Page 86 of The Lovers
you are gorgeous but I know what you look like
I want to see what you + Julia looks like
“Hey,” Julia says, coming up from behind me and nudging the palm of my hand with the tip of her finger. I lock my phone and set it on the table beside my cards before spinning around to grip Julia by the waist. Her face is close enough to kiss but she doesn’t lean in, so I don’t either.
“You okay?” I ask, when it takes her a second to meet my eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, just tired,” she says. “Ready to get back to LA.” Her lips quirk into a small smile when I press my forehead to hers.
“Same,” I say. “But only because I want to get this thing out on the open road and see what it can do.” I press against her, letting our curves meld and mold together so she gets my meaning. She fits her lips with mine, and when she pulls back I see the faintest hint of tears forming in her eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say to reassure her. “We’re having a date at a place with fabric napkins.”
She looks me in the eyes. “Kit, will you dance with me?”
The words are weighted, hefty with meaning, tinged with hope. She wants to believe me when I say I want this, and I want it outthere, and I want to be out; but also she still needs more proof. It doesn’t hurt as much as I expect it to, to know she doesn’t quite trust me. It lights a fire in the pit of my stomach, making me want to take action.
“Yes,” I say. “I’d love to.”
She runs her hand down my arm until she reaches mine. Her grip is sure and gentle. I let her lead me to the dance floor they’ve erected in the center of the space. The stars overhead and the glow of a waning full moon, serene in the indigo ink expanse of the night sky, set the scene. She twirls me out until her grip almost releases. Our eyes lock over the parquet floor. I feel attention shifting to us, interest drifting, but Julia is the only one I see.
She twirls me in, her left hand pressed to my lower back, her right twining our fingers and curving our arms, just as Taylor Swift’s “This Love” begins to play over the sound system.
The tinny, dreamy melody. The winsome, willowy vocals.
The words catch in my ears, making this moment feel as fated as every other that led us back to each other. This song came outthe same year we fell apart. It played on the radio and was all over playlists, at parties, for months. A taunt of the love we lost that I couldn’t believe would ever come back to life. It’s about that kind of soul-aching connection that can sometimes arrive when we aren’t ready for it and then the only thing for us to do is let it go.
I tighten my hold on her waist. My chest is tight, my breath catches as I remember her absence from my arms, in my life. It stung like a scorpion and throbbed like an injury deep inside my bones.
And then here she was again, a force I couldn’t ignore. Breaking down my walls, waking up all my senses. This love is alive because finally I am ready to let it thrive.
We kiss as the chorus rushes to a crescendo. Tongues tangle, her breath and mine becomingours; her body softens against me and my closed eyes fill with tears. When I open them, the tears rolling down my cheek, she kisses once, twice, both cheeks.
“I don’t want to struggle through the night with someone new,” I say.
“I don’t want to ever watch you leave again,” she replies, her lips wobbling with tears she’s holding back.
She is the one I need. No more running.
“You won’t,” I whisper against her cheek. She buries her face in my hair, tightening her grip around my waist. “This love is real.”
When she looks at me again, her cheeks are wet with tears.
But she’s smiling.
We sway together until the song drifts to the end and the mood on the dance floor shifts to something more upbeat. She draws back, laughing when I shimmy and twirl, but we don’t stick around for more.
“I need to finish up my set,” I say, pointing to the tarot table.
“I’m thinking of getting Zoe to cover for me for the rest of the night—once you’re done?” she asks, sheepish, her cheeks flushed. I press a kiss to the constellation of freckles on her neck.
“I sayhell yes,” I reply, kissing her one more time before letting her go. I watch her walk away to find Zoe.
I keep wanting to pinch myself to convince myself that this is real. Julia and I really found our way back to each other. The prophecy that we were Twin Flames destined to break apart, destined to wind up together, was true. It almost makes me want to go back to Old Pasadena and find Madame Moira just to say,Hey, remember us? We’re the two twelve-year-olds you informed were meant for each other and, plot twist, you were right.
When I reach my tarot table, I see the ghost of a notification darkening on my screen. I pick it up, absently swiping when I see it’s a few back-to-back texts from Nina. She’s probably berating me for that pic again.
But when my eyes focus on the texts, that is so not what it is.
