Page 110 of Enzo

“Even now that we’ve spent all this time together?” I cry in mock indignation. But I’m surprised by his tepid reaction. His mouth tightens and he looks so serious, like he can’t take a joke. I wonder if it’s work pressure.

I don’t give up. “Don't you want to put your arm around me?” I’m hoping to appease him.

“Let me know when you’re ready,” my tourist cameraman says.

I’d forgotten all about him. I whip my head in the direction of the tourist. “Sorry about this.”

I hate wasting someone’s time. I turn to Enzo who has suddenly gone all wooden.

“At least move closer,” I implore. “We’re supposed to be creating a memory.”

One day he’ll look back on all this and see that it was fun, coming out of his mancave and going around New York with me. His arm slides around my shoulder, awkward and stiff, like he’s not sure about this move.

“Smile,” I remind him.

“I am smiling as much as I can wearing this ridiculous clothing.”

“You didn’t seem to mind the Sexy Professor outfit,” I counter, but I notice that he looks uncomfortable. His eyes lock with mine. “It’s just a personal photo. It won’t turn up in a celebrity magazine, I promise.”

And just like that, he does.

He smiles.

“See, that’s so much better. Before, it looked like you’d read some disappointing quarterly results.”

He laughs. I love that I can make him laugh. This man who’s always been not-so-smiley has done more of this during our few days together.

“It’s the sweatshirt. I can’t stand it.” His arm relaxes around me.

“Wearing something like this must be killing you.” This man is secretly a fashion snob.

“Is it okay for me to take it now?” We both turn to our friendly and forgotten tourist cameraman.

“I’m so sorry, yes, please, go ahead.” I make an apologetic face.

This man has been an absolute angel.

Beside me, Enzo is as stiff as ever.

I thank the tourist as he hands my camera back and turn to Enzo.

“See, it wasn’t too bad.”

We continue walking around. Enzo hasn’t mentioned about needing to get back for a meeting or anything. He seems more relaxed than ever. I glance at him sideways. He does look laid back. There’s no frown furrowing his brow. No intense, pensive expression on his face. He seems to be mindful of just being here. In the present. Enjoying life now.

Maybe a little bit of how I live my life has rubbed off on him.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

“I’m never not hungry.”

“I noticed that about you.”

“Ooooh. Observant.”

We’ve been walking for a while now, enjoying the fresh air and the day. Each lost in our thoughts. Every now and then we make small talk, about spring break, and him having to return to work.

We go to a small diner away from the tourist traps. It’s on the corner of a street, with neon signs. Inside it’s retro, metal stools, Formica tables. Waitresses in typical uniforms complete with white frilly hats and a welcoming smile.