Ted looked down at Tracy's sleeping face as the train chugged along, and had to resist the urge to reach down and brush her hair from her eyes. But he knew enough not to touch a sleeping woman (one he had only just met, at that) without her consent, no matter how innocent the gesture. So Ted just let himself enjoy the feel of Tracy's head on his shoulder, letting the warmth of her touch, her presence wash over him.

It just felt... right.

He wasn't sure how his night took this turn. Just two hours ago, he was waiting for a train, not quite looking forward to a new start in Chicago, but resigned to it. And then, a beautiful girl under a yellow umbrella smiled at him just right, laughed at his lame jokes, and made him question his decision to leave New York altogether.

Be cool, Teddy, he thought to himself as he picked up her guitar case, ushered her into the waiting train, and followed behind her as she picked two seats for them in the back. You always go big too soon. Don't blow your new start in Chicago for a girl you just met simply because she's... absolutely perfect.

Damn.

As they settled into their seats, the older lady from the platform appeared two rows ahead of him. She grinned at him excitedly. Embarrassed, Ted waved her off as discreetly as he could. Just be cool, lady, damn! he thought, hoping she'd get the message telepathically. Luckily, she just winked at him and sat down in her seat.

"You okay?" Tracy asked him, noticing his awkward hand motions.

"Me? Oh, yeah, I'm good. Just... stretching..." he trailed off lamely, stretching out his arms in an exaggerated fashion to prove his point. Smooth, Ted.

But she just smiled sweetly, perhaps enamoured by his awkwardness. Or maybe she's wondering how she wound up sitting next to this weirdo. Either way, Ted was sure her smile was genuine, and that he hadn't made too much of fool out of himself.

"So..." he began.

"So how did you hurt your hand?" Tracy asked, pointing at his gauzed up hand.

"Oh," he said, looking down at his hand, which was still throbbing a bit from the "high infinity" a few hours earlier. "My right hand's had quite the weekend, actually."

Tracy's eyes widened, amused. "Really!"

"Um, what I meant was," he stammered, "I high-fived my friend Barney a bit too hard tonight. And yesterday—and I'm normally not the violent type, and I'm actually more of a kicker—I ended up punching some guy in the face." Great, now she thinks I'm an idiot and a violent caveman!

But Tracy just smiled. "Yes, you punched Darren," she said knowingly.

"You know Darren?"

"Luckily, not anymore," she said with a scoff. "You punched him but good and he quit the band. You did me and my bandmates a huge service. I would've thanked you in person if I could've; so I just asked the bartender to give you a double of their best scotch."

"The Glenn McKenna 35! That was you?!"

"Yup. Thanks, truly, for doing what I couldn't. I've never been good with confrontation," Tracy admitted.

"Happy to help," Ted told her. "And, hey, I owe you a drink."

She smiled warmly. "I'll gladly take it."

This is your in! Ted yelled at himself on the inside. Ask her out. Get her number!

But all he could say was, "So, where are you from?"

As the train began its journey to Manhattan, she told him about growing up in West Orange, New Jersey. He feigned horror at the mention, but was secretly glad to have moved past his childish deal breaker. Was there really a time not that long ago when the mere mention of her home state would've sent him running in the other direction? All he could think of was how glad he was that he didn't meet her eight years earlier; he likely wouldn't had even given her a chance.

And he told her about his childhood in Shaker Heights, his quiet suburban upbringing with the two-story home and the white picket fence, which felt constraining to him as a teen, but now, the allure was all too great.

Tracy shared with him her love of music, how her parents didn't have much money during her youth, but that there was always love and music in their apartment, and how once every year, she'd assemble her birthday money and head into the city to catch a Broadway musical.

Ted told her about his love of architecture, and how he still heads to midtown on occasion just to look up at the GNB Building, sometimes not truly believing that his creation was now a reality.

And Tracy talked about how she wanted to learn every single instrument she could growing up. First there was the piano, then the violin, the cello, the accordion, the guitar, bass guitar, the ukulele...

"Wait, you play the ukulele?" Ted asked, interrupting her. He was brought back to that moment on the balcony Saturday, and the most beautiful singing voice he had ever heard. It was a brief moment, but lasting in his mind.

"Yup!" she revealed. "If you play the guitar, it's pretty easy to pick up. I practically taught myself how to play it."

"Was that you I heard playing on the balcony Saturday night? "La Vie en Rose"?" Ted asked.

Tracy blushed and looked down. "You heard that?"

"Yes," Ted admitted. "I was just sitting out there, thinking, and then I heard the most..."

She looked up at him tentatively, with what looked like a mix of curiosity, embarrassment, and even a touch of sorrow in her eyes.

