His gaze falls to the floor, a slow smile hooking his lips up on one side. “The universe, huh?”
“Yeah.” An invigorating zip of light shoots down my spine at that lazy, crooked smile. “We give a little energy to the world, and it gives a little something right back. It’s kinda crazy, right? The way everything, everyone, is connected.”
“Everyone.” He drags his eyes back up to mine. “So, what, even you and me?”
My attention wanders to his full mouth, the kind of mouth that adds just the right touch of softness to otherwise hard features, and my stomach flip-flops. “Don’t you feel it?”
He lets out a ragged breath, rubs his palms on his jeans. “I don’t know, Blue. I feel ... something. But I—”
“Hang on. Stay right there, just like that.”
His brow quirks, but he does as I asked, and I lean across the desk to grab my camera. I inch back slightly, pressing my eye to the viewfinder. Then Iclickbefore he knows what’s happening.
Amusement flickers behind his eyes.
“Look,” I say. “It’s printing.”
I go for the photo, but he snatches it first. Then he sits back, holding it out of reach, and when he glances back at me, he’s wearing a smug smirk I’ve never seen.
A smirk that makes my stomach clench. Holy hormones, I like playful Joshuaa lot. The look changes his entire face, revealing a side of him that’s completely disarming, and I almost get why he hides it from the rest of the world. If the girls at school saw him with his walls down, he’d never get a moment alone.
My heart thumps against my rib cage. “That’s mine.”
“I don’t know ...” He scans the photo, his lips twisting thoughtfully. “I’m the one in it. Pretty sure that makes it mine.”
“What do you want with a picture of yourself?”
“I think the better question is, what doyouwant with a picture of me?”
I laugh, glancing away, and go with a half-truth. “It’s for my mom.”
His face falls. “What?”
“Not in a weird way.”
“Sounds a little weird.”
“I promised to send her pictures of everything and everyone I meet out here. That includes you.”
He sets the photo on the desk almost carefully. Something somber darkens his expression. “You’re pretty close? You and your mom?”
“Like sisters.” I hold out my birthstones, leaning forward so he can see them better. “This one’s mine, aquamarine, and this one, the diamond, is hers. March and April babies.”
“So ... that means mine’s a diamond?”
I tilt my head. “Are you an Aries?”
“A what?”
I laugh and drop the necklace. “You’re born in April, right? What day?”
“Twentieth.”
“Yep, you’re an Aries. Just like my mom. I thinktechnically, that means you guys would be compatible, except you might butt heads sometimes.” My smile broadens, and I lift a shoulder. “You both like to be in control.”
He tips his chin toward me. “So what are you?”
“Me? I’m a Pisces.”
