But then...he stopped.

Pulling back, he shook his head and lay back down. “What the fuck am I doing?” Cradling his head in the palm of his hand, he looked up at the moon. For the shortest glimpse, a tortured need glimmered in his gaze then disappeared.

I sucked in a much-needed breath, trying to decide what the hell just happened.

My mouth went dry. My chest full of feathered wings. Jitters took over my motor skills as I replayed the almost-kiss over and over.

A few minutes ticked past.

The grass rustled as he sat up, digging his hand into his hoodie pocket.

Pulling free a wrapped chocolate bar, he glanced at me with a faint glint of possession and indecision.

My stomach growled at the sight of food, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since a mouthful of spicy beef burrito. He smirked at my noisy tummy then courteously but reluctantly offered me the chocolate. “Here. You sound hungrier than I am.”

My hand came up, accepting his gift. Waiting to make sure I had hold of it, he dropped his arm. He sighed heavily, finding it hard to tear his gaze away from the chocolate and focus on the moon.

His own stomach gurgled quietly as he placed a splayed hand over his waist and pressed down.

Everything inside me hurt. The vulnerability of him in that moment. The generosity of giving up the only food he had, even though he was most likely starving. I worked with people on a daily basis who would rather throw out entire platters of food than donate it to those in need. The news on TV was full of greed and cruelty and rich assholes thinking only of themselves.

And then there was him.

A man I didn’t know. A savior I’d only just met. But someone who had a profound effect on me in the hour we’d been together.

He sighed again, swallowing hard as he finally tore his gaze away and looked at the stars.

When was the last time he ate? Where did he get a candy bar? When was the last time he’d eaten anything more substantial than just chocolate?

My hunger turned to indigestion as I did my best to guess his story. His body hunched as his stomach stopped growling. His sneaker-covered feet were thread bear and rubber-worn, speaking of so many miles traveled and no sanctuary found. The silver glint of the moon played on the black of his hoodie, making it seem as if he dressed in liquid mercury.

My hands shook as I opened the candy bar and slowly unwrapped it. His jaw clenched at the noise of the wrapper. The soft rustling of grass hinted he wasn’t as relaxed as he appeared. The tension rippling off him was that of a starving wolf wanting to attack its prey but finding restraint...barely.

I couldn’t stop staring at him. Couldn’t stop my heart from pushing through my ribs to go to him. To demand his name, his background, to know how he had such a power over me.

What is this...magic...between us?

Was it like this between any boy and girl? Was the desire to cuddle close and listen as much as the need to curl close and kiss the basis of...dare I say it...attraction?

I scoffed.

Attraction?

What do you know about attraction, Elle?

You’re a closet romantic who knows nothing but spread-sheets and merchandise.

I was an idiot to believe there was something going on between us—known or unknown, unique or mundane.

The chocolate bar melted a little in my fingers. My tummy churned; I did the only thing I could do. I had to accept his gift now; otherwise, he would know I suspected he was homeless and hungry and would never tolerate my pity.

But I couldn’t eat it all because if he was homeless, what else would he have? How long would that eighty dollars last him in a city that was so expensive just to survive?

Tearing the chocolate in half, I sat up and placed his half on his knee. “Thank you.”

His eyes found mine as his hand latched over the candy. His gaze danced over my face, lips, and hands. His fingers curled almost unconsciously around the chocolate with a feral gleam, just daring me to take it away.

Slowly, he nodded, accepting that I knew things he didn’t want to say and agreed to eat because, if nothing else, there was trust between us.

I gave him some space by looking away.

Taking my time, I nibbled on the chocolate, nougat, and caramel, doing my best to focus on taste rather than my physical awareness of him.

It was impossible.

The entire evening—from the perfumed park, to the dewy grass, to the silent man inhaling half a chocolate bar—seared on my mind like an old-fashioned photograph, developing from blurred to sharp with hasty capture. A memory created by this man, this night, and this sugary confectionery. I would never again walk through Central Park without remembering him or how much he’d shaken up my innocent, boring world.

Taking tiny bites to make the treat last longer, I didn’t expect conversation. So when a soft murmur interrupted the silence of the park, I jolted.

“Do you come here often?”

I wanted to giggle. It sounded like a cheesy pick-up line. He didn’t crack a smile or soften. He was serious.

I looked at him through the waterfall of blonde hair that’d fallen over my shoulder. He’d already finished his dinner (or was that breakfast or lunch or a midnight snack?) Once again, the shadows of his beard and the silver-light made him seem mystical and not quite real. Too handsome to be real. Too much to be real.

I swallowed my nerves and chocolate. “Not as much as I would like.”

“Why?”

“Because I work all hours of the day. I rarely get to leave the office.”

He shifted his eyes from the open field to the tall buildings in the distance with their glowing windows and adult obligations. Belle Elle was the brightest jewel, mocking me, telling me to come home.