Ted gulped, gazing into her wide brown eyes. "...beautiful..." He couldn't even finish his sentence, mesmerized at the thought of the moment 24 hours earlier, and now, at the girl before him.

"Thank you," Tracy whispered. "It's sort of my comfort song. My mom used to sing it to me when I was a kid, when I was sick or had a crappy day at school. I had a rough Saturday, so it... helped."

"Anything I can do to help?" Ted asked, seriously. He had this weird urge to comfort and protect her, to not have to see that pain and helplessness in her eyes ever again. "A guy I can punch, perhaps?" he joked, lifting up his injured fist.

Tracy laughed. "No, no," she assured him, putting her hand over his, gently bringing it back down to his lap, Ted reveling in her touch. "I think things are better now."

Ted cocked his head sideways. "You sure?" he asked.

"I promise. Talking to you helps," she told him.

Ted smiled, please. "Well, I'm glad! Talking is what I do best. Too well, and too much, if you ask my friends..."

So Ted told Tracy some more stories, at her urging, about his childhood, his college days, a few MacLaren's anecdotes... She was rapt with attention, asking questions, and countering his stories with a few of her own. But, for the most part, Tracy seemed happy to just sit back and listen.

After a while, he noticed her eyes occasionally fluttering shut, and she struggled to keep her head up at times.

"Hey," he said, hesitating a little before taking his finger and brushing it down her cheek. Eyes closed, she smiled at his touch. "I hope I'm not boring you."

Tracy's eyes opened, and she looked over at him. "You're not," she assured him, an embarrassed and apologetic look on her face. "I'm just tired, and you have a very soothing voice. Much like my dad's, and his stories—however long and fascinating they are—would always put me to sleep."

"I remind you of your father?" he teased. Ted clutched at his heart. "Ouch!"

"No, no!" she told him, blushing. "I have no idea why I said that. I'm so sorry. I'll stay awake, I promise."

Ted just laughed, and looked at his watch: it was 1:30 a.m. "Don't force yourself," he told her gently. "It's late, and we still have a couple of hours until we get to the city. Shut your eyes; I'll wake you up when we arrive."

Tracy gave him a sleepy, grateful smile. She leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "You're sweet," she told him softly. She settled into her seat and closed her eyes. Ted was left staring at the dozing woman next to him, lifting his hand to his cheek, feeling the warmth her lips left behind.

Fuck, I'm in trouble.

And now, here Ted was, with Tracy's head having drooped onto his shoulder soon after she had dozed off. He just stared at her for the better part of an hour, not able to look away.

He wanted to talk with her some more. They were still an hour away from the city, and he wanted that hour to get to know her more, hear her speak and laugh, to have more reason to not leave for Chicago in a few hours. But Tracy was sound asleep. He had the horrible idea of "accidentally" nudging her awake, but Ted didn't want to disturb her.

So Ted resigned himself to the fact that she was just a passing ship in his life, that destiny wasn't intervening here tonight. So he sadly settled back into his seat, gave one last longing gaze at the beautiful girl next to him, and shut his eyes for an uneasy sleep.

An hour later...

Ted fluttered his eyes open, having felt the train come to a stop in his sleep. He noticed that he and Tracy were now curled up together, her head still leaning against his shoulder, and his head had been resting gently on top of hers. In her sleep, she had wrapped her arms around one of his. He felt his heart skip a beat.

"Wake up, lovebirds!" said the elderly lady from the platform as she walked passed them on her way off the train. Ted just smiled at her, giving her a dismissive wave goodbye, as he looked down at Tracy.

This is it, he thought. Time to let go.

He leaned over and gently shook Tracy's shoulder. "Wake up," he whispered, his voice full of more emotion than it should've had. "We're here."

She wrapped her arms tighter around Ted's, and nuzzling her head against his shoulder, refusing to wake up. "Just five more minutes," she mumbled.

Ted chuckled. "Yeah, I want five more minutes, too," he murmured back. "But it's time to wake up," he said, a bit more loudly.

Tracy's eyes opened slowly, and she seemed a bit disoriented at first, unsure of where she was. She looked at her arms wrapped around his arm, and let her eyes wander up towards his face. "Hi," she said. She was still curled up against him.

"Hi," he answered, his voice slightly hoarse. "We should get going." Those were the hardest words Ted ever had to say. His heart was telling him that this girl was worth sticking around for, but his head reminded him of the many times his heart got him into trouble.

"Yeah," she whispered. She disengaged herself from Ted, and he felt the loss instantly.

