“Let’s do this—you and me, together—and see what happens,” I say.
“Okay.” That’s all she says, but that’s more than enough.
Now that we’re not talking, the roar of the fountain in the lagoon fills my ears. I’m aware of Anna, the building around us, the rippling light above us, and the night beyond.
Everything, every single thing, is absolutely perfect.
EIGHTEEN
Anna
We grab falafel and pita sandwiches from a food truck and eat them as we walk by the marina, where the sail-less masts of the boats point toward the sky like upside-down lollipops. We talk about octopi and joke about the possible places where we might find one hiding along the shore. Like usual for us, we end up kissing, but when Quan touches me, his hands feel like ice on my skin. I don’t want him to die of hypothermia, so I insist we call it a night.
Outside my apartment building, I debate things for a second before asking, “Do you want to come up?”
“Do you want me to?” he asks instead.
“I asked first.”
He laughs as he fiddles with my helmet. It seems to take him a long time to lock it to the back of his bike before he says, “Yeah, I want to.”
“Then come up with me,” I say.
After attaching his own helmet to his bike, he follows me into the building and up three sets of musty old stairs to my apartment. Inside, I step out of my shoes, remove his jacket, and drape it over the back of my armchair, suddenly ill at ease. I know what comes next, but I don’t know how to get us there.
“A-are you thirsty?” I ask.
“No, thanks,” he says.
“Do you want to watch TV?”
His lips quirk in amusement. “It would be different to finally watch something with you in person, but no, I don’t feel like TV right now.”
He advances toward me, and my breath catches. The way he walks, like he’s going somewhere important, appeals to me. Because he’s coming to me.
“I figured out how we need to do this the first time,” he says.
“How?”
He leans down and presses his lips to my temple, my cheek, the soft spot behind my ear. “In the dark.”
I immediately think of his self-consciousness with regard to his surgery and nod. “I’m okay with that.”
We head down the hall to my bedroom, and in the doorway, I automatically fumble around for the light switch until Quan whispers, “Let’s keep the lights off. Unless you changed your mind?”
“No, I just forgot.” I wander through the darkness, eventually bumping my knees against the cushioned side of my mattress.
I turn around to find him, and smack straight into his chest with an ooof.
“Okay?” he asks.
“Yes, but this is a little awkward.”
“A little,” he agrees. “But I kind of like it, too. I get to learn a whole new side of you.”
“The clumsy side of me?”
“I’m so used to seeing you. Now I get to focus on feeling you.” His lips land on my forehead, on an eyebrow, eliciting a laugh from me, on the tip of my nose, my mouth. He sucks on my bottom lip, licks, and then claims my mouth with bold strokes of his tongue as his hands sweep over my body.