His Eyes by Renee Carter

planned... I’m still trying to figure things out.”
    “Like, the future?” I offered.
    “Yeah.” He sighed. “You know, you can lean back if you want to.”
    I blushed as I relaxed against him. “Thanks.”
    Aeris slowed to a comfortable walk while we followed the gentle path. Tristan and I were silent, peacefully silent. I felt the slow rise and fall of his chest, just like our dance. I watched the flowing landscape around us and finally felt so relaxed, that I spoke the question on my mind. “Do you think you’ll ever compete, again?”
    I felt Tristan’s heart begin to pound at the thought. “I don’t know. I-I don’t think anyone blind has ever show-jumped....” I waited while he considered the idea. “It would be almost impossible.”
    “But, think about it! It would be you and Aeris! You already have a bond!” I enthused.
    I bounced against Tristan’s chest as he laughed. “Amy, you’re crazy.”
    “Fine.” I grumbled. “But, I have one more suggestion.”
    “What’s that?” he asked teasingly.
    “We should go get some ice cream.”
    “ That I can handle.”
    * * *
    With my plastic spoon, I traced a pattern in the top of my bowl of Maple Walnut. To me, Ice Cream World was one of the very best features of Grayfield. It was retro, but not to the point of being annoying. Sure, outside there was a red and white awning and inside the walls were lined with shelves holding syrups and toppings in glass jars. The point was that they let their employees wear jeans and t-shirts with only tiny Ice Cream World logos. That’s progress.
    I eyed Tristan as he dug into his Mint Chocolate Chip. “How long did you say it’s been since you’ve come here?”
    He shrugged. “Ten years?”
    “Ugh!” I gestured with my spoon. “ You are crazy! A summer isn’t complete without Ice Cream World ice cream!”
    I tried not to stare while Tristan licked a drip of ice cream from his lips. “I was busy doing other things.”
    “Nothing quite as tasty.”
    “True,” he laughed.
    I carved out a spoonful of Maple Walnut before asking, “So, how long have you ridden?”
     “Since I was six.” Tristan swallowed and his face grew still as he remembered. “My father got me started riding ponies and I was jumping them when I was about nine. By the time I turned eleven, I was bored with jumping ponies, so my father bought me Aeris. Once I was trained in equestrian show-jumping, I really started competing.”
    I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and asked carefully, “Did your dad ride, too?”
    Tristan lowered his head and prodded at his ice cream. He said slowly, “When he was younger, but then he got too busy.” He paused for a moment, lost in thought. “My father was a neurosurgeon—one of the best in the country.  He was always driving to Chicago to consult or flying out to speak at conferences.”
    “Was he around at all?”
    “Enough,” Tristan said shortly and his mouth formed a hard line. For several minutes, he fell silent and slowly ate his ice cream. I jumped when he unexpectedly spoke. “What about you—what’s your passion?”
    “My ‘passion’?”  I laughed. “Music.  I love it!  My dream job is being a journalist for the Rolling Stone .  I don’t know what the odds of that happening are....”
    “You’ll do it,” he said, smiling, and again caught me off guard.
    “Why do you say that?”
    His answer came confidently. “Because you’ve got it all down; you know what’s important.”
    I blushed, amazed that he would say such a thing to me. I squeaked out a “Thanks.”
    Tristan took another bite of ice cream. “What’s next?  College?”
     I licked my spoon and tried my best to calm myself. “Yeah, but it’s not as simple as it sounds... Rolling Stone only takes twelve interns a year, so I really need to wow them.  I’m sure I’d learn stuff if I went to Illinois U. But if I went to Evanston, I’d be ready.”
    He frowned, looking confused. “So, where are