He reluctantly got up to reach for their bags and her guitar from the overhead compartment. He silently handed over her weekender bag, their fingers grazing. He grabbed his bag and her guitar, stepped aside to let her pass and they slowly walked down the aisle, making their way off the train.

"You slept well?" he asked as they navigated their way across the station to the taxi stand.

"I did," she responded. "It was brief, and I know I had a nice dream, but I can't seem to remember it. Does that ever happen to you? You wake up all warm and fuzzy, and desperately wish you could remember the specifics so that you can hold onto that moment for just a little bit longer?"

"I do," he said softly. "I've definitely experienced moments that I couldn't bear to let go." Just like this one.

They made their way to the taxi stand, and were the only ones there. There was a lone taxi, and Ted wasn't ready to just let this moment pass. Just a little bit longer, he begged.

He should let her go. He should let her get into that cab, and disappear from his life forever.

"Do you want to split a cab?" he asked instead, not listening to his head.

"Sure!" she said. "So long as it's not out of your way. I'm on West 115th."

"Perfect! I'm on West 82nd!" He grabbed her bag, and placed their stuff in the trunk.

"You sure?" she asked skeptically and laughed, as he shut the trunk and ran over to hold open the door for her. "33 blocks seems like a lot..."

He ushered her into the cab and then followed her in. "No, it doesn't." 33 blocks simply isn't enough. "Besides, I'm in no hurry."

"West 115th, please," he told the cab driver as he shut the car door behind him.

And they were off, and Ted dreaded each block that went by. He wanted to use these last few moments as best he could, to soak up as much as information as he could about her, to sustain him in Chicago.

They drove in comfortable silence, though, Tracy seemingly lost in thought, occasionally peering over at Ted, and smiling at him.

Ted was lost in his own thoughts, having a mental tug-of-war, trying to decide his next move: should he stay in New York? Or should he move to Chicago?

You already have a job and an apartment lined up in Chicago! the rational side of him thought.

But if you stay in New York, you get to stay at your teaching job, and you have the opportunity to get to know this girl, his heart told him.

It's too risky. Who's to say that this girl is even the one?

Who's to say she isn't?

"Hey, Ted?" Her voice broke his train of thought. "You ok? You seem conflicted about something."

He looked over at her. "Oh, sorry. I was, um, just figuring out my plans for tomorrow."

"Anything exciting?" she inquired.

Oh, nothing special. Just uprooting my life and wondering if it's the dumbest idea in the world, he thought to himself. "Just some errands," he lied. "You?"

"I have an interview tomorrow for an internship at the United Nations," she told him. "My third one with them, actually—they're pretty thorough."

"Oh, wow," Ted said, impressed. "That's pretty amazing. Good luck."

"Thanks," she told him. "I had applied to a few non-profits in the city, too, but I have my heart set on this one, admittedly. Definitely a worthwhile summer gig following graduation."

"That's pretty awesome. Good for you, for going after what you want."

"What's the alternative?" she told him matter-of-factly. "I figure that this is what I want to do with my life, and I need to explore every avenue to make it happen. It takes a few risks, but the end result is hopefully worth it, you know?"

"Yeah," Ted said softly as the cab rolled to a stop. "I'm looking to take a few risks in my life, as well."

"West 115th!" said the driver.

"Oh, this is me," said Tracy.

"Let me help you with your stuff," Ted offered, exiting the cab with her.

He opened the trunk and pulled out her belongings, handing them over.

"It was nice talking with you tonight, Ted," she told him.

"Likewise," Ted responded. Don't let her walk away, his gut told him.

Tracy stood before him, lingering for a bit, seeming as if she wanted to say something.

"Well... good night," she eventually said. She leaned forward and gave him a hug. "Maybe I'll see you around."

"Good... night..." Ted said, as she turned around and began walking away.

It's now or never, Ted told himself. And at that moment, his decision seemed all too obvious, and all too simple.

"Hey, Tracy?" he called out to her.

She turned back. "Yes, Ted?"

"Can I... call you sometime?"

Tracy smiled widely, and walked back to him. "Hand me your phone."

He did as told, and she punched her name and number into his iPhone. "I'm glad you asked," she admitted as she handed it back.

"Me, too," he told her. "And I still owe you that drink."

"I'm looking forward to it," she told him. She gave him one last smile, and walked away. And as Ted watched her disappear into a nearby building, he was comforted knowing that he was going to see her again soon. He would make sure of it.

It started to rain, and Ted jumped back into the cab. He noticed that Tracy had left the yellow umbrella on her seat. He contemplated running after her, but he figured that she was going to see her umbrella again very shortly. If he had his way, she would never part from her yellow umbrella ever again.

"West 82nd, please," he told the cabbie.

"Home," Ted said to himself with a smile.