Page 32 of To Catch a Firefly

“Mhm.”

Another pause. “Can you hear that I’m naked, too?”

I nearly trip over my own feet, body flushing hot.

“Don’t judge,” Lucky says with a chuckle, as if him telling me about his nudity is no big deal. And, I guess to Lucky, it isn’t. “The sheets are as soft as silk. This place must have cost the magazine a pretty penny.”

I make a sound of acknowledgement, but my mind is stuck on the image of Lucky spread out naked on silky smooth sheets. My heart picks up speed, my body heats, andthere. There it is, thatintangible, magnetic force pulling me toward someone I can’t even physically see.

I squeeze my eyes tight, hoping it will help white out my thoughts. Lucky is talking about the Mediterranean Sea now and the marketplace he and Dani visited earlier.

“But since neither of us speaks Darija,” he’s saying, “or Arabic, for that matter, we had to rely on our guide to haggle prices. I’m pretty sure Dani paid way more than necessary for a gold necklace for his sister, but honestly, he can afford it. Hey, did you get that package I sent last week?”

I nod against the phone, at my truck now. Instead of getting into the cab, I lower the tailgate and hike myself up into the bed, sitting against the hot metal near the wheel well. “Yeah,” I tell him. “The…chocolate. Your mom liked that.”

He chuckles softly. “I’m not surprised. And you? Which was your favorite?”

Lucky sends little care packages sometimes when he’s off on his adventures. It’s nice, feeling like I’m getting a small taste of whatever part of the world he’s in. It makes me feel close to him, even when he’s so far away.

“Liked the nuts,” I admit. They were roasted cashews with a hint of star anise. I’d never had any like them before.

Lucky snickers, and it takes me a moment to realize why.

“Fuck off,” I tell him slowly but firmly.

He laughs harder. “Sorry.”He’s not.

“Twelve,” I tell him. He understands.

“We’re all kids at heart,” he says, rustling again in his silk-like sheets. I have the distinct thought thatno, we’re certainly not kids anymore, but I don’t say it. I know what he means.

We hold onto the memories from our past, don’t we? We cling to the pieces that made the whole of us, good or bad. Because if we don’t…if we don’t keep them close…we might lose that part of who we are.

“Pictures?” I ask.

“Ah, right,” Lucky says, sighing long and low. I can imagine him lying in bed, hair spread across his pillow. I canhearthe smile on his lips, and when he speaks again, there’s also wonder. “Erg Chebbi.”

I make a curious sound.

“It was beautiful, El,” he practically whispers. “A sea of golden sand. The dunes were formed over time by the wind, and they’re big. Sweeping. It was hot, too.” He chuckles. “Really damn hot, but worth it. When the sun was at its peak, it was like…like the whole world was bathed in copper. Like the sun and the sand were one.”

I open my eyes, not having realized I’d closed them. It’s easy to picture Lucky there, in the desert. I bet his hair was as golden as the sands.

“We rode on camels,” he adds, laughing a little. “I could maybe go without that experience again.”

I snort, and Lucky goes on to tell me about how sore his ass got and how camels might be the worst-smelling animal he’s ever encountered. It feels so normal andgood, and even though I forget to share about Gabby and how I’m nervous for my very first official date, it’s probably for the best.

How would I tell him I’m scared I might like her? How would I explain my heart doesn’t know how to beat for anyone but him?

It’s near dinnertime when Lucky trails off, his words apparently exhausted for today. “I should go,” he says, voice soft.

Yeah.

“Talk soon?” he asks.

I hum.As soon as you’re able.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Night, El.”

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