Page 41 of Love Letters from a Libra
“You are cracking me up,” I accused, smiling.
“Maybe a little.”
Our bodies gradually moved closer, our hands resting inches apart on the blanket between us.
“My aunt used to explain gravity to me. Not the technical explanation; she saved that for Amir, who was actuallyinterested in physics. For me, she made it simpler,” he explained.
I turned my head to watch him as he spoke, struck by how his expression changed. The usual controlled precision in his features softened when he mentioned his aunt, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.
“She says love is like gravity. You don’t see it, but it holds everything in place. Keeps planets in orbit, keeps your feet on the ground. After our mom died, I needed that. Something invisible but reliable, something that wouldn’t disappear.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
The way he said it was matter-of-fact, with a slight huskiness in his voice. Told me more than any detailed confession could. That was the root of him. I realized the source of both his steadiness and his fear of connection, losing his mother, being raised by his aunt, and learning early that love could be both permanent and precautionary.
“She sounds amazing,” I replied.
“She is. She’ll like you. Probably ask you a million questions about astrology though.” Jules turned to me fully, his locs falling across the blanket.
“A woman after my own heart. Did she read your charts growing up?” I smiled, imagining the woman who shaped the man beside me.
“Not really, but I did use to see the astrology books around the house, so I know she looked at them.”
I laughed, delighted by the glimpse into his childhood.
“She was the only one who understood why I needed everything in perfect order. After Mom died, my room became the one place I could control completely.”
The casual revelation hit me differently than his previous careful explanations. I found myself voicing a thought that hadbeen forming all evening. “You know what scares me? That this doesn’t scare me.”
Jules turned his head to face me.
“I mean, usually, by now, I’d be analyzing everything, looking for signs, waiting for that aha moment that confirmed we were meant to be, or destined to crash. But tonight, this feels ordinary in the best possible way.”
The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “Good. I’d rather be something you step into instead of fall against.”
The distinction resonated with unexpected clarity. Falling happened to you. Stepping was a deliberate choice, a measure of action rather than a surrender.
“That might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me, and not a single star reference. I’m impressed,” I admitted.
“Oh, I’m saving those for later. I can’t use all my cosmic material in one night.” Jules’s voice carried playfulness.
His fingers were laced with mine, and my hand fit perfectly in his.
“Your aunt was right about gravity. About love. About the invisible things that hold everything together.”
Jules’s face tilted toward mine, and there was no surprise, no hesitation. Just a natural conclusion to a conversation our bodies had been having all night. His lips met mine, feeling like recognition rather than a discovery of “there you are” instead of “who are you.”
His hand released mine to cup my cheek, then brushed my cheekbone. He kissed me deeply, gradually building heat between us like a slow sunrise rather than a sudden flare. When we finally separated, his forehead rested against mine.
“I’ve been wanting to kiss your sexy ass all night,” he admitted in a husky voice.
“I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me all night.” I smiled.
His smile was genuine. “Some moments deserve their own timing.”
Around us, the event was winding down. Volunteers collected equipment, and distant voices gave out reminders about the next gathering. The bubble of intimacy we created had burst, but shifts had occurred, acknowledging the world beyond our blanket.
Jules sat up slowly. “We should probably pack before they turn the park lights back on.”
I nodded, reluctant to break the connection but aware of the practical necessity. We moved with a purpose. He folded the blankets, I gathered the thermoses, and the remaining snacks. The telescope was carefully placed into its case. We worked together, passing items back and forth to each other. Jules lifted the telescope case and put it on his shoulder. I gathered the folded blankets.
