Glancing up, I said, “Thanks.”
He removed his arm. “You’re welcome, Winter.”
I loved how my name sounded when he said it. It sounded delicious like he savored my name before it rolled from his tongue.
When I was done with my hotdog and Coke, Austin held out his hand for my wrapper and bottle. I handed them over. He proceeded to throw them away for me in spectacular fashion. He did this running hook shot, lobbing the trash into the black wired receptacle. He beamed. He was playful, passionate, filled with life. Without doubt, Austin lit up my heart.
The casual tone of the evening along with our dinner accommodations made me chuckle quietly. I was surprised. In a million years I would not have guessed this by the man who drove a car which was more money than most people make in a year. My presumption for dinner, someplace fancy, snobbish even, but nothing about Austin gave the impression of snobbish.
“What?” He was watching me.
I shook my head. “Nothing, this is fun,” I replied.
Austin glanced at his watch. I noticed it was a Movado watch before he grabbed my hand. “Come on, the night is still young.”
The city was beautiful, but even in such beauty it was hard to keep my eyes from Austin. His enthusiasm was catching as he talked. He pointed out things he wanted me to see, like the front window display of an art gallery and the architecture of some of the buildings along our way. He was paying a small fortune to park his car, but he wanted to give me a tour of the city without the car. I admitted I very rarely venture into the heart of city. It was like a living breathing entity of its own. The sound, lights, smells, all seemed to pulse through the very heart and veins of the city.
Austin was a city boy. His parents lived on Park Avenue however he had a loft apartment on Fifth Avenue, he explained. “It’s an old brick building, an old factory actually. It’s been renovated, turned into apartments for those artsy yuppie types.”
“Are you an artsy yuppie?” I asked in a teasing tone.
In response, he shrugged his shoulders, followed by a thousand watt smile. He asked me where I was from, not seeming at all surprised when I told him I came from a rural community with farm land, wheat fields as far as the eye could see, herds of corn fed cows and a pig farm or two. I guessed Dane had already dished.
“You haven’t lived until you smell a feed lot.” I joked. Austin chortled.
We paused for a moment. We were standing on a corner, listening to a quartet of men playing strange homemade instruments with harmonizing sounds. When the music stopped, he threw some money into their donations bucket then pulled my hand in more of a hurry now.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You will see,” he returned.
We walked a little farther, coming to another stop. I knew we were standing at the entrance to a School. It was at One Hundred Fifty-Five West Sixty-Fifth Street, between Broadway and Amsterdam Avenue. Austin had let go of my hand. We were standing completely still, but I was aware he was actually studying me while I gazed at the building in front of me.
“Here is where I attend school,” he announced.
It took me a moment to process what he was saying. I felt my face fly into surprise as the words clicked within my brain. “You go to Juilliard?” I asked in astonishment.
Austin gave a low chuckle to my response. “Come on.”
Taking the lead, he grabbed my hand again. He was dragging me behind, my hand intertwined in his. Pulling me, we bounded up the stairs. We went into a large hall, then theater. There on stage, people were practicing a play. The background, the stage sets were extraordinary. It was a winter scene all done with what looked like real snow. The trees were covered in white while flakes fell from above, hitting the actors below. They had found a way to capture the perfect winter scene, even down to a snow covered rod-iron bench and an icy pond with icicles glistening.
“Wow.” I was amazed.
Austin looked at me quite serious then proceeded. “I thought about what you said to me last night, about your name and how you should have been named after a more beautiful season like summer. How it made more sense than a cold and snowy season. You talked about yourself, your name, as if it were plain, as if you were plain and not at all warm or pleasing. You talked as though summer was somehow more beautiful than winter. I was surprised you do not see yourself as others do, as I do.” He met my eyes again with those penetrating blue-gray eyes of his, were they cerulean color now? “I thought you should see how beautiful winter can be. You, your name, your warmth, and your beauty outshines even this.” Austin pointed to the picture perfect winter scene on stage as he spoke. I swallowed hard.
I could feel my cheeks flush red. I had to look down, finding my boots. I bit at my bottom lip trying to find the words to speak. I knew could not control my blush. In fact, I was aware my face blushed hotter. It was then I felt the tip of Austin’s finger run down along the surface of my flaming cheek.
“Uh,” I muttered. His finger, his touch, turned me to mush. I may have been the consistency of grape jelly.
“You are beautiful, never forget that,” he whispered.
“Um, thanks.” I managed. Still shocked in this moment and unsure of what to really say. Thanks, was the best I could come up with but it somehow failed the moment.
Out of the two of us, Austin’s beauty far surpassed mine. He was tall and lean standing six foot two. I knew this because I asked him how tall he was when I was forced to look up at him in order to see his face. I also took every stolen moment I could to consider his proportions. Trust me, when he wasn’t looking I studied every square inch of Austin Carlyle.
Austin had taken off his leather coat. He shrugged out of it then casually flung it over the back of a theater seat. I observed this, his movements. His forearms were strong, the tendons, cords, curve and cut to the muscles showing as the sleeves of his sweater were pushed up to his elbows. His dark blue sweater clung to his muscular chest. From what I could tell, Austin’s proportions seemed to exist within perfection. I decided he was not overly muscled, not like a steroid ridden body builder but cut, athletic looking.
