Page 26 of Leveling

Beckett sang a line in her ear.

As he sang she pulled closer, pressing.

They rocked and spun and turned and occasionally he pulled away and spun her down his arm and while she was away, they looked deep into each other’s eyes, mirroring, concentrating, watching, until she returned with a twirl, nestling into his arms again.

Finally, the third song ended.

It was like he woke up. Beckett panicked. What was he doing? He was supposed to be unemotional, distant, detached, and here he was completely utterly totally attached. He wanted to take her to bed, to carry her home, to make her his—

He dropped his arms, stepping back. “So that’s dancing, mainland-style.” He rubbed the palms of his hands all around on top of his head, looking right and left, anywhere but at Luna. Backing away, he said, “It’s got to be getting late. I wonder what time it is?”

“Beckett?”

“Hold on, I’ll check the time. You’ll want to sleep before—”

“Beckett. What are you talking about?”

Beckett said, “I’m just—I want to make sure—”

Luna stepped forward, really, dizzyingly close, and looked up into his face. “What?” asked like another breath.

“I shouldn’t. I’m not supposed to.”

“Yet here you are and here I am.” Luna placed her hands into his, entwining his fingers around.

He said, “I promised you that it was okay, that you were okay.”

“Yes, you did promise.” Luna pulled his hands behind her back, stood on tiptoe, and gently kissed him on the lips.

His hands let go, his arms slipped around, and he half-lifted her, weightless, pressing his lips to her mouth. They kissed long and slow.

Then Luna slid down and gently tugged him toward the wall. “Come see the water, Beckett.”

He followed her to the edge—her knees against the low wall, him standing behind. He wrapped his arms around, hugging her in, holding her back from—

She said, “When you’re on the water at night, and it’s still like this, I can’t tell where the water ends and the universe begins, and isn’t it really all the same thing, anyway? Dust and water flung through space and—”

Beckett had no answer, his lips were focused on the steady thrum of the pulse on the soft edge of her neck, and he couldn’t be bothered with one more second of—he turned her and kissed her harder, his tongue playing between her lips. Then he asked, “Can we step away from the wall now?”

She smiled and walked forward, forcing Beckett backward, returning to the middle of the rooftop.

There they kissed again, this time deep, their lips open, their tongues glancing and playing. Beckett’s hand was in the back of Luna’s hair, the other on the small of her back. Her hands were between his shoulders pulling him down and on and further and in.

Beckett pulled away. “Anna, are you going to spend the night with me?”

She asked, “You mean, again?”

He said, “No, I mean, really?”

Luna smiled, “I knew what you meant. And yes.”

Beckett, fingers in her hair, kissed her lips for their perfect answer. Her hands were on his elbows bringing him closer until Beckett pulled back. “Just a moment. Can you wait right here like this?”

He jogged away and returned hidden behind an armful of bedding, including pillows, blankets, and his great grandmother’s quilt. He dropped the pile on a chair, and in unison Beckett and Luna each took up the opposite edges of a blanket, unfurled it, and laid it flat. Then they placed a blanket on top and then another. Beckett tossed two pillows at one end of the square and Luna dropped the quilt on top. And then...and then.

Suddenly they were awkward.

The first kiss: done. Second kiss: done. An agreement had been struck. A bed, made. Beckett pulled her in for another kiss, yet in their excitement—or tense intensity—neither one knew how to drop from standing to the floor. Luckily, Luna’s stomach growled, audibly. She giggled.

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