He holds his hand out for me to shake, and I take it slowly. The feel of his rings is almost familiar against my skin now. The moment we let go, I feel a strange sense of...longing?

I shove that thought out of my head and start walking ahead of him, my fingers trailing against the railing, trying to erase the memory of his touch from my skin.

Behind me, I hear the shutter of his camera. I falter, glancing over the edge of the bridge, where the Harlem River glitters below. It’s beautiful, the slow tug and pull of running water. I lean up on my toes, trying to get a better view, and Emmitt’s camera clicks again.

“Are you sure there aren’t better things you could be taking pictures of?” I ask, fingers hooking into the links between the fence. “I’m not even dressed that nicely.”

Emmitt laughs quietly and takes another picture.

I ignore him again, taking out my phone to record the river below. I shift a moment later, capturing Emmitt on film, followed by an elderly couple passing by, walking their dog.

They look between Emmitt and me fondly, and the tips of my ears warm in response. I turn around and keep walking, filming as I go.

I only falter when I hear Emmitt’s voice speaking in low tones. I turn, phone in hand, and see him crouching, petting the couple’s dog with a bright grin on his face.

Somehow, the sight only makes me more flustered. Emmitt Ramos is charming, even when he doesn’t mean to be. Maybe even more so.

I take a deep breath, swiveling around to face forward. The click of Emmitt’s camera sounds a minute later, and I keep walking, my phone still recording.

Eventually, we reach the Manhattan side of High Bridge, looking out over Washington Heights. I cut him a look over my shoulder. “Now what?”

Emmitt smirks as he saunters over to me, his hands tucked into his pockets. I want to roll my eyes at his display of confidence, but I can’t bring myself to. “Let’s get some food. We have plans later.”

“We?” I repeat. “Since when?”

“That’s what my phone call was about,” he says, before he starts walking down the ramp. I follow after him as he leads us into Highbridge Park. I can’t imagine he knows where he’s going, but I let him take the lead anyway.

“You called someone to make plans?” I ask, reaching his side. He’s toying with his camera again as we start walking down a gravel path, trees and shrubbery on either side of us.

Emmitt nods, taking a quick picture of a large rock on display. And then another picture of me.

I wave him off, finally putting my phone away. “Answer properly, dickhead.”