"May I? I've a secret too. And he's way hotter than the surgeon who did your nose job. Oh, and when I met my husband? I lied, because there was someone who occupied all my thoughts. Even though I promised myself he wouldn't. To my defense, it's hard not to fall for a man who carries you in one arm, your shoes in the other, all across the city to Sea Cliff..."
?
It was the same night, actually early morning by then.
I had his massive hand under my butt for about fortyminutes, and it never even trembled, like I was weightless to him.
Then, out of nowhere, he stopped and said, "I'll carry you to your doorstep. Which house is yours?"
I slid down and glanced at the unfamiliar row of houses. "But I don't live here."
"You don't?" He frowned, scanning the street like it might rearrange itself. "I swear you said... Shit. I don't live here either."
"What?" I stared at him. Then started laughing, still a little buzzed, but mostly high on him, the dancing and silly talk we'd carried all night.
Watching me, he broke into laughter too. We weren't even that funny. The usual.
We decided to walk some more, going down the beach, pulled toward the red rust of Golden Gate Bridge paling with dawn.
I always loved coming to this place in the morning, but from then on it would gain another meaning forever.
"Was there anything else you wanted to be as a kid besides writer?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"A scientist." I pointed at the sky. "Of space. I believe in the stars. I think they have a pull on us, you know?"
"Yeah. Experienced it firsthand," he said, glancing at me somewhat suggestively.
I blinked away because the obvious follow-updid he mean me? Did he mean his own life? Did he mean the universe?was probably too much to ask aloud.
"They say we're made out of them," I said instead. "I was always obsessed with that.What's underneath."
He nodded thoughtfully. "I get that. First time I cut into someone in med school, I thought the same thing."
I scrunched my face, shoving his shoulder. "That's gross, and so not romantic."
I bolted barefoot down the hill, feeling the cold sand under my feet, and the wind ripping my hair. I wanted to escape him as much as I wanted him to chase me.
He did. Caught me almost instantly—long legs, unfair reflexes. His hand brushed the small of my back to slow me down and his eyes burned the way they always did when he teased.
"Didn't realize you wanted romance with me."
I stopped laughing too fast and went defensive, naturally. Waved at our outfits, at the deserted stretch of beach, and said, "I feel like we're on some cosmic mission."
His eyes ran over my tight outfit. "Mm. What mission?"
"Saving the world?" I offered, honestly not thinking much of it.
He tilted his head, licking his lips. "That your subtle way of saying you want to repopulate it with me?"
I huffed a shy laugh and took a step back.
He followed.
"You didn't answer my question."
One more step.
"Do you want romance with me?"
