Page 84 of The Breaking Pointe
He shoves the spoon back into the small cup, stinging me with his eyes.
“You’re a knockout on the eyes, to start. Like a beautiful mural,” he says.
“What does that have to do with anything?”I roll my eyes, huffing as I eat a big scoop of the sundae.
“You’re smart,” he adds, finding more things to say, “and you’re funny, too—maybe in a sarcastic, satirical kinda of way, but I’m into it,” he continues, not letting up.“And you’re caring.You like to understand people and things, which some might say I could use a lesson on.That has to be significant to some degree.”
“That’s sweet, Cole, but out of all of those things, you forgot the most important one.” I humble myself.
He’s not blind to what words can make a woman fall victim to charm.But I’ve been careful not to allow my insides to get jumpy over minor compliments. And I will continue to do so. I want to help him, but that doesn’t exactly make me girlfriend material or fitting for his life.
“And that is?”
“I’m complicated, Colton,” I hastily come back at him. “I can be complicated.That deflects from everything you mentioned. I have standards that cause problems. That’s why it’s safer to guard myself.”
“So, you have boundaries put in place that are there to distinguish how much access someone has to you.That’s rational, and I’m not a stranger to it, Noelle. Getting a date with you at all was the first thing that could’ve told me that,” he says, unbothered by my excuses.
He’s given me more than enough reasons to assume that none of my chatter is gonna make him want to leave me alone. Instead, he is very willingly enjoying me challenging him,likeitfuelshisjets.I’mrunningoutofwaystomake
him understand that he’d be miserable with me.Anyone would.
“Look, I know you don’t have this deep, enthralling trust in me.I can accept that.And it’s a possibility that I don’t meet those standards you have. But, Noelle, eventually, you have to let somebody in. Figuring someone out on day one is objective, and I’m not asking you to know all of the answers,” he says, picking his spoon back up as he smiles at me. “But what fun would figuring each other out be if it didn’t take time?You wouldn’t be here with me if you didn’t agree a little, tiny bit.”
Stop being right, Kennedy. Stop being right and stop being so whimsical and appealing. It’s not helping me.
“It’s not like I’m royalty.”I sarcastically smile.
“You should feel like you are. Because to me, you’re way more compelling than any other woman that I’ve met.At least in my lifetime,” he says, straight faced and forward.
To that, I can’t prepare anything to say. I’m not going to try. For once, I’ll try acceptance.
We continue walking, and then, between us, Colton’s pocket begins lighting up, sounding off a few notifications. Colton begins rummaging through his pockets, pulling out his phone as we continue.His eyes scan whatever the mystery notification is, but the warm, happy feeling is no longer emerging from him.His eyes become low, and his mouth, tight and pursed as he shoves his phone back into his pants pocket.
“Everything okay?”I ask, still watching his demeanor become dry.
He shakes his head quickly. “I’m fine,” he says, following up with a disingenuous smile.
Looping my arm in his, I gently hug his arm, sensing the lie he just fed me. He doesn’t have to talk, but I just wonder if I could be able to fix it. It must be bad if it’s changing his entire mood.
Looking ahead of us, I notice we’re getting closer and closer to a park.The more steps we take, the more I can put my sights together and see that there’s a slide, swings, a merry-go-round, and other little toys and trinkets.
“Look at that. I haven’t seen a merry-go-round in ages, or a roundabout, I dunno what New Yorkers call it,” I say, tossing the empty cup in a close-by garbage can, sending a used napkin behind it. I point to the object in question as we walk toward it.
Colton’s head whips in the direction of my finger.“Oh yeah.Merry-go-round.I haven’t either,” he says in disbelief. “I’ve been here before. That has to be new.”
I step in front of him, stopping his stride.“Play a game with me.”
He forces himself to halt, looking straight down at me, gripping my shirt.
“A game…?” he partly stutters. I nod.
“You’re it!”I poke his chest before leaping away from him, running to the merry-go-round.
Icanhearhisfootstepsgainingonme,butjustintime, I jump onto the spinning circle, grabbing whatever metal handlebars are open for my reach.He catches up with me, taking one of the bars into his hand and catching up with the speed, running around the circle, spinning me as he does, initiating a laughing fit from the pit of my stomach.
Finding the right timing, he jumps onto the platform, joining me so we can spin together.
We both grab onto each other, his fingers tightly gripping different parts of my clothing as he stumbles and falls backward, pulling me with him.
