We don't say anything as we head off. I have no idea where we are going, and honestly, I don't care, as long as I get to spend time with Mark. 

Not knowing what to say, I just feel content walking by his side and enjoying his proximity. All of this is so new and strange for me. 

Although I have no idea what to think about the whole situation, I am determined not to back down. It feels crucial to investigate these emotions that keep swirling around my heart every time I am close to Mark. 

As for Mark, he is not his usual confident self. He seems nervous. He treats me like a porcelain doll that may break if he does anything, even breathe in my general direction. 

Honestly, I feel a bit annoyed that I make him feel like he has to be this cautious. Maybe he is just being polite, not wanting to assume anything. 

"So, where are we going?" I ask, burning with curiosity. 

That is when I notice him finally relaxing, and it makes me feel warm inside.

"Well, honestly, I thought we would both be more comfortable if we did something new for both of us. So I signed us up for sip and paint." Mark answers, looking carefully to gauge my reaction. 

All he can see is confusion because I am confused as hell. 

"What is that?" I ask cautiously. 

"Well, it's like a painting class, only you sip wine while doing it. I thought it might be a relaxing atmosphere, and we could get to know each other better. Is that okay?" He asks, suddenly sounding very unsure of himself. 

"Yeah, yeah, that actually sounds interesting. I rarely get to try new things, so I think it would be fun," I say, trying to smile but failing miserably because of how nervous I am. 

"Remember, this is new for me as well, so we can be bad at it together. If we don't like it, we can at least get some drinks out of it," Mark says reassuringly, and I suddenly feel much better. 

It is so strange. This hanging out doesn't sound like it will be anything like what I predicted. Usually, I would have a problem with that, but now I don't actually mind. I get to spend time with Mark, and that makes me feel better than I thought possible.

As we arrive there, I realize that I like the place. It is an average room filled with easels and wine. We choose a spot next to the window, and it is simply magical. Thus, we can paint while looking at the snow outside, which gives me certain serenity that I never felt before. I am not a good painter, but the setting is just perfect for having a relaxing time. 

Also, the wine is delicious, and I am grateful for it. It helps me relax and just be myself. We start chatting about everything and anything, and it makes me feel warm and comfortable. 

I stop worrying about defining my feelings. I just keep enjoying Mark's company. He is so funny and witty that I cherish every second of his company. 

After a while, he peeks at my painting, and he seems to like it even though it is not a good one, as far as I can tell. 

"Maybe you can add some sunshine to this painting," he says, and suddenly his hand is over mine, and he is guiding my hand. 

I feel chills running through my whole body and the powerful tingling sensation in my hand. 

His skin is so warm and so comfortable that I don't try to pull my hand out like I usually would. 

The truth is, I don't want to stop feeling his smooth skin on mine. It feels so utterly good. He is so close that I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

We finish the sun, but he is still holding my hand, and I start feeling a bit awkward. Why is he doing that?

He shifts his eyes from the easel and looks at me. His eyes are questioning, and I can see a hint of fear in them. Fear of being rejected, and I am not sure if I can say no to him, whatever the question might be. 

It would feel so wrong to crush him like that, but still, I don't want him to hold my hand, do I? 

I act like a teenager, even in my own head. However, there are too many emotions battling inside me that I have never felt before.  They are making my heart beat faster and my face blush. 

Still looking deep into my eyes, Mark uses his other hand to brush my hair aside and rests it on my cheek. 

I lean into the touch unconsciously and sigh. 

When I hear myself produce such a needy sight, I gently pull myself from him, not wanting to hurt his feelings but also unsure of what I feel.

He lets go of me immediately as if he expected my reaction, feared it even. 

"I think we should go. The paintings are finished, and we ran out of wine," I say, smiling gently to reassure Mark that everything is fine.

"Yeah, sure. Can I see you again?" He asks with worry in his eyes. 

I can see him struggling with himself and berating himself for scaring me off. 

"Of course, text me, and we will talk about it," I say.

He seems relieved by my answer, and he smiles tenderly at me. 

We get to the coffee shop where he works, and though I know we should say goodbye, I don't want to.