6 chapter 6

Monday in the breakroom at Met transit. Ros stands at the counter pouring herself a cup of coffee. Nickola enters, retrieves her lunch from the refrigerator and sits at the table closest to the counter. "Ros you will not believe the weekend I had," she says plainly.

"Que pasa?" she says interested. She grabs two creamers, a few packets of sugar, a stirrer, and sits at the table with Nickola.

"I bumped into Miles, the guy from Midas, at Stop N Shop and he asked me for my number."

"Did you give it to him?" Ros says pouring the creamer into the coffee.

"Yes. But earlier Herring helped me clean out my shed and asked me to have dinner with him."

"Really!" she gasp. "What did you say?" she empties the sugar into the cup.

"I said I don't know. I can't just go to dinner with him."

"Why not?" Ros stirs the coffee.

"Because he's Vanessa's stepson."

"Oh right," she blows into the cup before taking a drink. "It's dinner right?" she shrugs.

"It's never just dinner," Nickola opens her bag and pulls out a sandwich and a bag of chips.

"Did you tell Vanessa?"

"No!" Nickola says almost shouting. "Worst part is I'm actually considering having dinner with him," she opens the bag of chips.

"I would," Ros says with a smug smile.

"Ros you're not helping," Nickola frowns. "Miles is closer to my age anyway. And he understands what it's like having a child."

"Baby mama drama," Ros takes another swallow of her coffee.

"You don't know that. Some people co-parent well. It's been so long since I've been on a date," she sighs and takes a bite of her sandwich.

"Mira, give it a try with Miles," Ros gets up from the table and pushes her chair in. "But keep Herring around just in case."

"Ros!" Nickola smiles and rolls her eyes. Ros smiles and shrugs her shoulders before disappearing.

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End of the work day. Nickola checks her phone as she walks to her car.

"Nickola!" a voice calls out.

"Hey. What are you doing here?" she walks up to the driver's side of the car.

"I thought we could go for a walk," Herring says.

"Where at?" she looks around the parking lot.

"There's a park not too far from here."

She checks the time on her watch. "I gotta get Zara by six," she says unsure.

"You could follow me there. It won't take long."

"Oh...okay sure," she says. What am I doing?

When they arrive the park is almost empty. There are a few children playing on the playground and a few people running. The sun has begun its descent and the temperature is fairly warm for a New England summer evening. They start walking along the footpath. There is a small space between them as they walk. Herring has on a white Gucci shirt and white sneakers. The dark wash jeans that he's wearing have a ribbed design over the knees. His dark brown hair is neatly styled with the front combed back. The sun makes his skin appear incandescent.

"How was your day?" he ask.

"It was okay. Yours?"

"Just okay?"

"Ask me on Friday and I'll have more to say," she smiles. "What about yours?" Nickola says.

"I found out my flat will be ready on Thursday."

"That's cool. Did you have an apartment in London?"

"I did. I lived with two others."

"Were they models?"

"One is still a model the other a dancer." They stop and sit at a bench near a pond taking in the stillness of the atmosphere. Herring plays with his necklace taking the longer chain between his chin and lips. This causes Nickola to stare at his face. How can someone's nose and lips be this enticing? Being with him feels so strange yet comfortable. Alone time with Wes was pretty nonexistent. She never understood why he didn't spend time with her. The fact that they lived together and saw each other daily was hardly a good excuse. The serenity of the park is refreshing. Nickola couldn't remember the last time she felt such peace. Two little boys are kicking a soccer ball nearby. She begins to feel sad as she watches them. She had always wanted two children, a boy and a girl. Having another baby with Wes didn't seem wise. She often felt like a single married mother carrying the responsibility of provider and care taker. One of the boys mistakenly kicks the ball in their direction. Herring kicks the ball around a few seconds before kicking it back to them.

"You play soccer?" she ask.

"You mean football," he corrects her offering a small smile. "Yes, my mates and I played after school practically every day. Why is it called football? They don't even use their feet."

"I don't know. We should just start calling it soccer since all they do is run around socking each other." They both chuckle at how silly that sounds.

"What made you start modeling?" she ask.

"Initially it was a way to get out of going to school."

"Wow!" she says with disbelief.

"I was fifteen," he says defensively. "In the beginning it was a lot of waiting. I'd go to a casting call and stand in line for hours along with hundreds of other boys. After some time I got use to it and started to enjoy it. Looking back I never thought this is what I would be doing."

"And look at you now. You're the face of fragrances and clothing," she says looking him up and down. "What do you like most about it?"

He takes in a breath, "I get to travel to different places and meet a lot of different people."

"Mostly women I'm sure."

"Men also. There's this preconceived notion that I can have my pick of any woman because of my job. It's not like that. Besides I recall not receiving an answer about having dinner with a certain someone," he looks into her dark brown eyes the sun making them appear much lighter.

"Uh..."she is at a loss for words.

"Your eyes are so pretty," he wets his lips and Nickola blushes.

"Thank you," she laughs to herself focusing on the ducks in the pond.

"What?" he says confused.

"Your accent. It's cute," she stands up and looks at her watch.

"Americans and their fascination with the British accent," he says. They walk back to the cars.

"I'm glad you came," Herring says holding Nickola's car door open creating a barrier between them.

"It was nice. I don't have many quiet moments."

"I enjoy your company," his eyes analyzing every inch of her face.

"You're not too bad to be around either," Nickola says as his gaze burns through her. "I better go now. Don't wanna be late picking up Zara," she breaks eye contact.

"See you soon," he says carefully closing the door as she gets in. She smiles and waves at him as she drives away.