Page 7 of Norah

Her clothes aren’t showy or revealing, just a white tee and dark jeans that hug her curves. I’m reminded how tiny she is, easily a foot shorter than me. My protective instincts surge as I think of how delicate she looks, and I want to pull her into my arms and never let go.Holy hell.I’ve got it bad.

Norah sits on the bench next to me, and nearly whispers, “Sorry I’m late.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”Why are you late?

Responding to the unspoken question, Norah looks at me and bites her lip. “I wasn’t sure if I was, either.” She swallows. “I’ve been thinking about you, well, a lot this week. And it kind of scared me. But I really wanted to see you.”

“I didn’t plan on not coming or being late. But then when I went to leave my apartment, I froze. I kept telling myself to move, that I didn’t want to keep you waiting, but…” She takes a deep breath. “Bottom line, I was scared. And I thought it might be easier to avoid these feelings I’m having about you. But I can’t stop how I feel. And I don’t want to be afraid of this, or my feelings for you.”

Oh, thank you, God. As long as Norah is feeling towards me, even a fragment of what I feel for her, we can handle everything else in time. There was a connection from the start, and I need to see where it leads.

Easy, be cool, don’t scare her away. It’s a litany running through my head before I respond. “I’m just glad you came.”Don’t say the wrong thing. “I thought about you all week too, and I definitely feel something for you.” Norah’s giving me a tiny, relieved smile, so I continue. “But we can go as slow as you want. There’s no rush.”

“OK. That sounds… good.” She swallows. “I am truly sorry that I left you sitting here, thinking I wouldn’t show.”

“It’s already forgotten. And if you get freaked out, just tell me, OK? Whatever you need to feel comfortable, that’s what we’ll do.”

I’m rewarded with a smile that makes my heart twist and my gut clench. “Thanks, Ethan.”

“So, are you ready to see what I’ve planned for today?” All week I wracked my brain trying to think of the perfect place to bring Norah. Someplace different, but not noisy or chaotic. Someplace where we can talk and get to know each other. And then midweek, as I thought about her storm-colored eyes and arresting stillness, it came to me. I only hope she likes it.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, if that’s OK?” I stand and hold out my hand to help her up from the bench. I take her tiny hand in mine, noticing the contrast of her pale skin against my more tanned shade.

“That’s OK.”

And as we walk together, Norah surprises me by not letting go of my hand the entire time.

NORAH

He brought me to MoMA. How did he know?

The Museum of Modern Art was one place I wanted to visit when I first moved to the city. But I got caught up with work and plans and other things took priority. Then life changed, and I didn’t go anywhere anymore. It might have been fear, or a need to punish myself for what I’d become. My world just grew smaller and smaller.

Until now. Until I shocked myself with my lack of control when Ethan was concerned. All my rules, my self-deprivation, all flew away when Ethan asked me to do something with him. Just say yes, I remind myself.Say yes.

I realize I’ve been standing stock-still by the entrance for a bit too long when Ethan faces me with worry etched across his face. “Is this alright, to come here? If you want to go somewhere else, just say the word.”

“It’s more than alright.” I squeeze his hand in reassurance. “I’ve never been, but I always wanted to visit.”

“I wanted to find the perfect place.” He looks so earnest and sweet, which is such a contrast with his rugged appearance. Ethan is working the tall, dark, and handsome look today. His hair is tousled and wavy, brown and black glinting in the sun.

He’s wearing a dark gray shirt that is just the slightest bit tight around his upper arms, and it’s complemented by dark jeans that make me wish he’d turn around for a closer look. But it’s his eyes that really pull me in, deep green and framed with thick lashes and strong brows.

“I know you didn’t say if you liked art, but it just seemed like this place would be a good fit.” He continues his explanation. “And it’s quiet, so we can talk without being interrupted.”

“I think it’s perfect.” I’m not ready to do anything more than hold his hand, but I’m not ready to let go of it either. So we walk inside, pay admission, and begin our exploration, all while still holding hands. It’s the most intimate contact I’ve had with anyone in years, and with anyone else I’d be totally panicked. With Ethan, it just feelsright.

We tour through the exhibits, and Ethan is really knowledgeable about the artwork. He points out techniques, and mentions some of his favorite artists. His top is Van Gogh, which is my favorite as well. As we discuss the various pieces of art, I’m finding myself more and more relaxed, which I guess means that Ethan’s instinct was right about coming here.

“This was the perfect place,” I tell him, as we stand in front of my all-time favorite painting,The Starry Night. I take a moment to stare at the painting, the brush strokes, the passion within the artwork. “I’ve always loved this painting, and seeing it in person is just… remarkable. It’s so much more than I imagined. Like seeing the stars in motion.”

“It is amazing,” he agrees. I glance over at Ethan and notice he has a slightly odd expression, his brow wrinkled a bit, but then it smoothes out and he smiles at me. “Ready to keep exploring?”

Eventually, we come to the end of the museum, and Ethan tugs me towards the gift shop. “Oh, we don’t have to go in there,” I tell him.

“But what if I want to go?”

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