And because I’m afraid that if I look at him I’ll just start licking his face in front of my students and Miguel’s mom and a bunch of tourists.
“Emilia,” he says from right next to me, voice deep and low and reverberating all around my belly.
“Yes?”
“Go take your contacts out. You won’t be able to see the planetarium show otherwise, and it’s gorgeous. You should see it.”
I clench my jaw and check my watch. Except I can’t really see what time it is because my fucking eyesight is blurry. “Fine. You go sit in the middle of the row and save the end seat for me.” I remove my jean jacket and place it on the end seat. “That’s my seat.”
“Yes. It is.”
I tell my buddy Chloe to stick with our group and rush out to the restroom so I can remove these stupid contacts.
When I hurry back to the planetarium from the ladies’ room, I am completely gobsmacked by how gorgeous this place is, now that I can see a bit more clearly. And I’m so mad that I can’t dance around it with Alex Vega when it’s empty, like in La La Land. But I can’t think about that now.
When I get to our row and the end seat with my jean jacket on it, even in the dim light with my less than perfect vision, I can tell that the person in the seat next to it is not a child and has not been one for quite some time.
“Why aren’t you sitting in the middle of the row?”
“Shhh.” He holds his sexy index finger up to his sexy mouth and gestures for me to sit down. “Show’s about to start.”
Ryder is sitting on the other side of him, so I guess it’s not like he’s going to try to make out with me or anything.
“Hi, Miss Stiles.” Ryder waves at me. “I’m having fun today, thanks.”
“Oh, I’m glad, Ryder.”
“Are you?”
“Yes, it’s pretty great here.” I lean back into the seat and stare up at the images that are projected onto the domed ceiling.
It’s also kind of terrible.
Because even with the entire galaxy projected above and around us, I am still only aware of Alex Vega beside me.
Even with a row of fifteen students spread out to the right of us, it feels like my clitoris is the center of the universe again.
Especially now that I’ve placed my arm on the armrest. His forearm is less than an inch away from mine. And it is a bewildering and dangerous inch. I am so glad that the surround sound theme music and announcer’s deep voice is drowning out my insane heartbeat. I can’t seem to stop myself from sneaking a peek at his profile. That Adam’s apple. He’s so focused on the domed screen. He absentmindedly strokes at his chin with his right hand, and…the pinky finger of his left hand grazes the pinky finger of my right hand.
It’s the slightest touch, but it sets off a rumbling through the center of me.
I realize it’s as futile as attempting to stop the Big Bang from happening, but I have to try.
He continues to stare up at the screen, ostensibly giving this show his full attention, even though he is somehow managing to attend to my entire body simply by stroking my finger with his.
We are all made of stardust, as we have learned today, and my body seems to have some kind of cosmic connection to Alex Vega’s.
It can’t possibly be any other kind of connection than physical, but right now that feels like so much more than enough.
I had survived on almost enough for so long.
Maybe for the next few minutes, here in the thundering darkness that is illuminated by the Milky Way, maybe when no one is looking, I can let one tiny supernova through.
And as if he can read my thoughts, he moves his hand the tiniest bit and lightly drags the tip of his index finger up and down in the V space between the knuckles of my index and middle finger as I clutch the end of the armrest.
And this.
Just this.
This is all it takes to set off a series of tiny explosions of star matter inside me.
Because I know that we’re both thinking of the place where we really want him to be stroking me right now.
But I don’t even need it.
Because just this.
It’s not a violent burst that creates a universe, but I can feel my world expanding, my inner temperature rising, bit by bit, and it’s only a matter of time until it will be impossible for me to maintain any space between us.
Chapter Fifteen
ALEX: You get back home okay?
EMILIA: Yes. Did you?
ALEX: I’m home, but I never want to see or hear another child other than my own again for a very long time. I don’t even know how you do this every day. Teachers should be paid a million dollars a year for this.
EMILIA: Well, I do mostly enjoy it. I would gladly do this job for half a million a year. But thank you for saying that.
ALEX: Do people not say it enough?
EMILIA: Hah! No. People do not. Although, I do get some very nice art projects for Teacher Appreciation Week.
ALEX: Well, every week is Teacher Appreciation Week for me from now on. Although many of the things I appreciate about you cannot be expressed in a macaroni and glitter art project.
EMILIA: You’d be surprised. I’ve received some pretty suggestive art project gifts from boys.
ALEX: Is it weird that I’m a little jealous of the boys who get to be in your class?
EMILIA: Yes. Now stop talking and go sit in the corner by yourself. I want you to think about what a bad boy you’ve been until I say you can leave.
