A red and white gingham cloth is draped lazily across a gentle slope in Central Park. The sun is out and shoulders are bare.
It was Darcy’s idea for a simple picnic and Steve can never say no to her.
She brought fruits, crackers, cheese, and lemonade.
He brought his sketch pad, pencils, and a few charcoals.
A large straw hat keeps her skin safe from becoming cherry red like her lips.
He switches focus: drawing the bejeweled dragon fly pin on her hat.
She lifts a strawberry to his lips and he nibbles on it without thinking.
“Whatcha drawing, Stevie?”
“Hm?” He tilts his pad away from her, finishing the sketch with a few lazy strokes of his pencil.
Darcy mock pouts at his secrecy.
“Trade you a look for a kiss,” Steve said, his smile one of sin—just the way she likes it.
“Such a hard bargain.” Darcy quips, tilting her head with a smirk.
Their lips touch innocent at first. Darcy sighs into it and Steve takes it as his queue to deepen the kiss, slanting his mouth across hers.
His drawing of her is forgotten resting on the cloth beside them.
Time and the spin of the stars stand still. Only the light breeze reminds them of their public location.