He took my coat then placed it over his. He moved with accuracy in a smooth fluid motion, he stood with assurance. In truth, Austin was filled with confidence, not smugness or any sense of being better than anyone else, just a quiet confidence which set you at ease, made you feel safe.
Austin reached out and took a hold of my hand. He made small intricate circle-like motions with his thumb on my thumb. My breath hitched. He gazed at me; he was studying my face again. The way he stared at me made me feel like he was looking for something in particular or maybe he had already found it. He smiled as if satisfied or content. I wondered what he had been thinking.
Austin’s eyes flashed, glittered in the dimming light of the hall like blue sapphire jewels. His free hand reached out toward me. I realized he was brushing my hair over my right shoulder, allowing his hand to linger within the strands.
“What?” I asked. I was feeling a little more than self-conscious.
Austin shook his head. “You really have no idea, do you?”
“No,” I admitted, completely baffled and wondering what he was talking about.
Austin gave me a look, reminiscent of an angel. I became aware of the beating of my heart pounding in my throat. He let go of my hand then brushed the back of his fingers down my cheek. My skin ignited.
“How breathtaking you are,” he answered.
I was surprised Austin found me to be beautiful. I, being pale skinned with caramel colored long hair which lies straight, flat, seem to blend in coloring, not stand out. My completion is clear, so I guess you could say by this I am sort of pretty, but I lack the kind of self-confidence which beautiful women hold. I am not lean or tall, petite actually, only being five foot five and my figure is fine, but in no way the statue like presence of a real beauty. I can find the need to speak up if I must, and I do have a temper, but for the most part I am q
uiet, introverted. In fact I am not very exciting at all. I am quite content tucked away somewhere reading a good book and not at all content being out on the town with friends.
“I’m not,” I whispered, glancing down at the floor, finding my boots again.
“Winter,” Austin called, his fingers still lingering on the flaming surface of my cheek. I looked up. “Trust me, you are.”
What do I have, what can I offer and what about me has sparked Austin’s interest? I am far less interesting than most, never traveling anywhere except here to New York. I have no sense of mystery. I am not confident; never having any real experience with boys, men or romance, and I know with no doubt Austin could be with anyone.
“What are you thinking about, Winter?”
I just shook my head. “Nothing.”
“Tell me,” Austin pressed.
“It’s just….” I bit my bottom lip. Austin watched my mouth seemingly fascinated. “I’m not very interesting,” I admitted with a grimace. “So I guess I don’t see what’s so breathtaking about a girl who tends to blush, stammer and stutter in your presence—” Austin’s lips stopped me, skimming the surface of his lips ever so softly on my lips. I froze. It wasn’t a kiss, but it stopped me cold. I swallowed hard then continued softly, “And being awkward is also listed among my non interesting attributes.”
I could not believe what I was admitting, but Austin could see the truth of my words for himself.
“Your blush is beautiful, sweet, sexy.” He whispered against my cheek. I felt the warm gust of his breath ripple over my skin before he pulled back. He was gazing at me, serious. “I can see we are going to need to work on a few things.”
“We? Work on a few things?”
“Yep,” he said. His lips twitched. He was trying hard to maintain a serious expression.
“Um, so…what are we working on?”
“Convincing you of all the things Winter is, and showing you all the things Winter is not.” He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering bright brilliant blue. “And I think we are going to start with….” He had an impish look.
I stood there baffled, waiting. Numerous people scattered about while working on some of the stage sets. Actors and actresses came and went, finally clearing off the stage, leaving what looked like a work crew behind. Something banged with a thwack followed by a thud.
I finally asked, “With?”
“This,” he said, pulling me into his arms and….
Dancing?
We were dancing down the aisle while people worked on stage. Talking, music, and laughter filled the stage, filled the hall, and then seeped from my senses. I was laughing. I wasn’t embarrassed. I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t self-conscious, and I wasn’t thinking and over thinking. I was with Austin, in his arms. I wished to be nowhere else in the world.
“Austin, what are you doing?”
“See,” he said quite assured, “you’re not stuttering.”
And for once, even though I was shocked and more than surprised, he was right. I wasn’t stuttering. Then Austin twirled me, I spun. He dipped me. My head shot back. My hair brushed the floor. My chest pushed out. My leg inched up his hard muscled thigh before Austin slowly pulled my body back up. His hand was spread firmly between my shoulders while his other hand held onto mine.
“I would not call that awkward, Winter.”
Why Austin would be interested in me was somewhat of a mystery. But one mystery I was willing to unravel. While I did not believe in happily ever after, true love or forever, something about Austin tested my well-learned notion of there is no such thing as a fairy tale. I looked deeply into his eyes and decided there was something about this man, the way he made me feel.
Don’t be stupid, Winter.
When life gives you such a wonderful gift, it would be more than insane to pass up the chance to live within a fairy tale, and maybe I could find my happy ending.
