39. Dylan
T he echoes of the museum visitors’ footsteps fade as everyone trickles out for the day. Parker and I have spent the last hour and a half walking around the exhibits, laughing, admiring art, and, most importantly, relishing in each other’s company.
He handled my overreaction about the email with much more grace than I deserved. If I had just communicated with him, we could’ve enjoyed our evening together from the jump. But I didn’t, and now I know where he stands.
I knew he was serious about us and this relationship, but hearing he’s here to stay makes me feel like I can take on anything the world throws at me.
I feel like I’ve been gliding around the museum, my steps barely grazing the ground. The idea that I get to love this person who felt like mine from the very beginning is something I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to accept fully. I’ve read countless romance novels, but our love story is turning out to be my favorite.
The sculptures are painted in a soft glow from the overhead lights, and Parker and I are the only two left in this wing of the museum. I look down at my watch. It’s five minutes until closing, and I’m not ready for this night to end.
I absently trace the railing as I study the statue before me. I’m enamored by the way the marble looks like real flesh, with curtains of fabric draping the body. How something so strong and solid can look so soft and delicate is beyond me.
“You’ve always loved art.” Parker’s voice pulls me away from the model. “If it were up to you, you’d spend an entire day here.”
I turn around to see Parker sitting on a bench, admiring me as if I were an exhibit, and a spark of excitement dances in my belly. I return my eyes to the art in front of me. “This place is magical at night.”
His footsteps grow nearer as he walks over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He rests his head on my shoulder, and his words tickle my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “It is. Especially tonight.” His voice is full of warmth, and it pulls a grin from me effortlessly.
I turn to face him, lifting my chin to meet his eye. “You always were a romantic, weren’t you?” I scrunch my nose.
“Only with you.” His hand begins to trail up my back under my sweater, and the chills come back in droves. I bite my tongue to stop myself from letting out a soft groan at the touch. It’s so gentle and innocent, yet my mind runs like the speed of lightning, thinking of his hands skimming down the rest of my body.
I sigh and rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat. It’s quick, like mine, and I shut my eyes, losing myself to the rhythm.
“At the risk of sounding like a walking Hallmark card, I can’t believe we’re here. I can’t believe the past few months,” I murmur.
“Me neither. But you are my lucky charm, so it only makes sense. With you around, I’ll always be the luckiest man in the world.”
“Okay, you’ve got me beat for the Hallmark commentary,” I snort.
He barks out a husky laugh, and I look up at him, my heart dangerously close to bursting. This night has been everything I could have dreamed of and more. I stand up on my toes and kiss him gently. The kiss is soft and slow and full of everything I’ve imagined telling him over the past few years. All of the missed moments, regrets, and longing are replaced with this moment, here and now.
When we finally break apart, we keep our foreheads pressed together.
“This time,” I whisper, my voice full of certainty, “we won’t lose each other.”
He nods, keeping our bodies touching. “This time, we’ll make our own luck.”
Parker pulls away from me and holds his hand out. My attention shifts to his hand, then back to his face, an unspoken question hanging between us.
“Dance with me.”
I giggle and take his hand with no intention of dancing. “There’s no music, though. Besides, the museum is officially closed. We should get going before they kick us out.”
“Then let’s make it quick.”
With a swift motion, he pulls me back, and I melt against his chest. We begin swaying to the sound of silence. The only thing we can hear is the quiet sound of our shoes tapping against the floor. In that moment, I know that this is going to be a core memory that I’m never going to forget.
I lose myself in him, cherishing the feeling of our bodies together in a way that’s arguably more intimate than if we were in bed together. I’m not sure how long we dance, but the moment is ruined when the sound of a stranger’s heavy footsteps grows closer down the hallway.
“Alright, Lucky. I need you to work your charm.” Parker pulls away from me and grabs my hand, a playful hint of mischief twinkling in his eye.
“What do you mean?” My eyes widen, and this only makes the grin that he’s wearing bigger.
“Run.”
Before I can argue, we’re running through The Met, hands interlocked, escaping the security guard gaining on us. And at that moment, in a fit of laughter, I know that Parker is my good luck charm, too. And with him by my side, everything is going to be okay.