Outside

The man with the long, bushy ponytail that stretched down his back walked into the common room where we sat reading. He was dressed in shorts, an old t-shirt, and hiking shoes. He had that look of someone who probably spent his weekends camping and talked about the woods like they were palaces. 

"What a gorgeous day!" he boomed. "Guys, yah gotta get outside!"

"No," we replied in unison, neither of us looking up from our books. 

The man let out a little 'hah' and followed it with,

"But it's beautiful out! Yah wait all wintah fah this!"

"I don't," you deadpanned, nestling your bookmark in place.

"Me either," I agreed, rolling my eyes and shutting my novel. "Well, I love the warmth, but not going outside. I hate it."

"Come ahhhhn," he insisted. "It's practically summah. It's days like these that were the BEST, back in school, yah know, when the teachahs would let yah have lessons outside."

I wrinkled my nose,

"Those were the worst!" I insisted. "I went to school in the city, so there were no trees, and we had to sit in the itchy, bug-infested grass. I'd cut class if they made us go out."

The man looked shocked, as if not being one with nature was the strangest thing in the world. You patted my knee in solidarity and flashed me a smile, an unspoken 'I agree.' 

"Well, um, have a good one!" the man called, quickly heading for the exit. 

I looked over at your face and admired your stubbled cheeks and striking, amber-flecked eyes. I leaned and kissed you, and we settled in with our books.