In a Holidaze

Andrew sees the shadow fall over my thoughts; his hand slides back down to my waist.

“What’s wrong?”

It’s also more than just the reality that I had sex with Andrew so quickly—which, frankly, is shocking enough. But in the past several hours, I’ve let myself forget that I’m actually on a wild, cosmic trip, that I might be living on a timer. I’ve been in this exact day and hour before and I don’t know what might propel me backward all over again. Do I feel more firmly rooted here than I did last time, when the branch fell on my head? Maybe? I made it through day three without returning to the plane, but I also didn’t make any new declarations or have any heavy realizations yesterday. I was just . . . happy.

And being happy was the only thing I asked for.

So what happens when I’m not happy? What happens when this vacation is over, and Andrew heads back to Denver, and I return to Berkeley, and I’m devastated to be away from him, and jobless and broke? What if I can’t keep up this trajectory? Will I fail this particular test? Will I find myself back at the beginning of the game, tasked with reliving all these moments again and finding a way to keep the balloon in the air eternally?

“Nothing’s wrong,” I say, and hope I wasn’t quiet too long. “Just processing it all.”

“Oh, shit.” His face falls. “We’re moving too fast.” He runs a hand down his face. “We should have taken it slower last night. It was so good, though, and I was just—”

“It wasn’t only you. It was fast,” I admit, and his admission that it was good makes me hot all over again. “But it wasn’t too fast. I’d wanted to do that with you since I knew what sex was.”

A wicked smile pulls up one half of his mouth.

Sobering, I add, “I mean, it’s only too fast if . . .” I swallow. “If it’s just an over-the-holidays thing.”

He pulls back and looks genuinely hurt. “Is that a serious concern?”

“I don’t actually know, because you’re more private than Theo is about these things. But I’m definitely not like that.”

He toys with the strap of my tank top. “I would never do that with you, Mae. That’s not what this is.”

“This is complicated by a lot of things, but let’s start with the fact that our parents are best friends and we live hundreds of miles apart.” I chew my lip. “Sorry. I don’t mean to get all intense.”

“Are you kidding?” He bends at the knee so we’re eye to eye. “The only way to do this is to be open about it. Even if you feel like we didn’t move too fast last night, we definitely went from zero to sixty. Talk to me.”

I guess there’s no point delaying this conversation. “I know you want to tell everyone about us, but are you sure about that?” I slide my hand under the hem of his T-shirt, seeking warmth. He swallows a groan, and distracts me momentarily with a deep, searching kiss that makes an ache drop from my pounding heart into my navel. “I don’t want everyone to get overly invested before we even know what this is.”

From Andrew’s nod, I know I don’t have to explain myself. I grew up with a prime example of a relationship that didn’t work. Even the simplest of breakups can get messy, and I don’t want anyone here to feel forced to choose sides if this doesn’t work out perfectly right out of the gate.

Resting his lips just at the corner of my mouth, he says, “Then why don’t we just keep following this for a bit before we say anything to anyone? I’m so happy right now I feel hammered. But I’ll try to play it cool.”

The problem is, I don’t know how to do that, either. I’ve essentially handed my heart over to the person who’s had it on reserve for half my life, and I’m terrified that he doesn’t realize what he’s holding.

Footsteps come to a stop just a few feet away from where we’re hiding in the curtains, and Andrew goes still, eyes wide. My lungs turn to concrete.

“Hello, whoever is there,” Andrew says, wincing. “Was just, uh, checking this window lock.” As he reaches past me to rattle the lock, we stare wide-eyed at each other, probably both praying that it’s Kennedy or Zachary and we can pretend to be playing Sardines again.

But then a throat clears, and I have to admit neither of the twins would clear their throat and sound like a grown man.

“I know a good locksmith.”

Benny.

Andrew throws back the curtain, blowing out an enormous breath. “Oh, thank fuck.”

Benny laughs. “Should I even ask? What were you two doing in the curtain?”