h2>Dating : Barefoot Bikeride
Barefoot bikeride in the middle of September. The air is salty with lowtide and there’s juuust enough sunshine left over after work to go outside and enjoy it. So we do.
Olivia’s hair is fluttering behind her, she turns around and laughs at me. “You’re ridiculous,” she says and crosses the road, heading under the bridge, toward the docks and seagulls.
“I’m just saying,” I say. “You wouldn’t cut it.”
The south breeze wraps around the boats soft and cool; across Shark River, right off the ocean. A Thursday, our tans starting to fade; some residual humidity lingers, waiting to turn into tomorrow morning’s fog.
“What do you want to do for dinner?” She asks, slinking up onto the walkway, riding to better see the sunset across the bay.
“Let’s get some pizza and eat on the beach before it gets cold!”
“Okay,” she said, “but only if we stop for boxed wine.”
We laughed and the sun got a little lower and everything was right. The leaves hadn’t yet begun to change and we could still wear short sleeves. My feet spun round and round at varying paces and our hearts grew in size.
We turned up and went to Reyes on Main St, even though we vowed to boycott after our last excursion. “It’s okay,” she confided, “we’ll lapse just this once.” I carried the box and we stopped at Hanley’s on our way down to Seventh Avenue.
As quickly as the pizza was unboxed, it disappeared. The sunset finally sank into purple and deep blue. We gnawed at the remaining crust while the sand grew cold, soaking through our jeans like the sunshine that did the same just an hour ago. A weak hum of music from the Stone Pony fought the breeze, though we were unable to distinguish the artist without Googling it (Damian and Ziggy Marley).
“I love where we live,” says Olivia.
The weight of a thousand waves rolled out of our hearts and crashed into the universe. Stars punctured the sky, forcing us to put on our sweatshirts. We listened to the waves. We sipped red wine. We licked at life’s stardust. Then we rode home, still barefoot.