He laughs. "And you wanted to do the Titanic."
"That's a thing?"
"According to you, yeah." His laugh lights up his eyes. "You grabbed the railing and you screamed 'Joel, come on. I want to be Queen of the world.'"
"I did not."
He nods. "You did. I tried to talk you out of it."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I figured security would get there fast. I don't mind extra arrests on my record, but I could tell you would."
He's right I would. "I appreciate that."
"Don't. I failed. You started climbing over the railing."
I let my eyes flutter closed. I can hear the Celine Dion song. And Joel's laugh. The spray of the water. It was a cold night, but I was warm from the buzz, then Joel's arms were around my waist, and I felt safe.
Happy.
The memory is faint, but I can still feel every bit of happiness.
Of ease.
It was fun.
I did climb over the railing.
He stayed on the other side of it to hold me tightly.
To protect me.
And I really trusted him to protect me.
His voice gets soft. "You remember?"
"Yeah." I stare into his gorgeous green eyes. "Most of it."
"You agreed I could draw you wearing only your necklace?"
I raise a brow. "Did I?"
Joel shakes his head. "No, but I'm happy to do it."
"You draw?"
"I know how to wield a pen."
I have to laugh. "Brooms, wands, and pens. Joel Young, you have an obsession—"
"You forgot drum sticks."
"I did."
"Guitars." He mimes holding a guitar, the body over his crotch, the neck jutting forward. Then he's fretting his air-guitar like he's touching himself.
Ahem. "You're obsessed with phallic imagery."