Anticipation ripples through me. Because I do trust Michael, and I think this is going to be fun—beyond hanging out with him, that is. I spent the past week thinking about the fact that I was going to be spending the day with Michael, and I didn’t actually stop to think about the sight-seeing part. But we are going out to see the city, and that’s exciting.
I turn and watch the streets around us change as we leave the Village and head uptown. Slowly, the low, residential buildings give way to more skyscrapers and office blocks, more glass and steel, until eventually, we pull up outside the beautiful facade of Grand Central Terminal.
I rummage in my bag for money to pay the driver, but Michael just hands over his credit card with a smile.
“I’ve got it,” he says, and my stupid brain adds a point to the mental “date” column it seems to be running.
Stop it, now.
We step out onto the sidewalk and have to cross the road and walk back to take in the facade, it’s so huge. It’s like something out of ancient Rome, with its massive stone columns and arched windows, completely at odds with the modern buildings surrounding it. Above the main entrance is the clock and winged statue; beautiful and iconic.
“Will you think I’m a total dork if I take pictures?”
Michael laughs, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. “Not at all.”
I pull my phone out and snap some photos of the facade. Then I turn around to take a selfie in front of the building and Michael reaches for my phone.
“Here, I’ll take it.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling a blush spread over my cheeks despite the cold air. “Okay.” I pose in front of the building, trying not to feel like a total fool with him watching me.
He hands the phone back with a smile. “You want to go in? It’s really cool.”
I nod and follow him back across the road and in through the glass doors onto the concourse. It takes me a second to adjust to everything—the echo of footsteps and voices, the cavernous ceiling above us, the dim lighting—but when I do I just gape around in awe.
This place isspectacular. The curved ceiling stretches what feels like miles above us, painted in the most intense green-blue, overlaid with intricate gold detailing of the zodiac. At each end of the marble concourse is a stone staircase leading up to a balcony, and there are huge arched windows along the walls. All around me, people are milling from doorways to corridors leading off to different tracks, and an announcement comes on over the loudspeaker which makes it feel like I’m in the middle of some grand airport.
“Wow,” I breathe, wide-eyed. Even though people are weaving past me, hurrying to get to important places, I’m rooted to the spot, trying to absorb everything.
“I know, isn’t it beautiful?” Michael watches me for a moment, then gives me a gentle nudge. “I’ll go grab us a coffee. What do you want?”
I break out of my trance and turn to him. “That’s okay, I can—”
“No, you wander around and take it in. I’ll grab something from over there”—he gestures to a coffee stand—“and be right back.”
“Okay. Um, just a cappuccino, thanks. Here.” I reach into my bag for cash but he shakes his head.
“I’ve got it. You go look around, I’ll come find you.” And he wanders off to the coffee stand while my mind does another mental tally in the “date” column.
Still, it’s hardly a date if he’s running off at the first chance, is it?
With a sigh I turn and wander, trying to absorb everything around me. Everywhere I look there’s someone doing something interesting, or some beautiful detail in the marble and stone. I climb the stairs at one end and snap a few photos overlooking the concourse, trying to capture the magic I feel at being here.
A few moments later Michael appears at my side, handing me a coffee. “I got you a muffin too. I hope you like chocolate.”
I take the muffin and coffee with a surprised smile. “Thank you. That’s really sweet.”
He gives a little chuckle. “I’m a sweet guy once you get to know me.”
I let my eyes linger on him. Heissweet, I’m coming to see, and it’s killing me.
Fixing my gaze back on the concourse below, I sip my coffee, watching the people milling about. “I love to people-watch,” I say after a while.
“Yeah?”
I nod. “I like to imagine who people are and what their lives are like. I wonder about where they’re going and what they’re thinking.”
Michael scrubs a hand over his beard, watching the people below. “Most of them are on their phones with their earphones in. They’re probably all zoned out.”
