New York City
Ch.1 - the park bench
It’s fall. Late afternoon. The sun is hiding behind the clouds, but a few rays are struggling to poke thru. Caitriona is sitting on a bench in Central Park, coffee at her feet, reading the newspaper, as the cool crisp air blows thru her long, wavy hair. She feels a chill and pulls her scarf up around her neck. Unaware of anyone else around her, she is utterly engrossed in an article about the life and times of Gena Rowlands. With her head down, she doesn't notice a gentleman sitting at the other end of the bench. Suddenly, a gust of wind blows a section of her newspaper to the ground, and the handsome stranger picks it up.
"Here you go, lass, you seemed to have dropped this. Or rather, the wind wanted us to meet," he says with a sheepish grin.
She gives him a smirk, with a bit of side eye. "Has that line ever worked before?” Caitriona asks, grinning herself while noticing his piercing blue eyes and curly auburn locks.
Sam sighs deeply. Takes a moment. Suddenly fumbling with his words. He takes her in. They’ve only just met yet he can’t help but stare deeply into her beautiful eyes, those rosy cheeks, porcelain skin, and those lips that were just moistened by her tongue.
He finally finds his voice. “Allow me to start over by introducing myself.”
“Hi. My name is Sam.” He takes her hand, which is warm to the touch, as he imagined it would be, and she suddenly feels an electricity she's never felt before.
Suddenly shy, her face begins to flush, turning her cheeks an even more rosy pink.
“I'm Caitriona, nice to meet you.”
His accent. She recognized it right away from her travels abroad as a model. It was her favorite. Gave her the weak in the knees feeling. She was thankful she was already sitting down.
“Are you cold?” Sam asks, as he continues to hold her hand. Possibly a bit too long, but neither one of them seems to be pulling away.
“Not anymore,” Cait says in almost a whisper. This is new, she thinks to herself. She prides herself on being outspoken and bold and sure of herself, but Sam has completely taken her off guard.
A strong breeze beckons, and Caitriona’s hair begins to swirl around. Sam subconsciously reaches over and removes some whips of hair from off her face, and tucks them behind her ear.
“Thank you, kind sir” she says with a coy smile.
“As beautiful a hair as ye have, ye have an even more beautiful face & I keep meaning to stare at it,” Sam says, suddenly shy.
“You are quite the smooth talker,” Cait retorts, secretly hoping for more.
“Aye, I dinna mean to make ye uncomfortable, I just canna help myself.” His eyes are soft.
Caitriona suddenly feels a warmth permeating throughout her body.
“So tell me a little about yourself, mr smooth talker,” asks Cait, coyly, slightly breathless, never wanting this moment to end.
“How about I take you out to dinner tonight and ye can ask anything of me.”
Cait takes a beat, not wanting to answer too quickly, or seem too eager, but at the same time wanting nothing more.
“I’d like that very much.” She says.
“Great!” Sam responds excitedly. Like a giddy, little kid who was just told he was going to the candy store. Almost a little too excitedly as he squeezes her hand even tighter. “I know this quaint little wine and tapas bar in the west village, if that’s to your liking?” He doesn’t even care where they eat, so long as he gets more time with her.
“It’s a date.”