Lunar Love (31)

Bennett relaxes. “I hope so. She wrote a lot about how important the Chinese zodiac was to her and how it helped her understand herself as a woman, as a wife, as a mother.”

“Well, I think that’s poetic. You learned about your mom through her own words. In the way that she would’ve wanted you to know her.”

Bennett nods. “What surprised me most was that she used the zodiac to learn more about herself. History informing the present. She wasn’t so strict about compatibility and who belongs with who.” He flashes me his crooked smile, and under the navy sky, it looks more pronounced. It nearly melts my heart. “Honestly, she and my dad were incompatible, but they had the happiest marriage. I always found it fascinating that they were incompatible on paper but still had the best relationship.”

“I see,” I say, looking down at my blanketed lap.

“It’s not like now I know everything,” he says. “But it was a starting point to learning more about who she was. And in a way, who I was. That’s why the article was so upsetting earlier. I’ve felt like a walking identity crisis for most of my life, and it was called out.”

The best I can do is muster up the courage to nod. It’s a weak attempt, but it’s better than nothing.

Bennett looks up at the moon. “You wanted to know where the idea for ZodiaCupid came from. My mother.”

My stomach twists into knots. Now is not the right time to tell him the truth. Exposing myself will have to wait.

“Sorry, I’m being a big bummer right now,” Bennett adds. “I don’t usually share this with people. Kind of a habit I picked up from my dad.”

“No, I’m glad you told me,” I say. All I want to do is make him feel better. What’s happening to me? Instead, I just grip my slushie tighter. “Thank you for sharing such an important part of your life with me. An important part of you.”

Bennett nods and looks down at his hands. “I watched Big shortly after, and well, from then on, I begged my dad to take me to the amusement park every weekend so I could find that fortune-teller machine in real life.”

“Also, Tom Hanks.” I nudge him gently. “You can’t go wrong with any movie that has Tom Hanks in it.”

“He’s the, what is the term people use? G.O.A.T.?” he says with a hint of sarcasm.

“He’s a Goat?” I ask, trying to make him laugh. “When’s his birthday?”

“No, the Greatest of All Time,” he says, grinning.

“Oh, right, of course,” I agree. “He’s such a goat.”

I can sense Bennett watching me intently. Emotions stir inside me that I haven’t felt in a long time. I almost don’t recognize myself. Why do I want to hug him and not strangle him right now?

Ahead of us on the screen, Sandra Bullock runs into town to kiss the man she loves. A chill runs through me at the awareness of my proximity to Bennett.

Bennett adjusts in his seat and says, “Did you know that Thomas Edison was responsible for the first on-screen kiss in a movie?”

His fun fact comes out of nowhere, and I dissolve into laughter. His mood seems to lift.

“It was 1896,” he continues, “during a time when kissing publicly was scandalous. People went wild for it. It’s hard to calculate the percentages of how many chemicals are released when two people kiss, like oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine, but—”

“Hey, Bennett,” I say, still smiling.

“Sorry, you’re trying to watch the movie,” he says, shifting his position.

“No, it’s not that. I know there’s a lot happening with chemicals in the brain when people kiss, but what they’re trying to portray up there is a relationship. Here, give me your hand,” I say.

Bennett skeptically reaches his hand toward me.

At first, I hesitate but then grab his hand in the name of proving a point. “Do you feel that?”

“Do I feel what?” he asks, looking at my hand on top of his. The tips of my fingers graze against his knuckles.

“A sensation running through your body?” Or is it just me? “That’s not numbers and data. It’s a connection between humans. That’s what matters.”

Bennett dips his head. “Right. Connection.” He flips his palm up, and our fingers lock into place.

“When two people find each other and connect…it’s an inexplicable kind of magic,” I say.

It isn’t until Bennett gives my hand a light squeeze that I realize our hands are still touching. I quickly pull my hand away and tuck both between my legs. Bennett draws his hand back and rests it on his knee.

“The only magic I’m used to is the one that happens when numbers properly add up or how data can give you greater insight into making better decisions and products. Through data, we can better understand people,” Bennett explains.

I shake my head. It takes time to really know someone. Compatibility doesn’t just magically happen through computer code. “Not completely.”

I look toward the movie screen, pretending to be particularly interested in the scene. We cast side glances at each other every few seconds.

Bennett grabs the Peanut M&Ms and tilts it toward me in an offering. “Here, you can have the rest,” he says, giving the bag of candy a little shake.

“Are you sure? I don’t have anything to exchange for it,” I joke, “unless you like melted slushie.”