The breeze that evening was cool, brushing
Fiona's cheeks like a lullaby. She walked the
narrow path between the rose gardens near
the hill, her cardigan wrapped tight around
her. The town was settling down-the lamps
glowing golden, soft footsteps fading
behind her.
She heard his steps before she saw him
No rush. No chase
Just.. footsteps falling in sync with hers
"Running again?" he asked, voice as smooth
as the cello's hum.
She didn't stop. "Not running. Just walking.
He matched her pace, hands in his pockets.
"Can I walk with you?"
Fiona sighed, her heart giving one defiant
thud. "You already are."
A quiet laugh escaped him, and they walked
in silence for a few beats.
Then: "You didn't come Friday.
"I wasn't ready."
"I didn't expect you to be." He glanced at
her. "But 1'Il keep playing.
Fiona stopped. "Why?"
He looked at her, not flinching. "Because
when you finally listen.... I want the music to
be worth the wait."
She swallowed. Hard.
The stars were starting to bloom above
them, and her chest ached--not with pain,
but with that terrifying pull of maybe
She turned toward him slowly. "You don't
know me.'
He smiled, gently. "Not yet. But I'd like to.
Quietly. Kindly."
"And what if I never let you?"
He tilted his head, thoughtful. "Then I'Il still
be grateful i met the girl who walks with
thunderstorms in her eyes."
Fiona blinked, lips parting--no words, no
comeback.
Just her heart betraying her with a soft
flutter.
She turned away quickly. "Let's walk a little
more.'
And he followed-not too close, not too far
be gratetul I met the giri who walks with
thunderstorms in her eyes."
Fiona blinked, lips parting=no words, no
comeback.
Just her heart betraying her with a soft
flutter.
She turned away quickly. "Let's walk a little
more.'
And he followed-not too close, not too far.
Just enough.