Chapter Three
FIRST KISS
I could see my breath billow out in front of me like a roll of smoke as we walked over Gapstow Bridge in Central Park. The view south was magnificent. Steel, glass, and concrete buildings rose like modern monuments, towering behind the backdrop of frozen trees with their branches long and twisting. Standing silent, I glanced to the north to find people were in motion, gliding with ease over the ice topped rink. Their colorful winter cloths mixed into a perfect multicolored quilt against the white surface upon which they skated.
Austin and I stood atop the stone span of the bridge which curved gracefully over the narrow neck of the pond. Snow lightly covered the ground, the tops of the stones as well as the pond. Portions of the pond were frozen solid while darker sections of water showed melted through the pristine white, which had once covered the entire span of the pond. This place was beautiful, magical.
Austin gazed at me. He was smiling tenderly, obviously reading the expression on my face.
“This is so beautiful,” I commented.
Austin leaned in close. I felt his breath as he whispered against my skin. “I thought you would like it here.” I could feel the warmth of him when he grabbed my glove covered hand, placing it in his. “This is one of my favorite spots.”
Austin removed his thumb from the encasement of his leather glove. He pushed up the lower edge of my glove to expose the inner skin of my wrist to his warm thumb. The sensation of this, his touch, sent a chill of pleasure over my body. Feeling my body quiver, he smiled his most breathtaking smile. In this moment he rendered me breathless. I looked into his eyes, into the clear never-ending blue-gray. I felt like I could see forever; see into the essence of Austin. I was infinitely lost in the glittering color, swimming within the cool clear liquid blue of his eyes. They are the eyes of my love, my life.
To know with no doubt I loved Austin, this only our third date, may seem unreasonable to some, but in truth I loved him from the first moment I saw him leaning casually against the wall in the restaurant. It was hard to pull my eyes from him that night and more than impossible to pull my eyes from him in this moment.
Austin’s hand dropped from mine. He wrapped both arms around my waist, pulling me to him. He bent down, his face inches from mine, locking his gaze upon me. He held me there, close, warm, allowing his warm breath to bathe my lips. Austin kept me suspended within the burning need to kiss him. I wondered what he was waiting for. He was not nervous. I was surprisingly not nervous, and then I experienced the warmth of his mouth, of his lips pressed to mine.
Feeling our lips move together as though we were meant to be, as though his lips were only meant for mine, I closed my eyes. An emotion of right washed through me. This was easy, I realized. There was no apprehension of the first kiss but only knowledge of Austin with his perfect lips shaped softly on mine. Heat surged through my body as if being hit, struck, walloped. Maybe Austin had hesitated because he knew once we kissed there was no going back for either of us. His arms grasp my body. He had clutched me tighter, pulled me into him with a possession.
In this moment I realized, even through all the layers of our winter clothes, I could feel his body pressed hard against mine. My lips parted and with a breath, Austin’s tongue caressed mine softly, slowly, deeply. I wanted to rip the heavy coat from my body and from his so I could feel every line of him as we kissed. The thought was almost overwhelming, but I dismissed it with the knowledge I needed to control this impulse. We were in a public place. This was our first kiss. I was not the kind of girl who acted so impulsive, so out of control with such sinful thoughts. After all, I had only kissed two boys in my entire life.
As we kissed, my hands found Austin’s face but the feeling was muted through the wool gloves. I had to feel his skin, to touch his face. I had wanted to touch his face the first time I saw him. The need to touch him raged through me. The muted sensation from my gloved hand would not give me satisfaction. I threw my arms around Austin’s neck, allowing my left hand to find my right hand while I kissed him. I yanked my right glove off
and placed my naked hand to his perfect face.
Austin moved his arms from my waist. He pulled off his gloves then placed his two free hands to my face. He must have been thinking the same thing. We needed to touch each other’s flesh. In the next moment, Austin picked me up. Clearing the snow from the top of the bridge with one hand, he swiped a clear spot and sat me down. He moved between my legs, wrapped his arms around me and kissed me breathless. I’m unsure how long we kissed, but it wasn’t long enough. When he stopped kissing me, he pulled back slightly. He was gazing at me. His right palm was pressed against my cheek in a softness which implied possession.
“What?” I asked, breathless.
He sighed. “We are going to be late.”
I felt my mouth turn into a pout. I was nowhere near done kissing him yet. “Late for what?”
He ran his finger over the line of my pouting bottom lip. “You will see,” he replied softly. Austin lifted me up, sat me down so my feet hit the ground and firmly took my hand. “Watch your step.” He led me around an icy spot then over the bridge.
Austin drove us to a small theater in the East Village. A long line of people were standing outside, waiting to get in. He took my hand, helped me from his car then pulled me through the crowds. We were brushing past a long line of people.
“Um,” I muttered. “The line?”
To my surprise, we were already at the main entrance. “Austin, welcome,” a tall brunette said with a cheerful expression. “Go on in.” She gestured with her hand.
“Thanks, Elena,” he returned. We continued inside. Austin was still holding onto my hand, leading the way. We took the stairs then found a balcony area which was roped off. “Come on.” He pulled the red velvet rope down.
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