Until We Meet Again(28)

“You’d better believe I am. I take my treats very seriously.”

“I can respect that.”

I give him a sidelong glance. In the soft glow of firelight,

he looks as warm and gorgeous as ever. It seems so strange to

be sitting here with him—a guy from 1925. I shouldn’t think

about it. That’s what we agreed on yesterday. But it’s not the

sort of fact that slips from your mind.

“Okay,” I say, bringing the perfectly roasted Starburst away

from the red embers. “It’s ready.” I present the gooey deliciousness to Lawrence with both hands, formal Asian style. “Be careful. It’s hot.”

With a skeptical eyebrow raised, Lawrence examines the

admittedly strange-looking candy creation. Then he pops it

in his mouth. He winces at the heat and then chews thoughtfully. I watch him, biting a fingernail with anticipation. He chews with unnecessary care. Then swallows.

“Well?” I ask.

“You shouldn’t have let me taste that,” he says. “Now I’m

more determined than ever to travel to your time.”

I laugh. “Starburst pushed you over the edge, huh?”

He smiles wryly. “You’re not a bad motivator yourself.”

And like that, the magic of the Starburst has made the firstdate awkwardness disappear. The rest of the night only gets better. We laugh, talk, gorge on candy, and then, when the

fire is low and the stars blaze bright, we wrap in blankets and

search out constellations above us. Everything is so perfect

that I don’t want to ever leave.

But I know that can’t be. Real life--boring, frustrating

2015 is waiting just beyond those bushes. As Lawrence and

I fold up the blankets and chairs, despair cuts into me like

a blade. I try my best to keep things light, to squeeze out

the last bits of pleasure from this first and final date of ours.

Lawrence lingers as well. Does he not want the night to end

either?

“Well,” he says, looking around the beach. “I guess that’s

that.”

“Yeah.” I let out a breath that sounds a lot like a sigh. “I had

a good time.”

“I did too. Those Starbrights were ginger peachy.”

I chuckle. “Sure were.”

“Of course, they have nothing on my Aunt Eloise’s lemon

meringue pie.” He digs the tip of his shoe into the sand. “You

ought to come back tomorrow so I can bring you a piece. One

treat for another. Seems only fair.”

“Oh, you’re sneaky, Lawrence.”

“Nothing sneaky about it. I ought to return the favor,

that’s all.”

I should refuse. I know this. I’m being careless with my heart.

This is a guy I can never really date. Not even close. And yet…

“One more day. That’s it.”

Lawrence beams. “Swell. Meet me here for lunch? I’ll bring

us out a picnic.”

“Sounds ginger peachy.”





Chapter 1o





Cassandra


unt Eloise’s lemon meringue pie lives up to the hype.

A



At the picnic with Lawrence, we pick up right where

we’d left off the night before. We’re so absorbed in conversation

that a sudden clap of thunder makes us both look up at the

sky with a start. A blanket of rain-laden clouds hang above us.

Droplets turn to sheets of cold wetness in a matter of seconds.

Lawrence and I jump to our feet.

“Where did this come from?” I ask, holding my hands over my head as a weak shield.

“Snuck up on us,” he says. “If you weren’t so darn interesting,

I might have seen its approach.”

The compliment makes my heart swell. I want to keep

talking, but the rain pours harder. Lawrence isn’t running

inside either. Our eyes meet. It’s as if neither of us wants to

be the one to leave. I wipe the rain from my face, though it

doesn’t help.

“Well,” I say, “I guess we’d better…”

Lawrence sets his hand to my arm. “Wait.”

His touch sends a ripple of energy down my arm. He bends

down and collects our plates and forks. Then he lifts the blue

wool blanket, gives it a firm shake to loosen the sand, and

sweeps it over the tops of the bushes.

“I’m not ready to go in yet,” he says, ducking beneath his

makeshift tent with a grin.

I slip under the blanket and join him. “Not bad,” I say, examining our little shelter. “Well done, Boy Scout Lawrence.”

“It won’t keep us very dry, but it ought to help. It’s a warm

rain anyway.”

“And now that you’ve said that, we’ll both catch pneumonia

and die.”

Lawrence laughs. “I’m fairly certain that won’t happen. But

then, I’m headed into law, not medicine. Maybe they’re writing

our death certificates as we speak.”