It's a beautiful summer day in New York City. So beautiful, in fact, that it takes some of the pain out of an awful chore like having to walk through Midtown. Fifth Avenue is never the best place to be, but for my favorite beauty store, sometimes compromises have to be made.

New lipstick and mascara secured, I’m walking downtown when something catches my eye. There’s a man, and he's sketching in front of one of the skyscrapers. People sketching isn't uncommon in New York City. After all, it’s a city of artists. However, it's rare that I see someone like this.

He doesn't have a sketchbook, he has a giant wooden panel that sits on his lap. I think for me it would be unwieldy but it seems like it's the perfect size for him. Next to him he has a case full of art supplies: pencils, charcoal, everything he would need.

As I draw closer, I see that he's drawing a shockingly detailed perspective of the building. It captures every detail with grace and poise, without being too over the top. I myself have never been able to capture anything quite like that. Then again, I'm really not that good. I come up behind him and stop to watch. He has a delicate touch with pencil that I find very intriguing. He seems to be able to make it do exactly what he wants, and I’m a little jealous. I always feel a little out of control when I hold a pencil. Like it does what it wants and I’m at its mercy.

I wonder if he does this for a living or if he's just a student? He's older than I would expect for a college student, but this is the city of dreams, and no one can be discounted here. I only saw his drawing at first, but now I glance at the artist and I realize that he's attractive. More than attractive, he's smoking hot. The kind of hot you find in movies and advertisements and not usually sitting on the streets of New York City. His face is a work of art the same level as the one that he’s drawing.

I have the sudden urge to speak to him, but I'm not sure if that's because I want to talk to him about this drawing, or because I want to ask him out. There's a bubble of nerves in my gut, but I know with certainty if I walk away from this man without speaking to him, I will regret it. So, feeling slightly shaky, I step up beside him. "You're very good," I say.

He startles and looks up. I'm suddenly very glad that I started speaking when his pencil wasn't touching the paper. If I had ruined his drawing, I don't think I would ever forgive myself. "Sorry," I say. "I just saw your drawing and I had to tell you how much I liked it. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s all right,” he laughs. “I get sucked in sometimes. Besides, it’s not every day I’m interrupted by a beautiful woman.”

I blush, and hold out my hand. “I’m Audrey.”

He takes my hand, and I like the feel of it. “Christian.”

“I really did stop to tell you I think you’re talented. I don’t think I could ever do anything like that.”

“Have you tried?”

I smile. “I dabble a little. I’m okay, but nothing like that.”

“I believe everyone is capable,” he says. “Talent may be born, but persistence and practice are still the key to almost anything.”

“Good philosophy.” I realize that he’s still holding my hand, and I reluctantly pull mine away. “Are you an artist?”

Christian shakes his head. “Architect. Aspiring. But like I said, practice and persistence.”

“That’s amazing. If you can design buildings and draw like that, I have no doubt you’ll get there.”

“Thank you.” The tone of his voice is genuine.

I feel like I can’t stop smiling and I’m not sure why. “Anyway,” I say, “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

I make myself walk away because there’s nothing left to say and I’m a goddamn coward. Asking him out is more than I can do. I’m too easily embarrassed, and just talking to him was more than I thought myself capable of.

“Hey, wait!” I turn, and Christian has closed the few steps I’ve walked away, leaving his art supplies out in the open. “Wait,” he says as he approaches. “I swear that I don’t usually do this, and if that’s not what you’re looking for I’m sorry, but do you want to get a drink later?”

I can’t keep the smile off my face. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Do you know Charlaine’s?”

“Downtown?” I nod. “Yeah, I do.”

He smiles, and it takes my breath away. That smile could light up a city block. “How about seven?”

“It’s a deal.”

* * *

I texted Ellen about my spontaneous date, and I think she might be more excited about it than I am. Which is saying something because I’m pretty excited.

