The Best is Yet to Come

Sixteen: Noah

"It's traditional to start out with easier questions and get more personal as you go along," Emma explains.

Truth game - seemingly simple and yet incredibly dangerous. I usually try to avoid personal questions but I can't ignore that the game would allow me a free pass to ask Emma any questions that I wanted. And I have so many questions.

Her hand is clasped firmly in mine and I'm thankful that she allows me to hold it. It just feels right to touch her. I yearn to feel more of her, even just to caress her cheek but I remain restrained, reminding myself that there's a fine line between being smooth and being creepy.

As we stroll around the bend, I take in the sights of the pond, trying very hard not to think of the buried memories I held of this place. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. What was I thinking? That I could woo her with ducks?

"I'll go first," she says. "Did you go to college? You seem like the frat boy type." Emma's blue eyes dance with humor.

I release a choked laugh, "I did, but surprisingly, not a frat boy. I roomed with my friend, Chris, for four years and we even moved in together after college." Emma raises her eyebrows, intrigued by my answer. "We've been friends since the first grade," I explain.

"I'm shocked," she says and places a hand over her heart in a mock gesture. "Here, I had visions of you with a keg of beer every weekend and ESPN around the clock."

"Oh, there was still a lot of beer and sports involved, I promise," I laugh.

We continue along the path that wraps around the pond. Emma's dress flows as she walks, the breeze tangling the fabric between her legs. I have a hard time keeping my eyes on the path.

She looks up at me, revealing her face hidden beneath the brim of her hat, "Your turn."

"What's your guilty pleasure?" I ask and she blushes. Oh, this is going to be good.

"I have an addiction to trashy romance novels," she admits, and she bites her lip. I fight to keep my composure, choosing to focus on her pink cheeks instead, the less dangerous of the two.

I laugh. I should have known. "So you're a hopeless romantic, huh? I guess that means that no one will ever compare to Mr.Darcy and all us mortal men should just stop trying, right?"

She giggles, "Darcy's not all he's cracked up to be. Way too moody."

"I'll keep that in mind," I mutter and stare across the pond, watching a couple push a stroller along the path. I'm trying not to look at her, trying not to be weird but it's proving to be more difficult than I thought.

"My turn," Emma say, her fingers twisting with mine, "What's your favorite color?"

"Green" I answer and curse at myself for the unintentional lie. Well, my favorite color used to be green before a certain shade of blue came into my life.

"Yours?" I ask her, and when I glance over, I realize I caught her looking at me. Emma turns away quickly, focusing on the path in front of us. My heart swells.

At least I'm not the only one who can't stop staring.

"You can't ask the same question twice," she reminds me.

A few moments of silence pass as I think of another question, "If you had to spend the rest of your life as an animal, which would you choose?"

"A cat for sure," Emma smiles, "All my cat does is eat, sleep, and poop. He gets to lay in the sun all day and be cuddled all night. Cats have the most relaxing lives."

"But you'd be a pet," I reason. "You'd have to stay in the house all day. Don't you want to go outside and explore? Be free to roam or even fly?"

Emma stops and lets go of my hand, leaving the path to examine the pink flowers planted around a gleaming drinking fountain.

"I think I'd be afraid to fly," she answers, looking over me, "Wouldn't you?" Her floppy hat covers most of her face and I silently will her to come back. She's too far away.

"Not at all," I counter. "I dream of flying. Can you imagine having that kind of freedom? You could go anywhere at any time."

Emma saunters back to the path but passes by me and keeps walking. My hand twitches, achingly empty without hers. I already miss the feel of her and a panicked knot in my throat warns that I'm walking on a dangerous line.

Emma spins around in front of me, walking backwards this time and asks her next question, "What is going to be your next adventure?"

Loving you. I look away and check my watch. Is it noon already?

"Figuring out what to eat," I answer, figuring that's the smarter response. "I'm starving. Can I take you to lunch?" I ask and she smiles, twirling back around to face the path. Her dress lifts up a little when she turns, giving me a better look at her legs.

"Only if you let me pay. I prefer to go Dutch." I'm surprised, I've never once had a date offer to pay. Once the girls found out who I was, there was never any question as to who would be paying. I'm genuinely touched by her offer.

"Fine," I smile, "but next time it's on me."

I notice a faint hint of pink on her cheeks when she catches the meaning of my words. "Fine," she says and crosses her arms, her lips curled in another smile.

"Follow me. I know the perfect place for lunch." I take her hand in mine again, just as an excuse to hold her and lead her up the path and away from the pond.