Before The Last Grain

Chapter 6

A few days later, Natasha is leaving rehearsals at a fast pace, her book of symphonies clutched under the arm, talking on the phone with Ruth.

"I know my meeting with Stark is tomorrow," she breathes out, stepping onto the busy sidewalk.

She halts when her eyes fall on James standing by the side of the road. He is casually but elegantly dressed in dark jeans and shirt with rolled-up sleeves. He takes off his shades and smiles as he slowly approaches.

She releases the breath she was holding. "Ruth, I'll have to call you back, ok?"

"Hello, Natasha," he says. "I hope you won't take my waiting here the wrong way."

She blinks. "Not at all. Only surprised. I thought you were back in Boston."

"I have a couple of exhibitions to go to, and some meetings, that are keeping me in New York for the next week. I'm staying at a hotel in Manhattan."

She nods. "Does Steve know you're here?"

James cracks a slightly devilish smile. "Not yet. I'm not sure Steve would see this with a good eye." He pauses and glances around with a more light-hearted demeanor. "Anyway, I haven't had lunch yet and I'm not exactly a local. Perhaps you could suggest a good place to try." He waits for a response, but getting none, smiles sheepishly. "Or just a walk. I don't have bad intentions — I'd just like to get to know you a little."

She nervously rubs the corner of her eyebrow. There is no harm in having a chat, right? And she has no reason to hurt his feelings unfairly. "Sure. I guess I have time for a walk."

"Great," he says and politely gestures for her to take the lead.

She grins a little awkwardly and gets moving.

They first walk down the avenue in absolute muteness, finding comfort in the surrounding city noises to fill up the uncomfortable silence. Their urge to initiate a friendly talk is held down by the apprehension to mess it up. What are even the right words in such a situation? There is no book or guideline to handle it right.

James' eyes sneakily wander over to her as they walk.

"Working on new pieces?" he asks after clearing his throat. He points at her partition book.

"Yeah. Nothing conclusive, though."

He nods. "I know what it's like. For me, it usually means my brain is louder than my heart. I can only paint again after I've quieted my thoughts."

She turns pensive, reflecting on his words. "Yeah, I guess. Does it happen to you a lot?"

He shrugs. "Sometimes," he trails off and smiles. "But not at the moment."

She raises an eyebrow, almost numb. How can he have a mind of steel at such complicated times?

"Why not?" she asks, torn between amazement and mild judgment.

He looks at her closely. "Because I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be in my life. Right now."

His piercing blue eyes seek a breach through her armor. She pauses as he smiles and resumes walking.

Twenty minutes later, hopping from one casual conversation to another, they arrive at Bethesda Fountain. They stopped on the way for hot-dogs and some soda.

"Ok, now...if you could only choose one to watch for the rest of your life, which one would it be?"

They have been discussing their favorite movies and he managed to narrow down her list to two: City Lights or Singin' In The Rain.