Charlaine’s is a bar downtown with an easy atmosphere and a fun vibe. It’s caught just a little in the past. Not quite enough to be retro, but enough to be nostalgic. It’s bright colors and 90s music and cocktails with names from pop culture. I’m wearing a cute dress and flats, and I even did my hair. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date, and this one excites me.

I see him waiting at the bar. There are butterflies in my stomach as I walk up to him. He’s dressed up more than he was earlier, slacks and a button down, sleeves rolled to the elbows. I wouldn’t say that I’m an arm girl, but his forearms might be enough to change my mind. They’re corded with muscle, and he either works out all the time or he has a job that makes it possible to have that kind of physique.

He looks up right before I get to him, and he smiles at me.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hello,” he says. We both stand there for a second, just staring. “Sorry, it’s been a bit since I’ve done this.”

“Don’t worry, me too.”

He scrubs the back of his neck with his hand. “Do you want a drink?”

“Vodka cranberry for me.”

“Great.” He turns to the bartender and orders my drink, and a gin and tonic for himself. He hands me my drink and leads me to a booth in the corner. It’s quieter here. We sit kind of beside each other and kind of across from each other without feeling too awkward. “Should we get the first date questions out of the way?”

“Like ‘what do you do’?”

He laughs. “Yeah.”

“I have a super exciting job,” I say. “I write grants and grant applications.”

“That is very exciting.”

I shake my head, taking a sip. “It’s really not.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s a job.” I shrug. “I like that I have one.”

Christian chuckles. “That’s fair. I’m a foreman, and, as you already know, an aspiring architect.”

So that’s why he’s got the body he does. “That must be exhausting.”

“Sometimes,” he says, “but it’s also nice to learn the construction aspect of the architecture. I think having experience on the ground is valuable when trying to design a building practically.”

“Yeah, for sure. That’s a great way to break in. Not that I would know anything about it,” I laugh.

He laughs too. “So if you don’t like your job, what would you rather be doing it?”

I blush because it feels like a really personal question, but he has no reason to know that. “Well, I always wanted to be an artist,” I say, taking another sip, “but that didn’t work out.”

“Why not?”

I shrug, looking away. “Family. Lack of talent. timing. Take your pick.”

“Well if that’s what you want—if you still want it—you should do it anyway.”

“I still do some art. Just not…publicly.”

He moves a fraction closer. “I’d love to see it sometime.”

I raise an eyebrow, but I’m smiling. “Let’s see how the rest of the night goes before I make any promises.”

Christian laughs again, this one loud and genuine. “That’s fair.”

He moves on to a different subject, and just like we agreed, we knock out the first date topics: music, movies, family, work, hobbies, last names. And then we’re on our third or fourth drink and I realize that we’ve been talking for hours and I don’t feel like there’s an end in sight. Nothing about him has given me pause, and we have enough similarities to be compatible and enough differences to keep it interesting.

We’ve move closer to each other over the course of the last few hours, until we’re close enough to touch, but we’re still barely apart. We’re laughing, and I pull away to finish the last of my drink. When I turn back, Christian’s face is right there, and he’s looking at my lips. “Audrey,” he says, “I would very much like to kiss you.”

My breath catches, and I only pause for a second before I press my lips to his. Then his hands are on me, slipping around my waist to pull me closer and I loop my arms around his neck. He kisses like fire, passionate and burning, urgent. God, the heat that runs through me is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I’ve never been kissed like this.

We break apart for breath, and Christian’s eyes meet mine. He looks awed, like this is more than he expected too. “You know how this afternoon you said you never did that? Asked people out?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” I say, swallowing, “I never do this, but I would like to ask you to come home with me. Unless you think that will ruin this.”

Christian shakes his head. “I’m on new ground here too, but I don’t think it will ruin it.”

“Me either,” I say, laughing and relieved.

He kisses me again, soft and slow, filled with hunger and promise. “Then let’s go.” After paying our bill, Christian keeps me close, arm around my waist as we leave the bar, and we lose ourselves in another kiss while we wait for a cab.