Again, But Better(80)
I snort. “I sat there like some flabbergasted idiot. Like, what the hell is Pilot doing here and how does he know Matt? But then Matt introduced us, and his name was Rob. I swear to god, Pies, he looked just like you.”
I shake my head and focus on the Pantheon again. “The four of us tried to talk while we had a drink, but it was a loud bar and the conversation wasn’t going anywhere. And he kept looking at me, and it was driving my brain insane. I could not compute that it wasn’t you.
“My friend and I decided to go dance, and the guys came with us … and eventually this guy and I ended up dancing together.”
I take a beat, dropping my head to stare at the cobblestones. “And then he kissed me, and we were making out on the dance floor, and my brain was in emotional overload. Like: This guy I’ve liked for ages, is making out with me, and we’re dancing, and it’s freaking great.
“It was this whole weird, fake rush, and then we got off the dance floor and … he wasn’t you.”
New breath. “If it were you, afterward we would have laughed and talked about random shit. But when we walked back to Matt’s place, this guy kept talking over me and my friend, and making a point to only talk to Matt. And then he barely said goodbye before disappearing back into his apartment, and we never spoke again.
“And that high I was riding, that trick my brain was trying to pull, just crashed. ’Cause study abroad was over. You hadn’t been responding to any of our silly group messages over the summer, and … I … I went abroad to make bold decisions and be brave and do things I was always scared to do, but in the end, I didn’t even tell you how I felt. And it hit me as the high crashed, that this fake version of you was probably the closest I was ever going to get.
“I don’t typically tell people I like them. I actually have a track record of complete and total secrecy.” I huff a sad chuckle. “So that whole café ordeal was kind of a big thing for me.”
My eyes are now trained on a spot near Pilot’s feet. I think I’ve ceased being Shane and become pure embarrassment. I shouldn’t have shared that. Instant regret.
I slowly raise my head to face his reaction. His mouth is slightly agape. His eyes are round and conflicted, a dark forest green in the night. I swallow, unsure of what to say or do.
Babble into another subject, Shane. I open my mouth. I can’t think clearly with him looking at me like that. “Um, well, anywa—” I’m cut off as his lips catch mine. Startled chills run up my calves.
The kiss is slow and careful. After a second, I kiss him back. My lips part. Head tilts. His hand glides over my waist. My skin … burns? In a good-fire way. I didn’t know there was a good way to be on fire.
I thought people were making shit up when they described kisses like this. This is some Eiffel-Tower-at-6:00-p.m. shit. I’m glittery fire. And I like it. I break away and scoot back. Swallow. Pilot looks like he’s been hit over the head with a rock.
My heart’s playing hopscotch. “What was that?” I breathe.
“I … I didn’t like that story with doppelg?nger jerk version of me.”
It takes a few seconds to spit it out, but I do. “Pilot, you’re with Amy, in our time and in this one.”
His breathing picks up. “I am with Amy.” He drops his head in his hands. “Shit. Shit.” He gets up and starts pacing back and forth. I watch him for a minute before I remember Melvin.
Did that count as cheating on Melvin? In 2011, we haven’t even met yet. Maybe I should send a preemptive breakup message? I could mail it to his parents’ house.
Pilot’s been pacing for four minutes when I decide to stand. It’s gotta be almost 4:00 a.m.
“We should go back,” I suggest.
He looks up with a pained expression and nods. We walk back in silence. My entire being feels alight and aware, awake. I keep looking over at Pilot, but he’s lost in thought.
The sun’s rising when we slip silently into our respective beds (Pilot grabbed the key from Babe earlier). My brain has that kiss on a loop. It takes a long time to fall asleep.
8. Where Do We Go From Here?
Someone’s shaking my shoulder. I shoot upright.
Babe leaps away from my bed with a gasp and a hand to her heart. I watch as her dark hair resettles around her face. “Jiminy Cricket, you scared me!”
I squint, taking stock of the room. Sahra’s laughing as she runs a brush through her hair in front of the mirror. Rome. Pilot and I kissed last night. He’s not in his bed.
A yawn muffles my response. “You scared me.”
“Did you forget to set your alarm?” Babe asks.
“I must have. Where’s Pilot?”
“Shower,” Sahra answers. “We planned to leave in fifteen minutes.”
I scramble out of bed.
* * *
Babe hangs back with me as we walk to the Colosseum. Today, she’s dressed in a bright red peacoat (Babe owns four different-colored peacoats) with a sash at the waist and matching red lipstick. I feel like the living dead, and next to her, I must look like it. She sidles closer and loops her arm through mine. “What happened last night?”
“Nothing, don’t worry … I couldn’t sleep, and we walked around.”