Not Much to Look At, But He Was Mine

We started uphill to look out over the reservoir at sunset. It was a modest climb, but Kit was breathless by the halfway point, and I found myself slowing down, twisting off on deer paths and coming back to give him time to catch up. He wasn't much for hiking or the outdoors. He wasn't much for sunsets or romantic gestures. He wasn't even much to look at, but he was mine.

At the top, he leaned over with his hands on his denim-clad knees while I stared into the pink and purple swirls of oncoming darkness. "It's great," he said, staring at the ground.

"You're not even looking."

"I'm sure it's great." He sat heavily. I watched him as he raised his eyes to the sky. This was a litmus test of my love for him.

His eyes widened. His jaw went slack. I smiled as he turned to me. "Wow."

"Worth it?" I asked?

He looked back down the hill, then up at the sky. "Yes."

"I'd like to do this more often. With you." I was shy suddenly.

He patted the ground next to him. I leaned over, my head on his shoulder. "I'd like that. How come you never brought me here before?"

I wrapped my arms around him tightly. "I know you don't enjoy the effort."

Kit turned his face to mine. "You were afraid to ask."

"Yes."

"Ask me for more. I know I want to ask more of you. Let's challenge each other."

We watched the sun set and sat under the stars until the ground cooled beneath us. I stood and dusted my pants. "Let's go home," I said.

He took my hands in his. "Together?"

I nodded.

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