I stood there, lost in the rain, until she tugged at my hand and we started forward. She. Her. The girl. For what would it be without one. As soaked as me. Ahead. Bolder, one must admit with a sense of chagrin. Younger, it must be said because everything counts and nothing does. Lovely and perfect regardless.The tent lies ahead, reaching into the sky, circusy and colourful, striped, slanted, big. The edges turned up slightly, bulging down and arcing up, water collected in the distended material, water balloons sighing with envy. She glances back at me, catching my gaze for a second. Something glistens in her eye slightly, from the rain probably; but maybe not. My breath catches slightly in my throat. Not the rain.The bench she leads me to is covered by the tent, but only barely. Wind shifts and rain blows in sideways and up and down and we sit there. Staring at each other. Saying little. She makes this expression. As hard to describe as she is. For what adjectives run together to make. "Easy now. Lunch would be fine. And I'll buy, my daddy would skin me alive if he thought I'd let a woman pay. Can you be at The Bistro by one?"The Bistro. One of the hottest restaurants in town, impossible to get into, and outrageously expensive. No way in hell we could get in on short notice, even for lunch."I can, but I doubt we'd get in. How about someplace else?" The Bistro. One. Don't be late."He hung up.I freaked, knowing I didn't have time to get ready, and probably wouldn't be eating there anyway. My dressiest jeans, nice top, white sandals with a two inch heel, minimal makeup. I ran out the door, and was in the parking lot by 12:55.I didn't see him until he took my arm gently. How does he do that?He had on black jeans, well worn black cowboy boots that were highly polished, and a peach short sleeved button up shirt. His hair was neatly woven into a braid and tied with a little leather strap. Wow.He greeted me, guiding me along. We passed a motorcycle and I actually stopped.
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