she glances toward our half-eaten dinner. “Now, you two finish your meal. We need you strong and healthy out there.”
Immediately, Mrs. Getty realizes she has brought up a topic that we’ve been trying to avoid all night. She walks quickly into the room and stands next to Mr. Getty. Putting her hand to her mouth, she nervously mumbles, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up the—”
Mr. Getty softly interrupts, “It’s okay, sweetheart. They know you meant well. Here, let’s give them some privacy to enjoy the rest of their dinner.”
Mr. Getty puts his arm around Mrs. Getty, pulling her to him. She leans into him, putting her head on his shoulder. They both close their eyes for a moment. The looks on their faces are peaceful and content. They’re completely connected as if they are linked together.
I’ve imagined that Nate and I share similar looks on our faces when we are linked.
Mr. and Mrs. Getty walk back toward the doorway. I watch the way he’s holding her around her waist while she has her arm on his back. The attraction they have for each other is constant, solid, and more than just physical.
I look down at my hand, linked together with Nate’s. I wonder if their link started with a physical attraction, like ours, and then turned into a bond with emotions and love. We have many years to go from the physical link to an emotional bond.
Pulling my hand away from Nate, I walk back to the table. We finish our food in silence. After we are sated, we sit back in our chairs, taking in the atmosphere, the music, and the water falling into the pond.
Nate looks up beyond the incandescent lights that are strung from tree to tree to the crystal-clear glass ceiling. “God, the sky is truly beautiful tonight.”
I follow his gaze. “Yes, it is.”
The stars are so bright against tonight’s onyx backdrop. Worry takes over when I think of how our night sky might change in a matter of weeks due to the coming intersection. Will we have stars? Will we even have nighttime for that matter? Or will it be daytime eternally?
I wipe my mouth with my napkin, and then I toss it on the table. I try to bring out my playful attitude. “Alright, here’s another normal date question.”
Nate rolls his eyes and chuckles, amused by my playfulness. “Okay, go for it.”
I sigh. “How many girls have you kissed?”
Nate laughs. “What?”
He seems to be waiting for me to retract the question, but I don’t. I can tell by the flush of his cheeks that this one has gotten under his skin, but I’m not about to let it go.
Nate seems to realize that I’m not going to relent. He replies, “I don’t know. Maybe ten or a dozen.”
I’m not surprised by his answer, but I act like I am, and I make a huge deal out of it. “Gosh, Nate! What a player!”
Nate attempts to retaliate. “Alright, alright. Your turn, hot stuff. How many have you kissed?”
I pretend that I’m counting off names in my head, using my fingers as tallies. I hear Nate grumble under his breath at my game, and it makes me laugh.
Then, he comes into my mind—Xander. I’m grateful now that Nate and I agreed to block one another from the other’s thoughts because I know Nate would not appreciate my line of thinking.
I remember Xander pulling me into him without hesitation, and then he kissed me. Nate and I have kissed quite a bit since then, but Xander’s kiss was different from Nate’s. It wasn’t just the strong energy coursing through my body and drawing me to him like it was with Nate. When Xander’s lips collided with mine the night he left Miami, it was like a fire of emotions ignited within me.
Putting my elbows on the table, I fold my hands in front of my lips and graze them with my touch, trying to remove the memory of that kiss. It’s impossible. I can’t make my lips or myself forget. I feel my cheeks getting red as my pulse quickens.
Nate observes my obvious reaction to his question, and he chuckles a little. “Jes, are
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