Page 72 of A Novel Love Story

To which he replied, cradling my face in his hand, searching my eyes as he did, “Aren’t you? What are you so afraid of, Elsy?”

Right now? I was afraid of reaching out to him, I was afraid of taking his hands in mine. I was afraid of something—justsomething good—with someone. “Nothing,” I said.

He ran his thumb along my bottom lip. “Liar …”

Was I imagining it, or was he leaning in for another kiss? He was, and I was, too, drawn like magnets, and all I wanted was to press my mouth to his and taste my name on his lips, and feel my blood coursing through my veins again—finally—like I was finally waking up from years of slumber.

“We can go back down,” I said, moving past him toward the ladder, but then he caught me by the wrist to keep me.

“Wait, please.” His grip was gentle, and I turned back to him.

The sun had set, and the oranges and reds were turning swiftly to purple and midnight blue as the moon grew brighter and brighter in the sky. “Anders,” I began, but he led me toward the edge of the bell tower, and produced two pairs of earplugs from his pocket. I had a feeling that he hadn’t gone to the hardware store just for the clasps, because this was too well planned, and that seemed just like him, through and through. Stoic, and thoughtful, and attentive, and even when he was grumpy, he made up for it.

“Put these in, it’s almost time,” he said, putting his own in, and I did, too. The world quieted, until I could only hear the blood rushing through my staccato heart. I opened my mouth to ask, loudly, what we were doing, when he held his hand up to his lips, and then—

All of the minute hands struck twelve at the same time.

And behind us, the bell pulled back and swung. Even with the earplugs in, the sound was so loud, it rattled my bones. At first, it startled me. I gave a yelp and grabbed Anders by the arm, curling close into his chest, and I think he started to laugh, but I couldn’t hear it over the sound of the bell. It swung back and forth, in long and loudgongs, all the way to nine, when the bell came back to rest, but its reverberations persisted long after, like a sigh of a thousand bees. I took my earplugs out and the air itself seemed tohum, even down into my lungs, and every inch of me felt vibrant and—alive.

“What do you think?” he asked quietly into my hair, and I realized I was still clutching his shirt, leaning against him.

My body still tingling from the sound, I looked out over the town, and all the tiny little buildings and the tiny little cars and the people walking down the street, and the woods that crept right up to the roads, and the trees that filed up the sides of the hills, making them look like evergreen waves. I’d imagined Eloraton a thousand times, but it didn’t even compare.

“It’s … magical,” I whispered.

“It is,” he replied, though his gaze never left me.

THE NIGHT HAD COOLED WHEN WE FINALLY LEFT THE CLOCKtower, and found a seat on a park bench in the square. For the second night in a row, there wasn’t a storm for miles. We sat silently, eating from the bag of taffy I’d bought a few days ago that I’d shoved in my purse. Well,Iwas eating from it. He stuck to his word that he didn’t like sweet things.

“Did you used to live in New York City?” I asked, twisting the plastic wrapper around my finger. We were sitting so close I could just lean a little and bump my shoulder against his. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, bopping his foot up and down like he was nervous.Washe nervous? Why would he be? “You seemed to know it really well when we talked about it earlier.”

“I did. Right on Eighty-Second Street on the Upper East Side.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It means I was close to the Met. I’d go there a lot to read.”

I studied him. “You would.”

“What doesthatmean?”

I pulled my legs up under me, angling myself toward him on the park bench. “Just that you enjoy quiet, nerdy places.”

“Hardly quiet. The Egyptian wing is the best. The room is bright, and there are a lot of benches. There’s so many people there, but it all just sounds like white noise after a while. I always went there to just … be beige for a while. A part of the scenery.” I imagined that scene inWhen Harry Met Sally, when they were in that room, and tried to put myself there, too, but I didn’t think I fit. He went on thoughtfully,“I miss the city sometimes. I miss the food—and the bookstores. Especially the bookstores. You’d love them,” he added, glancing over at me, his eyes glimmering with excitement.

“They can’t be half as good as Ineffable.”

“Perish the thought—but they’re good. They have character. Though, I’ve yet to meet a bookstore that doesn’t.”

I propped my arm up on the bench back and turned to face him. “Tell me everything about the city. Sell it to me like you would a book.”

“That’s a tough ask.”

I smiled—I couldn’t stop myself. “You like a challenge.”

And for the first time, I think I saw what Anders looked like when he was happy. There was a new color to his face, painted in with excitement, like the thought of somewhere else had knocked the dust off his character and shaken him awake. “Well, first off, you need to go in the correct month. Everyone waxes about summer in the city, but they’re wrong.”

“Oh? Carrie Bradshawliedto me?”

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