speak. “So, I’m a Libra, and you’re a Gemini. Are we compatible?”
I sigh and turn to look out the window. Talking to him about Oliver has shifted something with him, with us. “How can you ask me that?” I shake my head. “I don’t know what the charts or whatever would say about us, but I think we’re pretty fucking compatible.” It bothers me that he could question that.
He’s my best friend and the best lover I’ve ever known. During every part of my day—when I’m lecturing or leading a class discussion, when I’m grading work, or when I’m riding on the MARTA—he’s on my mind, around the edges of every thought. And knowing he’s there makes me happy. I love him, and I feel loved in return. That’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
What happened in our closet the other night has shaken him, even though that’s the last thing I want. It’s why I’ve kept quiet about it for so long.
“Hey,” he says. I let my eyes close, and he gives my hands a small squeeze until I open them to look at him again. “It’s strange to be invited inside this wall. You talk about Auburn and Emory all the time, but you’ve never said anything about high school. I don’t even know if you went to your senior prom, Violet. It’s like your life began when you left New Orleans.”
“It did.”
He leans back in his seat and breaks our contact when the waitress arrives with our brunch. I want to reach for his hand again the moment she walks away, but that kind of desperation would be hard to explain, especially when I’m trying to convince both of us that everything’s fine.
“That’s obviously not true.”
“High school was shitty, okay?” I laugh a little and unroll my silverware from my napkin. “I don’t dwell on it. It was a lifetime ago, and it sucked. Someone tried to add me to a Facebook group for my ten-year reunion that’s coming up next summer, and I declined. That’s not an unusual thing. Lots of people hated high school.”
“There’s no need to be defensive.” He looks down at his plate. “I want you to be able to talk to me. Is that so terrible?”
“Only when you question our astrological compatibility.” It earns a smile from him, one I’m happy to take. “Yes, I went to my senior prom. I’ll answer any question you want to know the answer to, but please don’t bring Miss Verity’s crystal ball into this. I’ve never asked if Libra and Gemini are compatible, because I don’t care.”
He nods. “Okay. No more stupid questions. Deal?”
We tap our forks in agreement.
“Deal,” I say.
We’ve been on a health kick lately, eating veggies and drinking fruit smoothies, so the poor omelets don’t stand a chance. This place makes the best hash browns, too.
Over breakfast, we make promises to spend extra time in the gym next week. Then we remember I’ll be leaving without him on Tuesday for New Orleans.
“You’ll have to work out on your own, I guess.”
“While you sleep late and eat Miss Verity’s cooking down south. If I don’t get my schedule worked out, I’m getting the shit end of that stick.”
For the first time, we both laugh about the possibility of not being together until Christmas Day. This isn’t the first time we’ve hit a bump in the road, and it certainly won’t be the last.
“I’m going to make a trip to the restroom before we hit the road again,” I say, standing and stretching my arms above my head. “If we’re lucky, we may not have to stop again.”
Wade laughs as he swipes his thumb across the screen of his phone to unlock it. “With your tiny bladder? That’s some seriously wishful thinking.” He glances up at me with a smile so cute and so much like the first one he ever gave me.
My palms itch to reach out and touch him—his face, his hand, anything. I’ve been drawn to his light since the moment I met him. “You love me, tiny bladder and all.” I keep my tone easy but don’t bother to mask what I’m looking for.
He
I sigh and turn to look out the window. Talking to him about Oliver has shifted something with him, with us. “How can you ask me that?” I shake my head. “I don’t know what the charts or whatever would say about us, but I think we’re pretty fucking compatible.” It bothers me that he could question that.
He’s my best friend and the best lover I’ve ever known. During every part of my day—when I’m lecturing or leading a class discussion, when I’m grading work, or when I’m riding on the MARTA—he’s on my mind, around the edges of every thought. And knowing he’s there makes me happy. I love him, and I feel loved in return. That’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
What happened in our closet the other night has shaken him, even though that’s the last thing I want. It’s why I’ve kept quiet about it for so long.
“Hey,” he says. I let my eyes close, and he gives my hands a small squeeze until I open them to look at him again. “It’s strange to be invited inside this wall. You talk about Auburn and Emory all the time, but you’ve never said anything about high school. I don’t even know if you went to your senior prom, Violet. It’s like your life began when you left New Orleans.”
“It did.”
He leans back in his seat and breaks our contact when the waitress arrives with our brunch. I want to reach for his hand again the moment she walks away, but that kind of desperation would be hard to explain, especially when I’m trying to convince both of us that everything’s fine.
“That’s obviously not true.”
“High school was shitty, okay?” I laugh a little and unroll my silverware from my napkin. “I don’t dwell on it. It was a lifetime ago, and it sucked. Someone tried to add me to a Facebook group for my ten-year reunion that’s coming up next summer, and I declined. That’s not an unusual thing. Lots of people hated high school.”
“There’s no need to be defensive.” He looks down at his plate. “I want you to be able to talk to me. Is that so terrible?”
“Only when you question our astrological compatibility.” It earns a smile from him, one I’m happy to take. “Yes, I went to my senior prom. I’ll answer any question you want to know the answer to, but please don’t bring Miss Verity’s crystal ball into this. I’ve never asked if Libra and Gemini are compatible, because I don’t care.”
He nods. “Okay. No more stupid questions. Deal?”
We tap our forks in agreement.
“Deal,” I say.
We’ve been on a health kick lately, eating veggies and drinking fruit smoothies, so the poor omelets don’t stand a chance. This place makes the best hash browns, too.
Over breakfast, we make promises to spend extra time in the gym next week. Then we remember I’ll be leaving without him on Tuesday for New Orleans.
“You’ll have to work out on your own, I guess.”
“While you sleep late and eat Miss Verity’s cooking down south. If I don’t get my schedule worked out, I’m getting the shit end of that stick.”
For the first time, we both laugh about the possibility of not being together until Christmas Day. This isn’t the first time we’ve hit a bump in the road, and it certainly won’t be the last.
“I’m going to make a trip to the restroom before we hit the road again,” I say, standing and stretching my arms above my head. “If we’re lucky, we may not have to stop again.”
Wade laughs as he swipes his thumb across the screen of his phone to unlock it. “With your tiny bladder? That’s some seriously wishful thinking.” He glances up at me with a smile so cute and so much like the first one he ever gave me.
My palms itch to reach out and touch him—his face, his hand, anything. I’ve been drawn to his light since the moment I met him. “You love me, tiny bladder and all.” I keep my tone easy but don’t bother to mask what I’m looking for.
He
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