here.” Using an icon tool, he marked a spot on the map, then two more. “And these are reasonable possibilities. It’s all theoretical. No guarantee.”
“But this one”—she tapped the screen with her finger—“seems like it could be the other end of our cave. If—and I know it’s only an if—this could be the other side of the same cave. So, we need to find it. To know where we might end up.”
“Huh,” he said, but she couldn’t read the look on his face. Until he broke into a wide grin. “It’s worth a try. I’m going to get my log book.”
Waiting, she wandered through the garage. Everything surrounding his desk was a jumble of a mess, but his drawing surface was clear. He’d tucked all his papers into stacks and slots along the side. His other maps were stored neatly on the shelf.
She pulled out the papers. Studied the maps he’d made. She recognized their neighborhood, each street carefully labeled. Another was all lines and squiggles. A topographical map. But not of anywhere she knew. Not the cave. Or at least not any part she recognized. There were curved areas. A big room at the bottom of the page. Or maybe it was the top. She rotated the page to look at it from a different angle. Her name was printed in neat letters in the bottom corner: RIA. She must be missing something. She’d have to ask him. She set it on the table and moved to survey the collection of toys. She pulled out a purple plastic ring. She’d always loved the Hula-Hoop.
He came through the door carrying his notebook, a few moments after she’d gotten the Hula-Hoop in motion. The key was all in the hips. A gentle rocking, a shimmy from side to side. Too much motion would make the ring go off-kilter and lose its rhythm.
“You don’t mind me using this, do you? I couldn’t resist.”
“It’s not mine,” he said. “In sixth grade you and Maggie did a Hula-Hoop routine to music in the talent show.”
“You remember that?” Her laugh messed up the flow of the hoop. She shifted, got it back.
“You swung them around your necks! I thought . . .” He stopped. Now he looked panicked. A little pale. Maybe even queasy. Still rocking, she followed his gaze to the table. Where she’d set down the map. That from here looked like . . .
She let the Hula-Hoop fall to the cement floor with a clatter.
It wasn’t a cave system. It was a body. The room at the top was the head. Arms to the sides. The waist curving into hips, the elevation of breasts. Cotton had made a topographical map. Of her. She saw it now. It was her body he’d drawn.
She joined him at the table, studying what he’d mapped. It was strange.
But wonderful, too. He’d studied her. Thought about her. All the many lines. The time and care it took.
“Is this how you see me?”
He stood, frozen in place, looking pained.
“Because it looks to me like this,” she said, pointing to the shoulder spot, “is right here.” Facing him, she took his left hand and matched it with her right shoulder. “And this is the curve here.” She followed the line of the map down with her finger, and then moved his right hand down to the spot above her left hip bone. She could feel the heat of his chest through his shirt. She was sure his heart was racing as fast as hers. He must have been holding his breath because he suddenly let out a kind of sigh. It made her insides turn loose and warm.
She started the kiss. But then he kissed her, too. It was both of them. Together. Ria kissing Cotton and Cotton kissing Ria. Not one thing, still two. Each of them moving and shifting and breathing, exploring the other.
She wasn’t sure how he could knock her over and hold her up at the same time, but he did. In his hands, she felt like something amazing.
So what if he was easily amazed. She was too.
Thirty-Three
Ria still wasn’t ready to see Maggie. Or Sean. She’d been purposefully late to school, then dawdled everywhere, hoping to stay invisible. It wasn’t hard to avoid them. They had so little in common now. And yet, she couldn’t relax, wondering if they’d come face-to-face. It wasn’t until she was in the parking lot with Cotton that she finally melted with the relief of being seen. She felt