Page 129 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

“Oh, you do? Why?”

“Because I’m an excellent kisser.” The corner of his mouth turns up.

“That’s true.” I set my water bottle down and crawl toward him, but not in a sexy way because I know the second Itryto be sexy, I’m probably going to end up looking like a newborn giraffe. I move into his orbit, stopping right in front of him, our lips barely an inch apart.

I stare into his eyes, and I hear his breath hitch. The words that wander through my mind cannot be spoken aloud, but it’s taking everything inside me not to tell him exactly what I’m feeling. Even thoughthesefeelings are big and complicated and messy. All I can think is,I love you.

“I have a Friday question,” I say, without moving a muscle.

“Okay,” he breathes.

“Do you see any way that this ends well?”

I feel him stiffen. “I thought we agreed not to say goodbye until we had to.” He brushes his lips gently across mine, and I pull away slightly.

“You know we have to think about it.”

“I don’t want to think about it.” He sits back. “I want to live in this moment, here, with you, on a tarp on this damp stage, eating pizza and drinking water. Can we just leave the future out there for a little while longer?”

I wish I could. I wish I could freeze time, or at least stretch it out, but it’s there, the end, waving a red flag at me, whether I want it to or not.

I kiss him, and his hands sweep up into my hair. I shift, sitting sideways on his lap, and he holds me so close, I feel safe in a way I’ve never felt before.

I love you. The words are back. They scare me, and yet they feel absolutely right. So I choose to take Booker’s advice, to give in to the moment and stop dwelling on what happens tomorrow or next week or next month. I’m leaving, but maybe there’s a solution we haven’t thought of.

Either way, I don’t have to figure it out now.It’s just life.

And yet, thisfeels like a lot more thanjust life.It feels like a precious, tangible treasure I can’t fathom losing.

I’m not good at expressing my feelings like normal people, so instead of blurting out something I’ll regret later, I back away, sitting cross-legged on the tarp across from him. I draw in a breath and start singing “When You Say Nothing At All” by Alison Krauss. I get through a verse and a chorus before Booker silences me with another kiss.

This kiss leads to another kiss, which leads to another kiss. And finally, he pulls away. We’re both breathless, and I’m dizzy, feeling drunk on something that’s so much better than alcohol.

“Oookay... I need a minute,” he says through a smile. “To calm down.”

We both lay back on the tarp, staring up to the rafters overhead.

After a minute, he looks at me. “Your voice is amazing.”

“Thank yo-ou.” I sing the words—badly.

He laughs. “And you’re still so weird.”

I let my head rest on his chest, and he wraps an arm around me, holding my hand with his free one. We lie like that, in silence, right out in the center of the stage, and I think but don’t say,I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. This is where I belong.

I’m so comfortable that I let my eyes flutter closed, and then the world fades to black.

Chapter 36

Words swim around in that foggy space between awake and asleep.

“Are they dead?”

“No, I can see them breathing. Look, their chests are moving.”

“Thank God they’re not naked.”

“I think it’s a crime Booker isn’t naked.”

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