It was the last day of summer, balmy and bright, and Danny and I were drinking root beer floats outside our favorite soda fountain. Women passed by in skimpy sun dresses and most men walked around shirtless or in tie-dyed tees. Little children alternated between holding their parent's hands and scampering underfoot, filling the park with their giggles and screeches.
Old man Bartholomew watched birds from his usual spot, a tiny window in the brownstone facade of the apartment next door. Watching him swelter made me appreciate my half frozen root beer float all the more, and I sipped it, savoring the sweet creamy coldness.
"Hey, Terri?" Danny asked as he fiddled with his straw. His glass stood on the tiny table between us, empty, dregs of foam coating the sides and bottom.
"Yeah?" I said, glancing up from my float inspection. I liked watching the ice cream bob and melt in the soda.
Danny looked pensive. "Right now, what do you want most?"
I blinked, wondering why he was asking a question like that out of the blue. "Right now?" I thought a moment, but nothing of significance came up. All I could think of was the root beer float and its syrupy sweet goodness. "Enjoying my root beer float."
It was Danny's turn to blink. "Just that?"
Danny lapsed into silent thought as he usually did, and I went back to sipping my float while admiring the scenery. The sky was a rare and deep cloudless blue – my favorite color. Just as I was contemplating where I could find a shirt of the same color, Danny spoke again.
"There's something I want to give you," he said, his eyes boring into mine. His gaze was intense, and so I looked away and focused on the drink in front of me.
"But I'm not done with my float yet," I said, slightly pouting. It was a very good root beer float, and the day was so very hot. I glanced up at him.
"It can wait," he said with a smile, his mesmerizing brown eyes locking with mine. They were the color of sun-filtered root beer.
"Close your eyes," he said.
Danny gave me "the look," and so, with a sigh, I obliged. I sat there for a minute before I felt his presence right in front of me, and I thought it odd that I hadn't heard him get up from his chair. He smelled of cologne and sassafras, and just as I was about to open my eyes and ask him what he was doing, he kissed me.
My eyes flew open as I jerked back in surprise. "What—?"
Danny placed a silencing finger on my lips, and a smile tugged both corners of his mouth. "I'm not done yet," he said before he gently kissed me again.
This time, though, I kissed him back.
AN: Written for the March Writing Challenge Contest over at The Review Game. The prompt was "I'm not done yet." Everyone is welcome to participate; just remember to read and follow the rules. :P Voting starts on the 8th, so if you want to join, you'd better hurry.
I wasn't expecting this to be so... fluffy. XD