EMILIA: Shit. Pretend I didn’t send that text.
EMILIA: Alex. That was totally inappropriate of me. I apologize. Stop texting me when I’m drinking wine!
EMILIA: Are you there?
ALEX: I’m waiting for you to tell me when I can leave the corner, Miss Stiles.
EMILIA: Okay, but seriously—forget I said that!!! That wasn’t supposed to sound as flirty as it came out.
ALEX: Keep telling yourself that.
EMILIA:
ALEX: You’re a funny woman.
EMILIA: No I’m not.
ALEX: Yeah. You are.
EMILIA: No one has ever told me I’m funny before. Like, ever.
ALEX: Maybe you’re only funny for me.
EMILIA: Maybe I’m only funny TO you.
ALEX: Or both.
EMILIA: Or because of you.
EMILIA: Are you still there?
ALEX: I think you’ll find that I’m always here for you, Emilia.
ALEX: Are you still there?
EMILIA: You can’t keep saying things like that to me.
ALEX: Then stop talking to me.
EMILIA: I’m trying to!!! I just wanted to thank you again. For helping me with the eye thing.
ALEX: You’re welcome. When can I see you again?
EMILIA: Alex… We’re lucky no one saw you touching my hand today.
ALEX: I’m pretty sure you enjoyed that.
EMILIA: That is beside the point!!!
EMILIA: And obviously, yes.
EMILIA: A lot, yes.
EMILIA: But I’m still getting my bearings here at a new school. And the other reasons I gave last month still stand. Plus, I’m not ready to get stabbed in the face by Miss Farrell.
ALEX: I can be surprisingly discreet if necessary.
EMILIA: Alex. I can’t seem to hide how I feel about you. No matter how much I try. And I can’t ask you to wait for me. But I am asking you to wait for a better time.
ALEX: Do you want me to stop texting you?
EMILIA:
ALEX:
EMILIA: Please?
ALEX: Yes. As long as you’re good with me being the kind of friend who is constantly picturing you naked.
EMILIA: I could use a friend like that around here, to be honest. Franklin is constantly picturing me with different clothes on. I’m just a disappointing Barbie to him.
ALEX: I have to go
make Ryder dinner now. Good night, new friend.
EMILIA: Good night, naked friend.
EMILIA: Shit, I meant new friend.
EMILIA: Let’s say we’re pen pals instead.
EMILIA: Good night.
EMILIA: Hey. Ryder seemed uncharacteristically low-key at school today. I hope you don’t mind me asking if he’s okay?
ALEX: Hi. He’s okay. We FaceTimed with his mom last night, but she was kind of unfocused. It was a short call. He’s starting to miss her, that’s all.
EMILIA: I’m sorry to hear that. Poor guy.
ALEX: He’ll be fine.
EMILIA: He’s a remarkably upbeat boy, isn’t he?
ALEX: He is. I hope he stays that way. Has he been behaving himself in class lately?
EMILIA: He has. To a degree.
ALEX: Uh-oh.
EMILIA: It was kind of cute, actually. I had them talk about someone they admire today. He talked about you, of course. He said you’re very good at barbecue. Any kind of meat. He said you say the secret’s in the sauce.
ALEX: All true.
EMILIA: He said you’re teaching him how to barbecue but he’s not allowed to do it himself yet. And that you told him that “real men know how to barbecue.”
ALEX: Also true.
EMILIA: And then he looked right at me and said, “So if you want some real man meat and special sauce then you should come to my dad’s house for dinner. AND dessert.”
ALEX:
EMILIA: You are both very skilled at skirting the edge of trouble, Mr. Vega.
ALEX: Don’t fool yourself, Miss Stiles. So are you.
ALEX: But I think Ryder actually wants me to date you. Have you noticed that?
EMILIA: Did he say that?
ALEX: No. But he’s also never invited any woman other than his mother out for gelato with us or to our house for some man meat before.
EMILIA: Well, I don’t know that it was a formal invitation.
ALEX: You’re also very skilled at skirting the issue, Miss Stiles.
EMILIA: I have to grade papers now. I just wanted to check in on Ryder.
ALEX: Roger that.
EMILIA: I’m a little surprised that neither you nor Ryder are here for Math Night at Silver Lake Elementary School. It’s for the whole family, you know?
ALEX: Do people actually show up for that?
EMILIA: None of the fun people do. But don’t tell anyone I said that.
ALEX: Well, I’m about to leave for a dinner meeting with a producer and Ryder’s with my parents. But even if we were available, we wouldn’t be there.
EMILIA: That’s a shame. I’ve always enjoyed games that are defined by clear mathematical parameters.
