Outside, the sky is dark but the lights that flash everywhere mask whatever stars are out.

Stepping on the sidewalk, we pass overflowing trashcans and people asking for money. Mia reaches into her purse and gives a few dollars to a homeless woman who thanks her.

“Stay safe,” Mia says, and then nestles into the crook of my arm. “It’s kinda cold for May.”

“Good thing you got me.”

“Wow,” Mia laughs as I squeeze her. “Emotionally unavailable, yet cheesy.”

I smile. Even though this city has me feeling down, with Mia in my arms, it’s impossible to not feel at least a little optimistic about this place.

Mia picks the restaurant and places our to-go order and then I suggest we check out the location of my sculpture.

“That sounds amazing.” She beams up at me like she hasn’t been out in a long time and doesn’t want the night to end. Considering Mr. Roller’s words earlier, I guess it’s the truth, but how is that possible? Mia is the kind of woman men should be fighting over.

A while later, our Chinese food take-out containers in hand, we are sitting on a bench in Central Park. Even though there are no stars to be seen in the night sky, sitting here with Mia I don’t feel so far from home. In fact, this spot suits me just fine.

“So, this is where the magic is going to happen,” she says, taking in the empty space.

“A blank canvas,” I tell her.

“Is it intimidating?” she asks. “I can’t imagine having so much choice. Freedom. You can literally do whatever you want and you’re getting paid for it. You realize how lucky you are, right?”

I shake my head, pulling open the white box of orange chicken. Breaking apart a pair of chopsticks, I answer her question. “Lucky, sure, but it’s a lot of pressure. This sculpture is going to be in Central fucking Park. Right now, I make stuff for people I know. Have a few art shows here and there, but it’s all on my own terms.”

“And now everyone in the world will have the opportunity to critique whatever you make.” She pushes her lips forward, chopsticks between her fingers, pointing them at me like she has me all figured out. “You make more sense now.”

“Oh yeah, how so?” I eat, not realizing I was so hungry. But it seems that being with Mia has invigorated me.

“You have this whole cocky, borderline asshole, thing going on as a way to protect yourself.”

I snort. “So, besides being a concierge, you’re also a psychologist?”

She shakes her head, laughing in a way that tells me she doesn’t take this too seriously. It’s refreshing to be around a woman who’s comfortable in her own skin like this, she seems independent and that’s a characteristic I find really appealing. Too many women have clung on to me for validation, but Mia isn’t asking for that. She’s just making conversation.

“No, I went to school for hotel management,” she explains. “But I am a people person. It’s my job to help people, to make sure I understand where they are coming from so I can give them what they want.”

“And what do I want?”

“You want to play it safe because you’re scared of failure. But you also want respect. Which is good, so long as you keep your priorities straight.”

I pull back, looking Mia over. “Woman, are you like this on every first date?”

She laughs, shoveling noodles into her mouth. “I don’t go on many first dates.”

“Shocking, really,” I say, my voice deadpan. “My priorities are straight, just for the record. I’m not doing this project for fame or fortune, but the opportunity felt too good to pass up. That’s why I’m here, Mia.”

“I get that. And it’s really pretty amazing when you think about it. Not many people have had permanent art installations in the Park.”

I look out at the site where I will begin building this week. It’s been cleared, the land is bare, and I know that tomorrow a crate of my tools and metal will be delivered. This portion of the park will become a construction zone for the next eight weeks. Scaffolding and barriers will be put up to protect the project, yet the entire thing will be a work-in-progress that is open to the public to watch as I build.

No fucking pressure.

“Enough about me,” I say. “What about you. Are your priorities straight?”

She nods slowly. “I think so. I’ve had to grow up pretty fast, so I haven’t had a lot of opportunities for my priorities to get out of whack.”

Knowing that I hate talking about myself before I’m ready, I don’t press her on what forced her to grow up fast. Instead, I give her a hard time about her word choice.

“Out of whack? Does everyone talk like that in New York City?”

“It’s my brother and sister rubbing off on me.” She sighs good-naturedly. “I’m such a dork. I really should get out more. I swear, this past year I’ve been in a vortex where I only work and sleep, rinse and repeat.”

“Sounds like this night out was the right call.” I look at her, trying to understand what has her working so damn hard.

“Yeah, it was.” She dips her egg roll in sweet-and-sour sauce, a smile on her face. “Thanks, Ford, for convincing me.”

“The night’s not over, Mia.”

Finished with our food, I take her hand. It slips into mine so damn perfectly and she looks up at me, feeling the same spark I feel. Her hand in mine is the perfect fit.

“It’s not?”

I shake my head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Not even close.”

“Good,” she says, leaning closer. “Because I’m not ready for it to end.”

I pull her mouth to mine and she doesn’t pull away. No, she leans into me, asking for more.

I kiss her on that park bench under the trees of Central Park.

I kiss her and I don’t plan on stopping there.