."
"Fine."
We naturally drifted into people-watching. Couples strolled through the park, some of them likely on first dates. Families sprawled on blankets just like us, savoring their time together, while others stood and watched some of the park's live performers.
Mariah's head came to rest gently on my shoulder, and for a moment, I let it linger before nudging her off and pointing toward the basket. She groaned but didn't argue, rolling her eyes as she leaned over to grab it.
"Are you having a good day so far?" she asked, rummaging through the basket. Mariah pulled out a turkey club for her and a PB&J for me. Even though she said my preferences for sandwiches were childish, she assured me it was made with love. I believed her considering she kept her house stocked with peanut butter just for me.
"I am," I said, taking my sandwich from her. "But good Lord, you should stick to singing. Golf is not your forte."
This was our first official date, and Mariah had planned every detail. Truthfully, I didn't care what we did. All that mattered was that it was just the two of us.
