“Your face!” I say, and I pat him twice on the cheek. “See? We were careful. So much care.” I hiccup.
Pax arches an eyebrow at Kiyoko, who shrugs. I dig the blueprints out of my skivvies, stumbling and hopping and spinning. “Ah! Oh! There—ta-da!” I toss the blueprints on a table and bow deeply, and my head spins when I stand.
Pax grins, and whew, lawdy, that grin. Salty and sweet. “Let’s go for a walk, Stella.” Kiyoko, William, and Nirav crowd around the blueprints, and Pax coaxes me out the front door.
“Coaxes,” I mumble, thinking what a glorious word that is.
“Pardon?” He tilts his head, and my tongue betrays me:
“Oh my God, you’re adorable.”
Pax suppresses a grin. I shake my head because I can’t say that.
“No,” I say. “I take that back.”
“I’m not adorable?”
“Stop.” But I’m laughing, so Pax just bites his pouty pink lip and extends his elbow. I hesitate—oleander—but I link my hand into its crook.
We walk for several blocks under lit streetlamps. We’requiet, but I steal glances sidewise at him. Pax walks with confidence, borderline cockiness, his sharp jawline like a rudder navigating him through the world.
He’s clean and his shirt is pressed. “How many dress shirts do you own?”
“You notice my shirts?”
My cheeks flush. “I don’t—I mean. I notice they’re different. Day to day.”
“I suppose that’s the answer, then. I have enough to make people take notice.”
“You need to be noticed.”
Pax chuckles, but it’s got a sad undertone. “Ah, you know my secrets, Stella Bodhan.”
We wander toward Central Park. Central Park is the one place in New York where people are not scurrying to go somewhere else. We stroll past the gates of the Menagerie Zoological Gardens, locked at this evening hour.
“The animals are asleep,” Pax whispers. “Shhhhh.” He’s trying for adorable. I narrow my eyes at him, my eyesight still a bit off-kilter.
“I enjoyed our time together yesterday,” Pax says. He’s looking ahead, up the walking path, as he says it. But then he stops, looks at me.Inme. My lower belly clenches.
He means our time in that small train vestibule, does he not?
“Me too.”
The scent of vanilla is sharp and sudden.Oleander. Darkness stirs nearby, making my ears ring. Dizzy. I need a moment of support. I hook my fingers around Pax’s suspenders. I tilt myhead up and his face is angled toward mine, angled perfectly for… I stand on tiptoes…
Kids squeal on the walking path behind us, and we part quickly. Two boys run past, tossing a doll to and fro, while a third kid, a young girl, shouts, “Give itbaaack!”
Pax beams, but his face immediately shifts, watching the siblings. “Me and my brother used to tease Julia like that.”
“You have a brother?” The moment I ask, Spirit jolts me with that annoying shock that meansPay attention, Stella. Pax shrugs.
What just happened? I shake my head. It feels loose.
It’s early May, and the park is bursting with blooms. My drunken haze settles into a humid, perfume-laden haze. Irises and tulips and dandelions—so many flowers, my heart sings. The park smells powdery, earthy, even in this thick night sky. I find myself trailing my fingertips across their delicate faces.
“They remind me of rows of watercolors,” Pax says, lifting his chin at the blooms. “But prettier. Brighter.”
“I think they look like candy.”
