“My buddy Lincoln, his dad is friends with an author. He said he’d arrange for you to meet him and pick his brain. Learn all the in’s and out’s of the business to see if you’re interested.”
I stare at him, my thoughts twisting and turning violently. “I don’t know. I mean, that would change everything.”
“Change isn’t always bad.”
Is it not?
It feels like my biggest life changes stemmed from a negative—the single greatest negative in my life—my mom dying.
“You said being a writer was your dream job. Think of the future—five, ten, fifteen years from now—do you want to be working with match or engineering or do you want to be writing books?”
I shake my head. “I don’t really picture the future.”
He glances at me, his strides wider today than they’ve been previously, proof of his rehabilitation. “Nothing?”
I shake my head again. “My life has changed so much in the past four years. I try not to plan too much because I know life is going to keep going with or without my regard.”
He sands his palms together. “In ten years, I see you at a desk, creating a machine that saves all the orangutans, an abandoned coffee you forgot about three hours ago at the corner of your desk sitting next to a picture of Seattle, the city you grew to love and miss every day at your new home in Texas.”
It sounds perfect.
It sounds wrong.
It makes my heart expand and collapse at the same time.
Why do I care so much about what he says?
How can I want him to be both right and wrong?
“After you get done saving the orangutans, you’re going to have your work cut out for you with saving the elephants,” Arlo says. “Did you know they’re afraid of bees?”
“No way. How does something that large feel a bee sting?”
He nods. “I learned this when my parents took us to Disney World. They actually have teams in Africa where they stream the sound of bees to keep elephants away from towns and villages.”
“And it works?”
He nods again. “And the grandma runs the family. Elephants are a matriarchal species, which I’m pretty sure proves they’re a hell of a lot smarter than us humans. They’ve realized women are the brains, and men are the real eye candy.”
I grip the rail to support myself as I laugh, and then his laughter joins mine, that same deep tone that’s perfectly smoothed and polished.
We spend the rest of the day visiting each animal, learning, talking, sharing things about life and dreams of traveling, and he tells me more stories about his family and his friends from New Jersey, more stories about food which leads to me explaining what true Tex-Mex is, and how I miss the heat of Texas summers and sunsets that last for hours instead of minutes.
I’m not paying attention to where we’re going until Arlo parks, and we’re downtown. “Where are we?”
“The Space Needle. You can’t visit Seattle without seeing the iconic Space Needle.”
“Who says I haven’t been already?”
“Have you?”
I shrug. “It’s been a year or ten.”
He laughs. “Out of the car, Liv.”
There’s a surprisingly long line to reach the elevators that take us up to the top of the Space Needle, but neither of us seems to mind the wait as we read the history, laughing at the old outfits pictured and talking about the kind of building we’d create to be shown in a World’s Fair.
We’re one of many as we step inside the elevator. I move to make room for a large family, my arm brushing against Arlo’s. I smell his cologne, the scent of his soap that is now housed in my shower. He had his arm around me earlier, slept in my bed, and yet somehow, standing this close to him has my cheeks growing warm, and my breaths sounding too loud.
The elevator stops at the top, and we remain still as the others pour out, allowing us more room that we don’t move to take.
Arlo’s eyes rove across my face, stopping on my lips.
I suddenly can’t breathe or feel my feet.
Is he going to kiss me?
Does he want to kiss me?
That’s what guys do, right? They stare at your mouth when they want to claim it.
“Ready?” The attendant holds the elevator doors open, her brow lowered with annoyance that we’re not already off. “If you have a fear of heights, I can assure you that you won’t be anywhere near the edge if you stay