Angie, a live-in-the-now singer-songwriter on the cusp of fame, sweeps Mike, a proper Mama's boy and a structural engineer by day, off his feet the moment they shake hands.
They can't deny the chemistry between them, so they start with a boom. What'...
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▪️Saturday, January 3rd, 2018▪️
▪️Seattle, WA▪️
The ocean smell intensifies as we walk up to the fish tossing stand at the Pike Market.
"Sorry, folks, too late." The guy in a white apron that covers him almost to his ankles packs the last of the fish away.
The stalls around are emptying out. Even though the weekend was so full of sunshine, it's not a high tourist season. I suspect we used up all the non-cloudy days Seattle produces in January that drew the locals out to the coast in droves. We are two of a handful of people still around. Checking out the market was on Mike's agenda and taking a picture of the employees tossing fish would've been exciting, but anything with Mike around is exciting.
"What's next?" I re-capture Mike's hand.
He lets the disappointed expression go, and a corner of his lips curls up. "Back to the hotel to warm up?"
"And by warm up you mean?" I cock an eyebrow at him.
"What would you like for it to mean?" He swings our hands.
"Maybe we try the bathtub and see if it's big enough for two?" I say. His eyes light up. "Then order room service and spend the rest of the time pretending we can repeat it tomorrow?"
The sparks in him dim. "I'm game for the first two, but you know I suck at pretending."
"I'll pretend for both of us." I swing our hands even harder, attempting to shake off his sadness.
Swinging hands has become our signature move. Mike not caring that we seem like two goofballs while doing it is hotter to me than the ridges of his muscles I've gotten on the first name basis with or the sharp haircut that makes him ready for a cover shoot. His mom is good at her job as a hair stylist. I'm sure she's excellent at her job as a mom because Mike is not just a masterpiece of physical beauty. The way he talks about his mom both infuriates me and melts my heart. He cares so much about the people he loves. And he loves his mother and brother. And Ben. And-
"Want to see the pig?" Mike quickens his stride only to halt by the plaque at the statue's feet. "She's been here since 1986."
"Is there a martial arts story related to the pig statue as well?" I tap my foot on the cement and do the head-tilt Mike seems to adore.
Mike's smile lights up the darkening sky. "Not that I'm aware of." He takes a twenty out of his wallet, gives it to me, and points at the slot in the pig.
"It's a piggy bank?" I jump up and down. "A giant piggy bank. Ingenious." I drop the bill into the pig. "I feel like we need to wish for something."
He examines the pig while I retrieve my phone and take another photo of him to join the hundreds I already captured this weekend. I can't ever get enough.
