They laid there, one of her legs sandwiched by one of his, one of his arms wrapped around her, one of her arms angled over his chest, her hand on his heart.
"I wanna see Italy," Reese said.
Isabel didn't reply right away. "I don't wanna go there."
"Italy?"
"Yeah."
"Why not?"
He felt her shrug a little. "It's just never really interested me all that much."
This surprised him. "Okay. What about France?"
"Nope."
"Why not?"
"Doesn't interest me, either."
"Okay. So where would you go?"
"England, Ireland, Germany and Greece."
"Why there?"
"Their histories appeal to me."
"The violence in them?"
She hesitated. "No. That's not it."
"Then what?"
"Their passion."
He scoffed at that. "Italy and France lack passion." It was more a question than a statement.
"No. It's different." Her hand fluttered as though to dismiss it. "I want to see England's architecture--Westminster and the Courts of Justice, the Tower. Dickens' house. Shakespeare's. Its countryside. Ireland. Its fields and castles and coast. Germany. All of it. My dad was in Munich several years ago. He loved it. I want to see Dachau and the biergartens."
"You don't drink."
"You don't have to drink to appreciate a group of people sitting outside under the shade of some chestnut trees, everyone enjoying each others' company."
A smile flashed across his face. She could be so snippy sometimes. It amused him. Sometimes.
"Greece. The ruins. The sea. I'm fascinated by all of that stuff. I've yet to see or read anything of Italy or France that compels me to go there." She paused, then asked, "Where else would you want to go?"
"Australia, New Zealand and Russia."
"I'd go to New Zealand with you."
"Yeah? I'd go to Germany with you."
She yawned, started drawing circles on his chest with her index finger. "So what else is on your list?"
"Get a house. Fix it up. Have my own studio. Take a road trip across the U.S., one up the Pacific coast, one up the Atlantic coast." He'd been stroking her arm, sort of absentmindedly. "Get married. Have a couple of kids."
Her fingers stilled, flattened. She splayed her hand over the center of his chest.
His hand kept moving, back and forth, over her forearm. "Nothing like my parents. I don't want a family that big. Two. Maybe three. It'd be nice if at least one of'm were a boy. But I'll take what I can get." He glanced down at her. "What about you? What's on yours?"
She didn't speak.
"Isa?"
Silence, then she cleared her throat. "Finish my book. Travel the U.S."
"Well, maybe we could take a road trip this summer. We could travel up California's coast. I've never seen it."
"I have." It was almost a whisper.
"How long ago?"
She drew in a breath. "Nine. No, ten years ago." Her voice was somewhat shaky.
He didn't notice. "So you won't mind seeing it again."
"No."
"Then we'll do that. Maybe go up to Oregon and Washington State, too, if we have time, plan the trip right."
"Maybe."
This got his attention. "Isabel? What's the matter?"
She shifted, untangled herself from him. Sat up. "I'm not..." Shook her head. "Be right back."
(c) twenty-twelve. jennifer k. griffin, otherwise known as c.c. this publication is the exclusive property of c.c. and is protected under the united states copyright act of nineteen seventy-six and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. the contents of these posts, and any other c.c.-crafted picky post for that matter, may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without c.c.'s consent. all rights reserved.
in other words, steal this, and i will follow you to the depths of hell and the edge of forever and kick your puny, thieving ass. thanks. :]
read about the rest of the gang here.
this was a matlock project. learn about that here.
(215): the good news is that i...
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