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She darted ahead before I could respond, her laughter loud. I caught up, our hands reconnecting amid breathless giggles. We slowed to a stroll again, leaning into each other every few steps as if confirming the other was real. She began to huff out a song about acorns and squirrels.
"Look at us, two grown-ups making up songs about squirrels," she beamed.
"Best song ever," I countered, squeezing her hand.
"Agreed." She stopped, pointing ahead. "Swings!"
Her excitement was infectious. I let her tug me along, the childlike glee in her pull irresistible. She plopped down on a seat at the swing set, kicking off the ground before I could even offer a push.
"Come on, Arnold, your turn!" She was all challenge, her cheeks flushed with fun.
"Okay, okay!" I settled onto the neighboring swing, finding my rhythm. Back and forth we went, higher with each pass.
"Higher than you!" she called out, soaring skyward.
"Impossible!" I kicked harder, the ground seemingly miles below.
"Adonis has wings," she teased, reaching the peak of her arc.
"Angel soars above," I threw back, the wind whooshing past my ears.
Our competitive streak faded into contentment, swings eventually slowing, side glances exchanged between lingering arcs. The park around us blurred into a backdrop, the setting sun painting everything in a golden hue.
"Let's hit the seesaw," Agatha said, mischief dancing in her eyes.
"Sure," I chuckled, though my stomach did a little flip-flop. Seesaws were unpredictable, just like meeting her had been – amazing and a little scary.
We sat on opposite ends, her legs dangling, mine planted firmly to push off. We found a rhythm, up and down, our laughs rising with each lift. She flew up; I came crashing down. Balance was a tricky thing.
"Whoa!" Her side shot up as I hit the ground a bit too hard. The seesaw teetered, out of control.
"Arnold—"
"Agatha—"
Gravity won. We tumbled off, landing in a heap on the soft grass. I caught her eye, and she winked. There we were, sprawled out, two adults who couldn't handle a child's plaything.
"Smooth, Soda, real smooth," she teased, brushing grass off her shirt.
"Part of the charm," I quipped back, helping her to her feet. My heart raced, not from the fall, but from her touch, her smile.
"Come on," she said, taking my hand. "There's a spot by the lake. Perfect for watching the sky do its evening dance."
"Lead the way, Cake." Her nickname felt right on my tongue, the way her hand fit in mine.
We wandered over to the lake, the water reflecting the changing colors above. We sat, contented silence wrapping around us. The world around us softened and melted into pinks and oranges.
"Ever think about what's next?" she asked, head tilted towards the sky.
"Sometimes." I kept my gaze on the water, the ripples like the thoughts swirling in my head. "Travel maybe. Books certainly."
"Books," she echoed, squeezing my hand. "Yeah, I've got dreams too. Big ones."
"Like?"
"Like feeling alive every single day. Making every moment count."
"Sounds perfect." It wasn't just the words that struck me, but the raw hope in her voice. I felt it, too, the possibility of something real and thrilling.
