ducks

Cherry trees lined the edge of the river that ran through campus. Beautiful, sweet blossoms cascaded down from their branches, creating a light rose tinted pathway where couples would walk together after some dumb date. They'd hold hands and look at each other, laugh maybe, and they would be real laughs.

Greg and Sharon were on a good date. They had met freshmen year in a Post-Colonial literature class, bonded over doing crappy impressions of their German teacher's accent and ended up being the sort of friends to each other whom one calls when they can't sleep. Eventually they decided the other was attractive enough to kiss at this party they went to on Burlington Street during Spring break their senior year. All their other friends went home or to Panama City or to some other random warm place. From there it just seemed to make sense to transition their silly friendship into a romantic one.

"But if you couldn't ever watch Bridget Jones again," started Greg, grabbing Sharon's hand, "Then what lady comedy would you watch on repeat?"

Clasping his hand with both of hers, she smiled, thought for probably too long in regards to her movie preference and settled on Clueless.

"Clueless?" He poked her in the side, kidding.

"Yeah. It's a classic," she said, attempting legitimate justification. "It's a classic nineties film."

Unconvinced, he held her hand again, and they walked, looking ahead, and then to one another. Sharon blushed, and Greg liked it. Sharon had green eyes and light skin; her liquid foundation was Bobby Brown Porcelain. She was thin without being skinny and had soft features, which went against the grain of her, at times, cheeky attitude. The Burt's Bees Rhubarb tinted lip balm she wore daily was the pop of sass that showed her character.

"Paul Rudd's in it!" She couldn't let it go. She really wanted that justification. "Who doesn't love Paul Rudd?"

The answer is of course, no one, because everyone loves Paul Rudd. That smile — his wavy hair, and just enough crows feet to make him look less like a little boy than like a man.

"That's fair," answered Greg. He laughed as he said it. Sharon was so earnest in her hope to convince him of the merits of Clueless. "Everyone does love Paul Rudd, oh and that dude from Scrubs."

"Turk?" she questioned.

"Yeah," he responded. "Turk."

Greg smiled a no-teeth-smile, tightened his hand around Sharon's, then winked at her; the left side of his face scrunched, his mouth opened, and his jaw askew. He had light brown hair, parted to the side, and a beauty mark to the left of his left eye, between his hair line and eyelashes. Five-eleven, and of Scottish and Spanish descent, he had freckles along with a sort of olive complexion.

"I know, and this is why that film is a classic," Sharon explained, "Solid early twenties actors, a clever script, and a weird high school, college, step-brother/step-sister dynamic." She always used her hands to explain, which was hard when holding hands, but she just pretended as if Greg's hand was part of hers, and moved it as if its connection to Greg's arm was natural. "Oh! And the classic nod to Shakespeare's Emma."

"Even if Alicia Silverstone is in it?" Greg joked.

She paused, then responded, "Yes, even if Alicia is in it — Brittany Murphy cancels her out." It seemed as if she was done, but then she added, "And, well, Alicia isn't bad in this, it's everything after."

The pair continued to walk along the river path, and came to the waters edge. A couple of ducks were washing their feet, looking as if they weren't sure if they'd like to take a full dive in. Sharon saw them and wanted a closer look, so they moved to where the ground got marshy, and also ended up looking as if they were about to wash their feet.

"They're so cute," Sharon cooed, then pointing at the baby one said, "I just wanna pick that little boo up and take him home."

 Greg smiled at her, thought of her taking care of a duck, then for a second thought of her taking care of a kid in the future, then he let that thought pass, tucking it away for a later date. They backed away from the edge of the river.

As they came upon on a weird plastic bench covered in cherry blossoms outside the university's art building, Sharon asked, "Is this art?" a twinge of disdain in her voice.

Greg followed after her, saying, "Yeah, I don't know if we're allowed to sit here."

"There's no sign." She paused, "Well, I guess I'm sitting here."

She sat down, crossed her legs toward him, looked up, and beckoned him toward her. "And, you too."