“Entangledled you here,” Jack says with a soft expression. “To me.”
It takes my breath away, the way he phrases this. It’s like our minds are following a similar thread.
He clears his throat. “But I think this is the start for you. I’m excited to be around to witness it.”
We continue to stroll, not feeling the need to fill the air with words. We can just be.
The more time I spend with Jack, the more I feel myself pulledtoward him. A tug on my heartstrings in his direction. What is Jack to me? What are we to each other? Trying to understand the signs feels like stargazing on a cloudy night.
Beyond the nose of a turquoise rocket called Delta II, storm clouds that I forget the official name for take on a plum hue. In the distance, there’s a muffled roll of thunder. Not wanting our night to get cut short, I will the storm to blow in a different direction.
Our pinkies touch as we drift toward each other walking along the path, the point of contact sending chills up my arm. The proximity to each other puts every nerve in my body on high alert in both a good and an alarming way. In the back of my mind, I can hear Mom’s advice.
Jack slows to read the sign in front of one of the rockets. “These remind me of the intricate experiments I used to do as a kid. But these are way cooler than a paper towel roll and baking soda.”
I lean closer to get a better look at his face. “How intricate are we talking? Erupting volcano? Tornado in a water bottle?”
“Please. My experiments were next level. My most intense experiment was what I called The Exploding Star,” he says proudly. “It involved balloons, baking soda, ice cubes, vinegar, and too much glitter. It’s how I got this.” He sticks his lip out. “An experiment gone awry.”
I tilt my head. “It’s your Supernova Scar. You wouldn’t be you without it.”
Jack smiles. “Supernova Scar. I like that. I was self-conscious about it for a lot of my life.”
I tentatively reach out and brush my thumb over his bottom lip. He lets me. “It reminds me of a crescent moon. But it also looks like a parenthesis, as though everything you say is just extra information.”
Our bodies gravitate closer together. We’re completely lost in the moment until Jack gasps, his gaze directed behind me.
“It must be Kenneth,” he says, watching a man round the corner back toward the Rocket Garden. “He mentioned something about being in town at the same time as us.” We’re too far away to confirm that it’s him, even when the person turns and calls out to us. It almost sounds like he’s saying Jack’s name. Jack pulls me around to the back of the rocket and not a split-second later he whispers, “Run.”
I’m frozen in place. “Wait, what? You said—”
Jack wraps his arm around my waist and gives me the forward momentum I need to move my feet. We sprint behind the base of another rocket and out of view.
“Think he saw us?” Jack pants.
“Maybe. He was too far away to know for sure,” I shout-whisper. “Could’ve been a guard? You did confirm we could be in here, right?”
Jack makes a face. “Well, no. We’re not supposed to be here. We’re breaking every rule there is. If they catch us, deny everything.”
Adrenaline pumps through my veins. Jack reaches for my hand, gripping his fingers around mine.
“When I count to three, we head to that space capsule, okay?” Jack says, nodding toward a black horizontal pod with steps leading up into it.
I agree and grip his hand tighter.
“Three!”
We run for our lives toward the capsule, trying not to make too much noise clambering up the metal stairs.
We squeeze inside the pod, and I practically fall into Jack’s lap. We’re holding our breath, careful not to let our panting give us away.
“That was close,” Jack whispers, his chest rising and falling.
“I can’t believe you,” I say quietly, still unsure who might be around. I push Jack gently against his shoulder.
Jack catches my hand in his, holding it against him. Our faces are a foot apart, given that we’re crammed into a space capsule the size of a bathtub. I can practically hear our pounding hearts echoing off the walls surrounding us.
My mind swirls with colors from moments of our time together. A red scarf in the print shop. Cream lanterns. The orange hue of Jack’s jazz show. Golden table dumplings. Bright yellow cabs. The blinking green neon light. White bunny suits. Fuchsia sunsets. Jack’s brown eyes. And now, the charcoal interior of this capsule. It’s a rainbow palette in shades of Jack, and it’s all I want to paint with.
