Page 68 of The Sun and the Moon
“Do you think they went on ahead?” This is Moira.
We pull apart, scrambling up from the bed.
As quietly as possible.
“They wouldn’t forget Chicken,” Dad says with confidence.
“Fuck,” I almost whisper. “Ididforget Chicken.” Cadence shakes with a chuckle. I cover my boobs with the cups of my bra, flicking my eyes up to Cadence’s. She’s wearing this deeply forlorn expression. “It won’t be your last chance with them,” I snort.
She blushes. Her pants are buttoned, and she drops to the bed to shove her shoes back on. “Can women get blue balls?” she asks.
I whip my sweater over my head, biting back a cackle.
“Coming!” I call to them. I quickly check myself in the mirror. “Anticipation makes everything better.” She looks up, and our eyes meet in the mirror. Want zips like an electric current between us.
This thing happening with her is something.
Special.
Wild.
Real.
I force my breathing to neutral, and she nods, letting me know she’s ready for me to open the door. I can’t get too in my head about this, because if I do, I will definitely stop us from ever figuring out why the Universe—or whatever force exists beyond our will, if any—has pushed us onto each other’s paths. And if this is what it feels like for fate to work her magic, then I don’t mind so much if she does.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cadence
We’ve been stuck side by side with my mother and Rick watching the opening ceremony of the festival, but in my head I’m still back in that hotel room with Sydney. My mind flits over images of her as I stand, the back of my hand pressed against hers in the crowd.
Her tan skin like silky cream, soft and supple in my hands.
Her mouth, pliant and plump, her tongue hot as it lapped mine.
The way her voice tipped over into a command. The force of her hands gripping my hair.
I’ve never toyed with the idea of someone being made for me. Another human put here who will embody my desires and needs. I can’t say with any amount of certainty whether she is that for me. But for a second my mind toys with the hope. Bats it around like a cat with a toy on a string.
The Danish Maid is crowned, and the festivities officially begin with the sound of triumphant cheers. The crew gathered around us is made up mostly of Moira and Rick’s invites—Pam and Greg, Adria, Lola and Hawthorne. I don’t see Kit and Julia,but I expect they’re somewhere in the crowd. I secretly hope we don’t cross paths again while Moira is around. I’d hate for her to get the opportunity to gloat over her successful pairing.
Still, I’m glad I met Kit when I did.
The Ten of Cups is a card I never wanted to see again. The weight of my mother’s interpretation of it from my soulmate prediction felt impossible to carry, so it was shackled to me, and I was left dragging it behind me like a ball and chain.
Just because she predicted it doesn’t mean she holds your fate in her hands, Kit said.Catalysts don’t decide a lifetime loving each other. Your choice to work hard at it every day is what does.
She used herself and Julia as an example, but I knew theyouin the sentence was me. If I wanted to let my feelings for Sydney become more than a passing attraction, whatever came after would sink or swim because of the actions, the choices made by Sydney and me.
Lola surprises me, coming up from behind. She bumps me on the side that isn’t pressing up against Sydney, and I turn to see a sheepish smile and hopeful but apologetic expression on her face. I want to tell her she has nothing to apologize for.
I want to tell her she was right.
“I sent Hawthorne ahead of me to get in line for axe throwing,” she says. “I figure we can all cut if he’s there.”
“Right,” I say, searching inside myself for the cool ease Sydney is so good at, which I struggle to ever exhibit. “Unlikely that anyone would challenge him to a fight.”
“Based on looks,” she says. “Little do they know he’s fully a pacifist.”
