But I don’t say that. Because it feels like too much, too soon.
“Well, you could always be a heart surgeon,” I say, remembering what she told me when we were roasting marshmallows.
“That’s way too much school,” she says.
“True,” I say. “How about something in . . . finance?”
She snorts out a laugh. “No one wants me managing money. That would be a terrible idea.”
“A balloon artist?”
She pretends to ponder that. “I’d rock that.”
“I’m sure you would.”
She looks to the sky, holding the binoculars up to her eyes again.
“Point out some constellations,” she says.
We spend the next while identifying star formations, and I tell her some of the lore behind them, at least the parts I can remember from what Keith taught me.
After a bit, she sets the binoculars down next to her and rolls to her side so she’s facing me.
“This night gets a ten,” she declares.
“Finally,” I say, shooting a fist up in the air in triumph. I roll over to face her. “But the night isn’t even over yet. Shouldn’t you maybe wait until the morning before you decide?”
“I mean right now, like this moment. It’s a ten.”
“So, if you somehow get eaten by a gator in the middle of the night, then that part won’t count?”
“I’ll be dead, so I guess the answer is yes? But also, are there alligators out here at night?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s not a very confident answer,” she says, scooting over toward me on her sleeping bag.
“Are you scared?” I ask, nudging closer to her so we’re nearly face to face now.
“Maybe a little,” she says.
“I’ve got you,” I say, placing a hand on her hip, my thumb rubbing over the smooth fabric of the leggings she’s wearing.
“You’ll save me from an alligator?” she asks, placing a hand on my chest, over my heart, which has picked up its pace from being this close to her.
“I’d definitely try,” I tell her. “But I’d probably just get eaten too.”
She laughs, and it’s bright and beautiful, and with the waves in the background, it’s a perfect combo of my two favorite sounds.
“I’ve been thinking,” she says, her fingers tapping lightly on my chest. “Or really, I was wondering if maybe you could help me go over a part of the script again.”
“What part?” I ask, hoping she’s referring to where we left off at the bookshop.
“I really need help with the part where Callis and Falgon . . . kiss,” she says, her voice almost a whisper.
My mouth goes dry, instantly. “I think I could possibly be swayed to help you with that again.”
She closes the distance, her lips softly touching mine. I close my eyes, the hand at her hip slowly moving up to the curve of her waist, where it rests. I feel her hand, the one that was on my chest, move up to my shoulder. The pressure of her lips on mine intensifies, and I want to personally thank whoever wrote the book that inspired the movie for giving us an excuse, as flimsy as it is, to do this right now. To kiss under the stars, the sound of the ocean waves in the background.
“Okay, yeah,” she says while I’m trailing kisses along her cheek and down to her jaw. “This night is definitely a ten.”
I pull back and look at her, and we smile at each other.
Her smile falls as she reaches up and runs a hand through my hair. “Can I keep you, when the summer’s over?”
“Keep me?” I ask.
“I’m saying I don’t want this to be over at the end of the summer, Briggs Huckleberry Dalton.”
“Nice try.”
“Thwarted again,” she says, and I chuckle.
“How do you expect to keep me?” I ask, very interested in her answer.
“I don’t know,” she says. “It feels like there’s almost too much to navigate to make it work. But . . . I’d like to try if you would.”
I lean in and kiss her lips. It’s a quick kiss, but it’s my answer. I would like to try this with Presley. I have no idea what that will look like, what it all even means. But right now, with her snuggling up to me, and my heart fully taking a dive over that edge, I don’t need all the answers. Right now, I just need her.
