Thomas doesn't give up. No matter how slow I need to go, he makes sure we do that. It's endearing. Especially since I can tell how much he wants me. He practically vibrates with arousal when he's around me. I can almost smell it coming off of him. There's no question that I want him, too. I'm just not ready to take that next step.

When I first met him, I was sure he'd try to charm me out of my pants the way so many other men have tried to do. They didn’t give a crap about anything but what I had between my legs.

Thomas is different. As we spend more and more time together, he's shown me that he's interested in me as a person. Sure, he tells me often how beautiful I am, and I know he wants so much more than I'm willing to give him.

Despite that, he never pressures me too much. He respects my boundaries. At the same time, he makes it clear how much he wants me. I should've told him the truth about why I held back, but the idea of revealing that secret terrifies me. Thomas would run away the moment I told him I wanted to wait until I was in love to lose my virginity. I feel guilty for not telling him. He has a right to know, but I'm too selfish to risk losing him by telling him the truth.

Despite not knowing what's holding me back, Thomas has been surprisingly patient with me. He treats me with respect. We’ve been on a few more dates, and it's been solely about getting to know each other. Other than kissing, he doesn't push me into anything I'm not comfortable with. I’d been nervous the first time, but he had given me no reason to worry. Well, on his part. I'm still nervous about myself. The more time I spend around him, the less I'm sure I'll be able to control myself around him. What we have isn't love, but that doesn't mean I don't want more than just a kiss from him.

I meet him at the corner of Seventh Avenue and West Fifty-Ninth Street. "Why are we meeting here?" I ask him when I walk up.

"I have a surprise for you," Thomas says. He gestures with his hand to a white carriage with four horses and a driver.

"We're going on a tour through Central Park."

I smile at him. "Really?" I ask.

He nods. "When you live in a country, you tend to avoid the tourist destinations and miss out on the best your country has to offer."

This is true. I've gone to all the tourist attractions when I’d traveled to Germany, but I had never been on a carriage ride around central park.

The driver turns in his seat when we climb into the carriage.

"We're going to cover the South Quadrant of Central Park," he says. "That includes Sheep Meadow, the Balto Statue, Tavern on the Greene, and more."

He smiles at us. Thomas nods at him. "Good man," he says.

The driver clicks his tongue and flicks the reins, and we are off.

"This is so nice," I say as we enter Central Park at West Drive. The park is green. Pedestrians are out enjoying the weather and the beautiful surroundings, and the sun breaks through the clouds, mimicking how I feel.

"Your country is a beautiful place," Thomas says. "You should celebrate it."

"Your patriotism is impressive," I say. "I’m proudly American, but I don’t think anyone sees the country as passionately as tourists do. I mean, we’re just trying to live and get by, you know? We hardly have time to stop and see everything with fresh eyes."

Thomas shrugs. "Where I come from, being from Elanda is to be proud. Our country is not very big, but our hearts are, and we swell with pride that we've made the most of what we have."

I smile. "That’s very poetic," I say. "Are all the people in Elanda so proud of who they are?"

Thomas shrugs. "I don’t know," he says. "I haven’t been there for a long time."

I frown.

"Until now, I had the feeling that you weren’t that excited about your country and maybe going back one day."

Thomas looks out over the scenery. He doesn't respond to me.

"I didn’t mean to intrude," I say.

Thomas shakes his head. "You weren’t. You’re right–it seems I’m quite conflicted about my own country."

I don't respond. I don't know what to say. We drive in silence for a while. The clip-clop of the horses’ hooves and the wheels of the carriage mingle with the sounds of children playing and the chatter of the pedestrians walking. It's peaceful to be out in nature, seeing Central Park the way people used to for more than a hundred and fifty years.

It's Thomas. I'm not under any illusion that the setting is the only thing that makes me feel at ease. I'm comfortable around him in ways I haven't been with anyone else. Whenever I'm around people, I always feel a little bit different, a little bit strange, a little left out. With him, I don't.

Being with Thomas is a lot like coming home.

