Sunday Night Stroll by Tara Darland

It was Sunday night and she didn't want to go home. They were already out , and being together was more enjoyable than preparing for the drudgery of school that would plague her the next morning.  The sky was clear so she took him to her favorite spot, a nature-laden canal on the edge of marshes that reached out to the bay.  From this place, they could see the glimmering lights on the Dumbarton Bridge and industrial buildings of Oakland.  On that clear night, they could see lamps shining like beacons directly across the San Francisco Bay.  Spur of the moment, she got out of the car and he followed. He climbed over the looming, six-foot-tall fence; and coerced her into following him, totally ignoring the "no tresspassing" signs.  In the dark, they walked down the graveled path beside the wide canal and made small talk.  The only light came from sentinel sodium street lamps. It was so dark they could only make out the shapes of the animals and plants. Though they could hear the ducks quack and move through the water. She stopped in her tracks and tilted her head back to rest on his shoulder and chest. He looked up too, and they gazed at the stars.  He pointed out constellations and took her hand in his to point and guide her vision.  The air was crisp and chilly, but the closeness of that moment warmed them. She turned around to face him and stared into his eyes. They were the kind of eyes that people get lost in: shifting between green and blue, kind, but mysterious. Slowy, she raised her hand to his face and then went in for the kill. She pushed her icy fingers down his collar, shocking his senses. His squirming and wiggling made her giggle. To regain his trust, she took hold of his hand briefly and they walked back to the fence. After boosting her over the wall and climbing across himself, he walked to his car and like a gentleman opened the door for her. Parked outside her house, they talked, had staring contests and drew hearts on the fogged windows. As it was time for him to leave, he walked her to the door and they shared an awkward, stiff hug. She could tell he wanted to do more than embrace, but was holding those emotions back. That Sunday night, they were friends and not lovers.