Page 74 of Toxic Wishes

“Ya, you know signs, as in zodiac signs, signs from God. Signs from the universe. Signs. He’s a Leo, so it would never work.”

“Why?” He says, turning his attention back on the road, but I can see the creases in his forehead. He’s interested in knowing why.

“Because he’s fire, and I’m water. Think about it. It won’t work. You can’t put them together.”

He shakes his head. “You’re so weird.” he goes silent, but I can tell I piqued his curiosity now, the way he’s concentrated on the road.

“I have no idea what I am.” He says finally.

“You’re an Aquarius.”

“Oh, so you looked me up?” A half-mooned grin spreads across his face.

“No, you said your birthday is in January, and by getting to know you, I’m going to say it’s at the end of January. So, that means you’re an Aquarius. But to be sure of the type of Aquarius you are, I need your actual birth date.”

“The type?” He says through a laugh. And I ignore how sexy the right dimple of his cheek makes him look along with that perfect voice. It’s no wonder he can get any girl he wants despite being an NFL player.

“Ya. Haven’t you met someone with the same zodiac sign as you, but they are like you in some ways, and in others, they aren’t?”

He scrunches his face up in confusion.“ I guess so. I mean, I don’t know. The only birthdays I’m aware of are my son’s, and-.” he trails off. He doesn’t have to say his name for me to know who the other person he’s referring to is. I try to detour the conversation elsewhere so I’m not taken down a spiral of endless questions of Blake, which would lead to endless memories and bottomless drinking, and I don’t want to get drunk tonight. Sure, I’ll have a few drinks since I saved my calories for this event today. I don’t want to get so drunk I can’t remember this conversation the next day. I’m done with those days.

“You don’t know Bodies’ mom’s birthday? Your mom’s or Naomi’s?”

He side-eyes me. “Should I?”

Wow, that's a really jerk response. This is why I would never be with a jock. God, they can be so damn arrogant. Like, get over yourself. Just because you throw a damn ball around doesn’t make you God’s gift to earth. You may be built like a God, but once you stop training like an athlete, I’m sure you’ll get a dad-bod like everyone else. Or at least that’s what I hoped for Colt’s future. The thought of Colt lying on a couch with a beer belly made me smile, mainly because it would be comical. I can’t picture him fat ever. Not as cut and lean as he is now.

“Anyway, there are three types to every sign.”

“Three types?”

“Is there an echo in here?”

He side-eyes me again, but he is full-on smiling now this time.

“As I was saying, there are 12 zodiac signs, but within each sign,” I make a square shape with my hand. “There are types 1, 2, and 3.”

“Wow, that’s too much,” he says.

“No, not really. I find it interesting. I’m going to guess you are an Aquarius two.”

“Why, because they are handsome devils?” I feel his gaze on me as I continue to look out the windshield.

Yes, dangerously good-looking. I should not be in this car with you again.

“No, because you’re uptight.”

“I am not.” he scoffs.

“You totally are,” I say.

A memory of when Blake and I first met in the hospital pops into my head. How I’m talking with Colt right now reminds me of that first day, and my stomach does somersaults. Maybe that’s why I liked being around Colt. He brought back the spirit of Blake, just us talking like this. But just like with any high comes lows.

“What if you look me up, and it says we are compatible? Are you going to believe it to be true?” he says, and it takes everything in me not to face him and see his facial expression right now.

“Nope, we aren’t,” I say without hesitation.

“Geeze, that was a quick response. Why do you say that?”

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