gaze so intense it felt like a spotlight, turning me visible in the darkness, heating my skin.
“Yes,” I said again, and let my own coat fall to the floor next to his.
“Del . . .”
“Yes.” I took a step toward him, toeing off my shoes.
His smile faltered as the air between us grew charged. I pulled off my sweater and dropped it where I stood.
Another step, and my flannel shirt joined it. “Yes.”
He sat up fully, but I put out a hand to stop him from standing. “You asked,” I said. “I’m answering.”
His breath hitched. The cold air was a shock on my overheated skin, and I looked down at the line of clothing on the floor, a path running directly to Simon. “Breadcrumbs,” I murmured.
“I knew you’d find me,” he said softly.
“Of course I did. You’re my home.”
I took a final step, and he wrapped his arms around me, drawing me between his knees. We stayed like that, my fingers running through his hair, his head resting against my heart, a perfect, silent moment.
His arms loosened, and his fingers slid up my sides, under my tank top. I was certain the touch left a trail behind, gilt-edged and fine, and he tipped his head back to look at me.
I nodded, too breathless to speak.
He reached back and did the guy thing—the one-handed tugging off of his shirt, a twist and a shrug, the movement fluid and mesmerizing. Wordlessly I placed my hand flat over his chest, his skin so hot it nearly blistered mine. His eyes glinted, like a spark in the darkness, and when he pulled me down next to him, my blood turned to flames.
His mouth followed the paths his hands had traced, slow and deliberate one minute, light and playful the next, and it felt like the world was spinning away from me, a tumble of cravings and impulse. I pressed against him, suddenly aware how much I had to lose and desperate to be as close to him as possible.
He must have sensed it, the moment when the want turned from dizzying to overwhelming, because he drew back, the cool air rushing between us.
“Hey,” he said, skimming his fingers along my shoulder, brushing my hair from my face. “Come back.”
“I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head.
“Fine isn’t enough,” he said. “We don’t need to do this tonight.”
But we did. And I wanted to. Needed to, actually, needed to have this night with him. There wouldn’t be any Echoes of this moment. I could never travel back or capture it again, and I wasn’t going to let it slip from my grasp.
Every person is the result of an entire universe’s worth of choices—moments that coalesce into a life, and a life that unspools in a meandering, unpredictable line. It’s the easiest thing in the world for two people to miss each other, by minutes or miles, which makes the moments when they don’t miss—when strings and paths connect—even more precious.
It shouldn’t happen, two people finding each other, recognizing the strange, unique harmony between them—but every once in a while, it does, because love is a singularity. Like Simon himself.
I traced the muscles in his arms, tried to memorize him like I would a new piece of music—the patterns, the rise and fall, the way each part flowed into the next. I burned this memory into my brain: Simon, eyes closed, breathing ragged, mouth blurry from our kisses.
I leaned in, molding my body against his, and his eyes snapped open. “Del,” he said, voice careful and hoarse. “I told you . . .”
“And I told you yes,” I reminded him.
He paused, then reached for the bag he’d brought with him, fumbling through the pockets until he emerged with a small foil square.
My mouth fell open, but I finally found the words. “Seriously? You’ve been on the run for weeks. When did you have the time—”
He grinned. “The infirmary doesn’t just stock glucose solution and Band-Aids, you know. Figured I should be prepared.”
“You’re like a Boy Scout. An R-rated Boy Scout.” I matched his smile. “I approve.”
“I’m glad,” he said, and pulled me closer than I thought was possible, until he had memorized me, lips and hands and teeth and tongue, gentle and clever and thorough, until my skin felt like starlight, my limbs heavy and soft with want.
“You’re sure?” he asked, hovering over me. I nodded, but he didn’t move, sweet and serious and utterly mine. “Say yes.”
“Yes.”
His mouth curved upward. “Now say please.”
“You first.” I ran