He nods.
“What are the pipes?”
“Four spokes. Four directions.”
“A compass?” My eyes widen as the vision fills my head. “A window to the world? Is that it?”
“Pretty much.”
“Traveling in any direction. Every direction?” It’s so…Anthony. “That’s kind of brilliant.”
“Don’t look at me like that, Mai.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re seeing more than there is.”
I don’t know how to say I’m not. That the problem is I haven’t been seeing enough. If he worked at this, really committed… In my mind, I’m already making lists of where he should start. What he should do. “You know Community Cares offers grants?”
“What?”
“Not just for college. You can apply for a grant to pursue artistic endeavors, too. We’ve had a playwright before and a painter.” I gesture to the piece on his work table. “You could pursue this with some extra money and a community mentor in your area of interest. Anthony, this is perfect.”
“Slow down, Mai.” He steps back, shaking his head. “I’m not ready for all of that. Okay? I’m still figuring it out.”
I blink, wondering what there is to figure out. “It’s a great opportunity and something you want to do.”
“Why do you even care? You’re leaving in a week. You’re not going to ever see me again.” His chin juts out at that last bit. “I heard you say that to Grant.”
It takes a minute for me to remember the morning on the trail. I wince, thinking about how that must have sounded.
“Did you mean it?” he asks.
“I don’t know what I meant. What I mean. This hasn’t worked out the way it was supposed to.” I draw in a breath, the muggy heat of the garage. The scent of grease. Wood. Metal. Anthony. In a way, everything’s changed because of the things I’ve learned. The way I feel. But in other ways, nothing has.
I think of what Mom and Dad always say. Think it through. If you can’t make logic of something, then why do it? Even now, this defies all logic. I hear their voices in my head. Ethan’s. Even Josie’s.
You’re leaving, Mai. You have a plan.
He doesn’t want the same future.
He could never fit in with your life.
It’s not practical.
This isn’t like you.
It isn’t. Nothing about this fling is like me.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“That I wish things were different.”
I look into his face, the lights above adding a sharpness to his cheeks. A sadness to his eyes. “Too bad we can’t live in a garage with just two people and no expectations.”
“And no plans already made. No paths already laid out.”
“Exactly.”
“We still have over a week.” He steps closer. “That’s at least eight months in dog time.”
I step closer, too. “Thousands of organisms go through their entire life span in less than a week.”
“See? Plenty of time.” He takes the final step that brings him close enough to slide his fingers through mine. His voice is a whisper above my ear. “You remember what Rita said, the teacher in the cooking class? About chemistry?”
I blink, trying to focus. “About if you understood it, you could control it?”
He nods.
“I remember.”
“That’s what we need to do. Understand our chemistry. Break it down. Figure out how to control it.”
My pulse skips. “A clinical study. We approach a kiss in a methodical, analytical way.”
“Take away the magic.”
“You like the magic,” I remind him.
“The magic right now is kind of killing me.”
I slide my hands up his neck. My carefully trained brain knows this isn’t a good idea, but tonight I don’t care. The magic is killing me, too. His breath mingles with mine. “Slowly,” I say, working my fingers through his hair.
“Right. Slowly.” He slides one hand over my cheek, and his touch is a little rough and completely perfect. He brushes his lips over mine, and I sigh. He goes slow until I forget why slow mattered. Until I’ve got my hands in his shirt, pulling him close. I want to forget everything but how good this feels. For the first time, my brain refuses to shut down, whispering to my heart: You liar. A week isn’t enough time. Not even close.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Anthony
“You smell like sunlight.”
Mai straightens, resting her gloved hand on the handle of her rake. “The sun doesn’t have a scent.”
“It does on you.” I take the last few steps down the trail so I’m just above her, the rocky wall of the hillside behind me, and Mai in front, the sun creating a golden halo effect around her. Even dressed in baggy work clothes, every time I see her it’s like a shot of espresso hits my veins.
She glances behind me.
“The others are up above dealing with a cholla that won’t behave.”
“Oh.” Her smile lights me up. We’re alone, and she wants that, too.
It’s Saturday morning, and I was up before my alarm. I couldn’t wait to get here. To see Mai. All morning, I’ve had the scents of grease and Mai in my head. The things we said.
The things we did.
I step closer. “You’re wearing an extremely sexy shade of beige today.”
“Quiet.” She checks the trail again. “And it’s not beige. It’s fawn.” She looks down. “Or maybe oatmeal.”
“You can’t wear oatmeal and not expect to make me wild.”
She loses hold of her grin. “Stop being in such a good mood.”
“Can’t help it. I’m having a fling with this girl.”
“Really?”
“And last night was…excellent.”
She clears her throat, a rush of color darkening her cheeks. “We did spend some quality time at second base.”
I pull down my sunglasses to give her a heavy-lidded look. “Yeah, we did.”
She pushes her rake through the dirt, kicking up dust and sending a few cut branches over the side of the trail. My voice comes out husky, my throat is so dry. “We have to talk.”