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"Are you afraid of heights?" a voice asked cheerily.
It was an innocent enough question, but Athena wasn't waiting for an answer. She grabbed Simon's hand suddenly with an expectant grin on her face and started to drag him towards the Ferris wheel before them. He didn't react much, ever true to his stoic demeanor. He didn't resist much either, which only made things easier for her. He only groaned, looking almost offended that he would be afraid of something so trivial.
"No, of course not," Simon replied, as patiently as he could.
"We can leave after this," Athena promised, sensing his exasperation. "I just want this to be the last thing we do."
They were really only there for a couple of hours at most. It was an accident, a happy coincidence.
The Wright Anything Agency had finally closed a major case after a long and arduous trial, and Athena was trying to decide how to celebrate for the evening when she came across the out of the way little carnival, right there in one of her favorite parks. It was there that she ran into Simon, who insisted he was only following Taka as he searched for his latest meal. That is, until he lost track of him.
Athena laughed at how out of place Simon looked among all the fun games, the colorful prizes, all the couples holding hands. Somehow, the fact that it was Valentine's Day was all but forgotten. It hadn't crossed her mind once as she stuck by him, basking in the familiarity of his company. Several unflattering sticker-booth selfies and many sticks of cotton candy later, the sun was already setting over another normal February evening.
Simon couldn't even remember how she had roped him into staying.
Athena was still smiling distantly when they finally made it to the front of the line for the Ferris wheel. They both climbed in and took their seats opposite each other in their assigned car. After that it moved so slowly, Simon thought he might go mad, but he sat, arms crossed, and looked almost comfortable as they ascended.
It was there at the top that Athena caught a glimpse of the heart-shaped lights flickering above the Tunnel of Love. They stood out to her, those pink and red dots in the darkness against a sea of whites and yellows, and it hit her all at once. Yes, it really had taken her that long to realize what was happening.
"Simon," she began, and he tore his attention away from the view, turning to face her. "Is this a date?"
She could hear his heart freeze over in an instant. His mouth parted, desperate for one of his witty replies, but instead, it felt like she just punched him in the gut. Still, his voice was even through his incredulity: "What?"
Athena shrunk, losing some of her confidence, but her smile didn't waver. She tried to laugh it off, but her tone was more serious than it had ever been.
"Sorry," she said. "That must be weird, coming from me, but I only ask because I don't know." She was honest, because she had to practice what she preached when it came to matters of the heart. She wouldn't be much of a psychologist if she didn't. With that in mind, she added softly: "But I don't think I'd mind. I mean, if it was a date."
Simon's fist tightened uncomfortably. What was he supposed to say: that he didn't mind the idea, either? Did he mind it?
He had to break eye contact with her when the answer didn't immediately come to him.
"That isn't exactly my realm of expertise," he admitted.
Athena shook her head, laughing lightly. "Mine either. I was always . . . too busy and too air-headed to think about that kind of stuff when I was in school."
She paused. The truth was that she was always too focused, too one-track minded when it came to learning the law. Her friends never hesitated to tell her so, every time she snubbed them or declined their invitations to go out and have a little fun. She always had too much studying to do, and never enough time to do it . . . but that was years ago now.
She hesitated, continuing: "I guess the clink wasn't exactly a hub for romance either."
He actually smirked at that, and color returned to his face. If there was one thing Simon enjoyed doing, it was making light of his time in jail—embellishing his stories and exaggerating them as needed. It was the only way he could look back on those wasted years with a smile, the only way he could really think of to put it behind him.
"No," he agreed, but added cryptically: "Then again, is it not taboo to kiss and tell?"
Athena wasn't sure what he meant by that. She looked at him suspiciously (but playfully), teasing: "But if you had, wouldn't you tell me?"
"If I had, I suspect I wouldn't have to."
Ooh. Touche, Athena thought, after some consideration. The last thing she wanted was to invade his privacy, with her special hearing or without it; but she stuck out her tongue, taking it for the harmless jab it was.
"Before prison, then."
Just when he thought she had dropped the subject. No such luck, he supposed, and so Simon tilted his head to feign ignorance. "Hmm?"
"I mean, I never saw you with anyone at the space center, exactly, but you were smart, and pretty handsome."
"No." He cut her off quickly, but politely. The answer was to the point, no more and no less than it needed to be. He caught sight of her shoulders sinking, and she sounded deflated.
"No? Not even one?" Athena could sense him wavering, and against her better judgment, pressed him perhaps a bit further than she had intended. ". . . Not even someone you liked?"
Th-Thump. Th-Thump.
There it was. The way his heartbeat changed, quickening like someone who's been cornered. It actually made her smile to know that Simon had known love once, and she couldn't hide it as she murmured accusingly: "Aha."
"Maybe one," he admitted, knowing he had been caught. Her curiosity burned, but she couldn't bring herself to ask outright. Instead, she waited, allowing him to go at his own pace, and she was rewarded when he continued. "Someone well-respected in her field, and more than worthy of all the love and admiration she commanded. She was married to her work, however, and . . . otherwise emotionally unavailable at the time that I knew her."
"You never told her," Athena guessed. Then she corrected herself, after reading small cues in his reaction: "Something happened."
I happened, she thought, though she didn't know why.
He swallowed the bitter laughter welling up inside of him. His smile came out mysteriously as he shook his head. She could tell he wasn't going to indulge her by saying any more, but she also felt more connected to this person he was describing than ever before. She couldn't put her finger on why . . .
"Actually," said Simon, as if to hammer that feeling in, "you remind me of her."
He took on a tone more gentle than she realized was possible for him, and something inside her melted. She felt like goo. Butterflies assaulted her stomach, as if trying to get out, and her cheeks warmed. It wasn't a confession, but she suspected it was the closest he had ever come. Whatever he may have meant, it was clearly a compliment, and she beamed, taking it as such.
"Well . . . thanks," Athena replied. For once, she was at a loss for words, but tread on carefully. "You must think about her a lot."
"Mostly about what she has taught me," he agreed. He met her eyes and stared into them, adding: "and what she has left behind."
Athena crumpled under his gaze, clueless, but nevertheless, she returned his knowing smile. The Ferris wheel continued to turn until finally, their car began a slow descent.
She stood then, too abruptly for him to react, and shuffled her way to the opposite side where he was sitting. It was a clumsy move. She was acting on a whim, he could tell. She nearly landed on top of him as the car wobbled from the shifting weight, but she just barely managed to catch herself and turn so that she was sitting next to him instead.
"Why did you do that?" Simon asked. He was breathing uneasily. The car was leaning, but not dangerously, and she looked comfortable.
"I wanted to sit next to you," she answered simply. She could have added a 'Duh!' and the childishness would not have been out of place. "I like getting to know you better. Plus, it's only for a little while longer, anyway."
She decided to leave out the fact that she could also hear the soothing rhythm of his heart better as she gently leaned against him. Simon didn't protest or move. He muttered, rather affectionately as he bit back another smile: "You are strange."
"Happy Valentine's Day to you, too," Athena said, amused, and Simon seemed taken aback. Was that what this was all about? Thankfully, she saved him the trouble of responding. "I know you didn't know. I didn't either, but it means a lot that you stuck around and humored me." Her tone softened. She laughed to quell her nerves. ". . . So, thanks. For everything, I guess."
She felt like he didn't hear it enough—or at least, that she didn't say it enough, but he seemed to take it in kind.
"Consider planning it a little better next year," Simon teased.
And Athena smirked, without missing a single beat. "What—and ruin the fun?"