ALEX: If you’re trying to turn me off by being such a huge nerd, it’s not working.
EMILIA: Do you ever participate in after school events with Ryder?
ALEX: If you want to see me after school, with or without Ryder, just say so.
ALEX: If not, then I’d rather not see you again until I can kiss you again. And again.
EMILIA: Are you dating someone else?
ALEX: I’m not sure what you mean by “someone else” since I’m not dating anyone at the moment.
ALEX: Are you?
EMILIA: No.
ALEX: That’s a shame. You should probably get back to the not-fun people now. Good night.
EMILA: Yeah. Good night.
16
Alex
The thing about having a crush on someone when things with that person aren’t really going anywhere is that wherever you go, you’re just a little crushed when you don’t find them there.
It’s better than not having anyone to look for, I guess.
There’s still a sense of longing, only it’s attached to someone specific now.
But it makes every beautiful October day that passes all the more poignant because Emilia Stiles isn’t with me to experience it.
Even here, in the happiest fucking place on earth, with some of my favorite people in the world, thousands of strangers, and one old lady who will forever scare the ever-loving shit out of me every time she looks at me.
I am fully aware that Nico’s grandmother is a nice, good person, but that doesn’t stop the Jaws theme from playing in my head whenever she’s around.
We’ve been at Disneyland for about two hours now. Nico, Shane, and I have our kids with us. Grammie's in town to help out with the twins because Willa is in her final trimester, and since Nico's wife is newly pregnant and finishing up a documentary film, she's also helping with his stepson, Tate. Shanico sent their wives to a spa for the day, and Grammie Todd is here so that there’s one kid per adult. And I’m pretty sure she’s also here to practice her side-eye on me. She’s really good at it. Still, I’m glad she’s here. All the Halloween decorations and activities have the kids even more amped up than usual.
Shane’s got a lifetime VIP Gold pass for the parks, but he doesn’t like to do the VIP guided tour, so we’re all standing in the very long line for Pirates of the Caribbean like everyone else. We aren’t even through the entrance to the courtyard queue yet. I pull out my phone—to check the time but also to check to see if Emilia happened to text me. I did tell her that I don’t want to see her unless I can kiss her, but I do still like it when her name pops up on my screen. It’s been a few days since I’ve heard from her.
And it looks like it may be another few days. I could always go by the school to see Ryder in the Halloween parade, but I’ve got a meeting and it’s not like we’d really get to talk then anyway. It’s not like it wouldn’t hurt just a little to see her and not touch her.
While I’m staring at my phone, I see a notification on the iMessages app and immediately open it. But it’s from Nova. Again. She’s in China now, so it’s been difficult scheduling a good time for us to call each other. I’ve gotten three messages and two missed FaceTime calls from her since we got here. She must be up really early there, which is never a good sign. I send off a quick text to let her know we’re going on a ride and can’t talk now. And then check for a message from Emilia yet again.
“Did she text? Did she call?” Nico makes a pouty face at me.
Asshole.
I told them about Emilia.
Nico thinks I should push the envelope.
Shane thinks I should wait until Ryder’s out of her class.
I don’t even talk about her with anyone else because I already know that any other guy would tell me to screw around with other women so I’m not hung up on her anymore—and they aren’t wrong.
But neither is Nico.
Or Shane.
So I’m more fucked than usual, even though I’m only fucking my hand.
Yo ho, yo ho, a single dad’s life for me.
Shane asks Summer how many packets of gummi bears she has hidden on her person and then pats my back, grinning. “I’m sure she’ll text. I’m sure she’ll call,” he says, like every female best friend of every woman on the planet. “She probably just lost her phone.”
“Yeah, man.” Nico strokes my head. “I’m sure she’s just really super busy in someplace that doesn’t have cell phone reception, but she’s thinking about you all the time.”
Suck my balls, I mouth to them.
“My contract with Disney forbids me from doing that in public, unfortunately,” Shane quips. “Otherwise, you know I would.”
“What do you think, Shane?” Nico raises one of his annoyingly perfect eyebrows. “Lazy wingmen?”
Shane nods at him and scans the crowd. He has his sights set on a group of very young women who look like they’re on a gymnastics team. “Hey, ladies,” he mumbles while pulling out a water bottle from his fifty-pound backpack. “My boy Alex over here is single.” He hands the water to Lucky before his son even has to ask for it.
Nico raises his chin at a frazzled middle-aged woman who is trying to wrangle three kids, about ten
feet from us. “Hey,” he mutters. “This guy’s pretty nice. You want his number?” And then he pulls a baggie full of Cocoa Puffs out from the inside of his jacket and gives it to Tate.
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