10

Forrest

An hour after the movie began, I felt the weight of Sienna's head on my shoulder, her gentle breath brushing against my neck. A sense of protectiveness washed over me as I carefully readjusted my position, making sure not to wake her. I settled into a peaceful stillness, content to let her sleep until the movie came to an end.

"Sienna," I murmured once the movie ended, my breath against her ear. Slowly, she stirred, blinking her eyes open in confusion before focusing on my face. A slight blush crept up her cheeks as she realized she had dozed off.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled sheepishly, rubbing her eyes. "I've been at the bakery before sunrise every morning this month."

I chuckled softly and offered her a hand to help her up. "There's nothing to be sorry for. I'm glad you got a little nap in."

"At least I know how the movie ends," she shrugged.

"How many times have you seen it?" I asked.

"I don't know," she thought for a moment, "far more times than I can count. Did you like it?"

"I did," I said, "even more than I thought I would." The movie was enjoyable, but the best part was when a warm and gentle presence fell asleep on my shoulder.

"It's one of my favorites," she said.

"Can I walk you home?" I asked, but I had no idea where home was for her.

"Oh, you don't have to," she waved me off. It was clear that she felt completely secure in her cozy, small town.

"I'd like to," I insisted.

"Okay," she giggled.

"This sweater isn't enough," I told her, my hand grazing the fabric on her back. "Why don't you have a coat?"

"I have one," she laughed, "I'm just terrible at remembering to bring it with me."

"Take mine," I said.

"No, I couldn't," she protested, shaking her head. "Then you'll be cold."

I was already shrugging my jacket off. "I'll be fine," I insisted, draping it over her shoulders. "I run hot anyway."

"I've noticed," she whispered, or at least, that's what I thought she said.

"What was that?" I asked, hoping to clarify.

"Nothing."

She hesitated for a moment before slipping her arms through the sleeves. "Thank you," she whispered, snuggling into my jacket's warmth. A grateful smile, tinged with a hint of bashfulness, graced her face as she spoke. "It smells like you."

I felt a flush creep up my neck and quickly cleared my throat. "I hope that's not a bad thing."

"Not at all," she whispered with a sigh.

Sienna led us down the dimly lit sidewalk, the moon casting its silvery glow upon our path. Our footsteps echoed through the quiet night, accompanied by the soft rustle of leaves under our feet. We made our way in silence, each lost in our thoughts.

As we reached her doorstep, she turned to me, the outline of her face barely visible in the soft porch light. "Would you like to come in for some tea?" There was a hint of uncertainty in her tone.

I nodded, following her into the cozy little cottage, the warmth enveloping me like a comforting hug. She led me to a quaint sitting area by the fireplace, and I settled into a plush armchair, watching as she busied herself in the nearby kitchen. The walls of her living room were adorned with delicate paintings and numerous shelves filled with antique trinkets. A colorful and intricately crocheted blanket, still a work in progress, rested on the polished coffee table nearby.

As she poured the tea and handed me a delicate teacup, our eyes met, and something passed between us. I wasn't sure what it was, I don't think I'd even be able to put a name on it. But it was something. Something significant.

"Thank you," I told her. "For inviting me into not only your home but into your heart. I am but a stranger to you, yet you have shown me such kindness. "

"Oh, you don't need to keep thanking me, Forrest," she said, setting her teacup down on the small table beside her. "I think you'd do the same, for me, if I were to move to your big city."

I grinned at her comparison. "Well, of course, I would. Have you ever been?"

Sienna shook her head. "No way," she said, "and I have zero interest in visiting."

"Why? If you don't mind me asking."

"I've heard the stories of crime and chaos that lurk in every shadow," she explained. "The city is a place where danger is unavoidable, where man is unavoidable."

"That sounds like an ad for a city-based horror movie," I laughed. "It's not that bad. There's a lot of good, too, you know."

Sienna didn't seem convinced.

"Sure, it might seem a bit chaotic at first glance, but that's what makes it so special," I continued. "There's art everywhere you look, from the graffiti on the walls to the street performers on every corner. It's a place where you can be whoever you want to be, where the possibilities are endless."

"It sounds like you really loved it," she said .

"I did," he said, "at one point."

"Then why did you leave?"

"It was just something I needed to do," I shrugged, unwilling to elaborate. "You really should visit the city with me sometime. I'd love to take you."

"Oh, I don't think so," she waved me off.

I continued to paint a vivid picture of the city for her, recounting the tucked-away gems in narrow alleyways, charming hole-in-the-wall eateries, and one-of-a-kind boutique shops. Sienna's eyes widened with each word, her apprehension slowly melting away as she became enchanted by the idea of exploring such a lively place.

"Well, at least think about it," I told her. "My offer doesn't have an expiration date."

"I will think about it," she said, her words laced with skepticism. I doubted she would truly consider it, despite her half-hearted agreement.

Sienna collected our teacups and carried them to the kitchen. Taking the hint, I pulled my coat on. "It's getting late, I should be going," I told her, my eyes searching hers for any sign of reluctance.

She nodded slightly, a flicker of sadness crossing her features before she masked it with a smile. "Thank you for walking me home," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Oh, heads up, the bakery won't be open tomorrow. I'll be filling orders to prepare for the big day!"

"The big day?" I asked.

Sienna looked appalled by my ignorance. "Halloween!"