And then, before I even quite realize what’s happening—before I have time to memorize the look on his face and the shape of his lips, all the things I know I’ll want to remember later when I replay this in my head—he leans down and kisses me, and all the dizziness of before, of last night when his face was so close and a moment ago when I saw those numbers on the screen, of the way the world tilted when the newscaster said the wordthirteenand the way all the colors of the room blurred when he twirled me around, they’re nothing compared to this.
My heart is a yo-yo, whizzing up and down, and he’s the one pulling the string. Only I didn’t ever know it could go this high.
In all the times I imagined this, I didn’t know.
He’s all electricity right now—like a balloon about to pop or a soda about to fizz over—and I can feel it in his kiss, in the way he presses his lips against mine, the way he tightens his arms around my waist, pulling me as close as possible.
Then, just as quickly, he lets go.
I take an uneven step backward, still reeling.
“This is crazy,” he says, practically skipping away. He lopes over to the kitchen, then paces back toward the TV, running his hands through his hair so that it stands out all over like someone has shocked him. For a second I think he’s talking about the kiss, but then realize—of course—he means the lottery.
I stare at him, still somewhere else entirely.
He just kissed me,I think, my head too crowded for anything else, even something as big as millions of dollars.Teddy McAvoy just kissed me.
Maybe last night wasn’t a mistake after all. Maybe it wasn’t a fluke.
Maybe it was a beginning.
The thought sends a thrill through me.
“What are you supposed to do when this happens?” he asks, and when I simply blink at him he gives me an impatient look. “Al. C’mon. Focus. What do we do? Call a lawyer or something, right? Or hide the ticket? I think I heard you’re supposed to put it in a safe, maybe? We don’t have a safe. We only have a cookie jar. Maybe we should Google this and figure out what to do.”
“I think the first thing,” I say, snapping back again, “is to actuallyfindthe ticket.”
“Right,” he says, and stops abruptly. “Right!”
But he just stands there as if awaiting further instruction.
“Why don’t you go check your pockets from last night?” I suggest, my heart still pounding, and without answering he bounds off toward his room, emerging a few seconds later with a look of utter despair.
“It’s not there,” he says, his face ashen. He puts both hands on his head and lets out a strangled groan. “I don’t know where…I have no idea what I did with it. I’m such an idiot.Suchan idiot.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “It has to be around here somewhere, right?”
We search the entire apartment in a kind of frenzied scavenger hunt, undoing—room by room—all the work we’ve just done to clean it up. We fish through drawers and check under his bed, tear open cabinets and toss around clothes. We dump out the garbage can in the bathroom and scan the contents of the kitchen shelves. We even sift through the trash bags stacked neatly by the door, though I’m the one who filled them and I’m certain the ticket isn’t there. We just can’t think of anything else to do.
Every now and then, we brush against each other as we move from room to room and I think it again:Teddy McAvoy kissed me.It’s all I can do not to grab his hand, drag him back over to me, stand on my tiptoes, and kiss him again.
But when he tries to look for the ticket under the fridge, a different memory rushes up and I lunge at him, practically shoving him out of the way and offering to do it myself. “I have smaller hands,” I explain, my face burning against the cool of the tiled floor as I feel around beneath it, coming up empty-handed.
Teddy frowns at me as I stand up again. “I’ll check the shower.”
“The shower?” I follow him into the bathroom. “You haven’t taken one.”
“I know, but it’s the last place I can think to look,” he says, yanking back the curtain and stepping into the tub. I can see the panic in his eyes as he stoops to pull the plug out of the drain and I put a hand on his shoulder.
“Teddy,” I say. “I doubt—”
“We’re talking about millions of dollars here,” he says, standing up fast, his face pinched with worry. “What if I just threw it away?”
Something clicks then and I thump my head against the doorframe.
Teddy steps out of the bathtub. “What?”
“I know where it is,” I say with a groan. “It’s the only place we haven’t looked.”
