Chapter 30 #2
Felicity fell silent. He thought she might be asleep, but then she pulled the pen out from wherever that hidden pocket was, like it had been making her uncomfortable.
Something was blazing inside him. He’d never wanted anything more in his life than the girl beside him.
But he was scared. He was so scared of ruining this moment that no matter how much he wanted to pull her up and kiss her, he kept his hands exactly where they were.
The hazy mist must have cleared in the walk back to this old church garden, because Nicky could see stars overhead. Dawn was still hours away, the sky that deep purple.
“Ad astra per aspera,” he said, without thinking.
“That’s the state motto of Kansas, right?” Felicity yawned.
“To the stars through difficulties.”
“It sounds prettier in Latin. The word difficulties ruins it.”
“On that we can agree.”
“At least that’s something.” She tilted her head to see the sky.
He looked down at her. Her wild hair. Last night’s makeup slightly smeared around her eyes.
Freckles barely visible in the starlight.
She was a pre-Raphaelite painting. He’d traveled around the world, and somehow, he’d found the most exquisite work of art digging a mostly dead plant out of a dumpster in Kansas.
“You say lawyer the way I say teacher.” She fingered a button on his shirt. “That was why.”
“I don’t understa—”
“It’s what I say when my mom asks what I’m going to do with my English degree. I say teacher. And it’s a lie. It’s a trap. It’s the wrong thing.”
“What’s the right thing?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet. I’m nineteen though, so I’m okay giving it some more time. I’m not Fanny.”
“You’re not Fanny? Fanny the fern tree?”
“Fig tree. I don’t have to stay in crummy dirt and dim light just because someone stupid put me there.”
“Aha. You know your name means ‘lucky’ … Well, I think Fanny’s about to be much luckier now that she’s got you.”
“Damn straight she’s lucky.” Her smile was warm against his chest. He pulled the blanket tighter around her, risking pulling her an inch closer, his hand rubbing the cashmere sweater over her arm. “You never answered me about the other thing.”
“I know.”
“It smells good here.”
“It’s the star jasmine.” She reached up and plucked a white flower from the bower above them. She inhaled once and smiled, then passed the blossom to him. “Non-native plant but also not classified as invasive, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.”
She rolled over on top of him, bracing her arms on either side of his head.
At first, he was confused, but then he remembered she was still nearsighted and without her contacts.
Her ocean-gray eyes were inches from his.
All it would take was the smallest incline of his chin and his lips would be on her perfect mouth.
“Tell me where you feel at home, Nicky. At ease. Maybe we’ll start there. ”
Now. He felt at ease now. It wasn’t just the jasmine. It was her. The night air smell of her hair. He wanted to breathe her in like she had that flower.
But she deserved a better answer than that. A more real one at least.
“In the kitchen.” He’d never considered this before, but it was the truest answer.
“What kitchen?”
“Any kitchen. I’ve lived all over, but everywhere always had a kitchen.
It was the only thing I could do when we moved someplace new.
I’d make something familiar. Something my mom used to make or my Spanish grandmother.
And then it would smell like home. I’m not great at it though.
I’m good at school. Remembering things. And in my family, I’m supposed—”
“You could learn something new though.”
“I guess I could … couldn’t I?”
“Plants are weird. My aunt says she only knows how to speak in plants.”
“Huh?”
“I told her once that I didn’t know why I didn’t fit with most of my family. She said she has some plants, I don’t remember which ones because I’m tired, but she said they’re all the same plant, but sometimes, you get one weirdo that won’t grow right until it gets into a different type of soil.”
“Are you saying I’m a weirdo?”
“You tell me.” Her head pressed against his chest, the warm, perfect weight of everything she was grounding him.
“Felicity…”
She yawned and held on to him tight. “Also … my name doesn’t mean ‘lucky.’ It means ‘happiness.’”
Several breaths later, she was fast asleep.
A few more breaths, and he was too.
His cell phone was vibrating, and the sun was peeking out in the distance.
He eased Felicity off him. Courtney was calling.
She was probably worried she lost him and that “the scary commander,” as she called his dad, would blame her.
It wasn’t the first time he’d stayed out all night during this visit.
She should be used to it by now. It didn’t matter that she was only a couple of years older than him; she acted like the big sister he’d never had whenever they were together.
It was how she’d tricked him into coming here in the first place.
Nicky brushed his hair out of his face. The sky had turned to a pale violet.
The paper and pen were still on the ground beside Felicity, along with a bent silk flower crown and a few other things that must have come out of her very deep pockets. He tore a corner of the paper off. His hand was unsteady as he wrote, and he hoped he had made it legible enough.
Her eyes fluttered open. Her hand slid into his.
“You should have kissed me, Nicky.” His breath caught as she heaved an audible sigh before settling back into the even rhythm of sleep. He slid the paper beneath her palm.
Be back in one year for Fanny or Fanny’s dearly departed corpse.