And I'm falling for him. Yes, it is quick. It's unexpected. I haven't thought I'd fall for someone this quickly, and at first, I hadn’t wanted to admit it. But it's true.

I find that when I'm away from him, I can't stop thinking about him. I'm excited to see him again when we arrange our dates. When I wake up in the morning, I want to hear from him. When something funny happens, he's the person I want to tell.

Don’t worry about love, I hear Lisa say. Just have fun.

I can't do that, though. I can't go around and have fun with Thomas without giving a part of me to him.

Everything about him is different than any of the other guys I’ve been with. Not only is he charming and handsome, the kind of person you can stare at all day long. Something about the way he carries himself and approaches things, the way he looks at life, is almost regal. I have the sense that he's above it all, but not in a way that is arrogant or snobbish. Thomas has an air of importance about him that has to be inherent.

I glance at him. His eyes slip over the scenery, and his mouth curls into a smile. This has been a surprise for me, but he's enjoying it just as much.

I reach for his hand and interlink our fingers. He glances at me and smiles, pressing my knuckles to his lips.

He does this often. It makes me feel special, important, delicate. I understand now what it's all about, feeling cared about by someone.

"Qu'est-ce que vous avez de beaux yeux," Thomas says.

I giggle. "I don’t know what you just said, but it sounded nice. And it sounded French?"

Thomas smiles and nods. "What beautiful eyes you have," he says. "That’s what it means."

I blush. No matter how well I get to know him or how much time we spend together, he manages to get me to blush every time.

"I didn’t know you spoke French," I say.

Thomas shrugs. "My country is on the border between Germany and France. We are all fully bilingual. I'm fluent in French and German, and thanks to my education here, English."

I laugh. "That’s impressive. I can barely speak English properly."

I look at Thomas. He isn't laughing with me. Instead, his eyes are soft, his face gentle. He looks at me like he hasn't seen me before. I fight the urge to squirm.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask.

"Tu es la femme la plus belle au monde, il n'y a pas de mots pour le dire." He lifts his hand and touches my face. His fingers are sure on my skin. I shiver. "You're the most beautiful woman in the world. There are no words to describe it."

I melt. Everything about Thomas is magical. Every time we spent time together, it just becomes more so.

"You can’t keep doing this to me," I say to him.

He frowns, taking his hand away. I feel the absence of his fingers on my skin acutely.

"What?" he asks.

I shake my head. "You can’t keep flooring me with all this flattery and beautiful gifts. I can’t keep up. Right now, you’re the most romantic person I’ve ever seen."

Thomas laughs. "I can’t help it," he says. "If you had any idea how you make me feel, you’d understand. Let me show you how you look in my eyes."

Thomas turns his head to me. He leans in toward me. I tip up my head and meet him halfway when he kisses me. His kiss is something I crave now, and his passions are something I miss when I'm not with him.

The kiss is warm and insistent. Thomas lifts his hand and puts it on my cheek. When he holds me like that, I feel delicate and petite. He makes me feel as beautiful as he keeps saying I am. His kisses me eagerly, his tongue slipping into my mouth like he is tasting me.

There are people all around us, and I don't care. Let them look and see what real passion looks like. Right here, right now, I'm exactly where I want to be, doing what I want to do.

When Thomas finally breaks the kiss, I put my head on his shoulder and wrap my arm around his body. He puts his arm around my shoulders, and we drive through the rest of Central Park like that, hand in hand, arm in arm.

Will I end up sleeping with Thomas? A part of me shouts yes. Another part still isn't sure. I've been holding back for so long, I'm not sure if I'll take that step. But if this isn't enough to get me to sleep with a guy, what the hell will it take? Lisa has told me so many times that it isn't a big deal, that I just needed to get my virginity out of the way and enjoy myself.

I look at Thomas. He doesn't know yet that I'm a virgin. Will I tell him? Will we get that far? I know what I feel for him, but I don't know if I can act on it.

If it were up to him, we would've slept together that first night.

I'm not sure what will happen between us in the future. I don't know what we will become, or how a long-term relationship works. I don't even know if this is something that can happen.

What I d know is that right now, I'm deliriously happy.