“Do you?”
“Nah. My dad didn’t have time for that.” He tried to laugh it off. It didn’t work.
I waited to see if he would say more. He didn’t. “You know Orion’s Belt?” I asked him.
I felt him shrug, which I took to mean no. I moved off his stomach and onto my back, pressing our heads almost together. I took his hand in mine and pointed out three bright stars with our fingers. “Alnitak,” I said for the first star. “Alnilam,” for the second. And, “Mintaka,” for the third. “My dad said Orion was a great hunter, the son of Poseidon, the sea god. He could supposedly walk on the waves because of that. He once went hunting with the goddess Artemis and her mother Leto. For some reason, during the hunt, he said he was going to kill every creature on the planet. Mother Earth hated him for this and sent a giant scorpion to kill him. And it did. The goddesses then asked Zeus to place him in the stars. Zeus agreed, and as a memorial to Orion’s death, he also added the scorpion to the sky as well.” I took his hand and moved south, tracing over the other constellation. “And that is where Orion and Scorpius are still locked in battle.” I lowered our hands but I didn’t let go. He placed my hand on his chest. His heartbeat was soft.
A moment later, he turned his head toward me. Our noses almost touched. His dark eyes searched mine. I waited.
“You’re so smart,” he whispered finally.
I flushed. “Nah. Just something my dad taught me. I liked the story, so I remembered it. That’s all.” I didn’t look away. I couldn’t.
He reached out and touched my cheek. “That’s not all.”
We watched each other quietly until I finally worked up the courage to ask what I’d been thinking for hours. “Vince?”
“Yeah?”
“Is this for real?”
“What?”
“You know.” I swallowed. “You and me.”
No hesitation. “It is.”
“Okay.”
He watched me. “If you need me to, I’ll tell you every day it’s real.”
“Okay.”
“It’s real.”
“Okay.”
“Paul?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Just make sure you—”
And then he kissed me.
Chapter 11
The GPS In My Prius Wants To Murder Me
“YOU laid out and watched the stars and then he kissed you?” Sandy asked as we drove in my car the next day. “I love it, but I also think I threw up a little bit in my mouth. And got cavities from all the sweetness. And then threw up again just to say I did. It’s precious, like I expect a crack whore with a heart of gold would be.”
“Thank you for that ringing endorsement,” I said, trying not to get mad at the GPS on my dashboard that was trying to convince me to drive off the road and into a ditch. For some reason, my GPS (appropriately nicknamed That Damn Bitch) hated me and tended to get more sarcastic when it had to recalculate. I’m not joking either. There’s nothing like hearing the female robotic voice say “Recalculating… recalculating,” when you can also hear the implied “dumbass” you just know she wants to say.
“Turn left in thirty feet,” That Damn Bitch said.
“We’re on a bridge!” I scowled at her.
“I think you’re the only person in the world that has a homicidal GPS,” Sandy observed. “What the hell did you do to That Damn Bitch to make her hate you?”
“I didn’t do anything!” I said, slightly offended. “She came with the car and she was already pissed off when I got it. I try not to use her that much, but I don’t know where the fuck this stupid bike shop is. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the bike-riding type.”
“Recalculating,” That Damn Bitch snapped at me.
“Fuck off,” I told her.
“What happens when you and Vince get married and he wants to go on a bike-riding tour of Asia for your honeymoon?” Sandy asked.
I glared at him. “Do I even need to tell you how many things are wrong with what you just said? I’m going to anyway. At least sixteen things.”
Sandy laughed. “You say that now, but I bet if this were a movie, there’d be an ironic flash cut one year into the future that would show you huffing and puffing up a hill on a bike in the Hainan Province in China wearing an ‘I just got husband-fucked grin’ on your face while Vince is riding ahead of you screaming about how much he loves you and Asia.”
“None of what you said is going to be a real thing,” I assured him. “And I wouldn’t huff and puff. I’d be riding the bicycle magnificently. Wearing a kimono that would flow gently in the breeze.”