Page 83 of Heartbeat

“Everyone,” I said, figuring more people would probably equal less time for awkward encounters. “So are you.”

“Don’t worry. We just need to tell two or three people, and the rest will take care of itself.”

“Hopefully,” I said, still not too keen on the idea.

Ethan tried to scoot down a bit, clumsily balancing the laptop on his knees as he attempted to realign his pillow with his one free hand.

“Do you want to change positions?” I asked him, raising my head somewhat.

“No. Don’t move. I just have to…there.” He’d almost let his laptop slide over to the side and fall off the bed because he refused to let go.

I turned back to the screen, resting my head on his bare chest and mindlessly drawing shapes on his skin as we watched the film in silence.

“Imagine,” I said, “loving life that much.”

“Wouldn’t you want to be immortal?” he asked, ignoring, purposefully or not, my recent history.

I thought it sweet, to be quite honest. I would’ve hated for him to tiptoe around the subject, for whatever reason. “I would, if I had what they have.”

“Eve and Adam or Marlowe and Eve?”

“Either. Or both. I just think there wouldn’t be much point in spending eternity alone without somebody to recognize you.”

“Recognize you?” he repeated, intrigued.

“You know. Someone who can look at you and actually see you. Someone who can find you, regardless of you being able to do so yourself.”

“God, the way you talk,” Ethan said, with a breathy voice I found so very interesting.

“What?” I looked up at him.

“Most people don’t talk like that.”

“Is that…bad?”

He leaned in and kissed me, biting my bottom lip as he pulled away.

“Definitely not bad,” he softly said.

It made me completely lose focus, which was apparently becoming a habit.

“Tell me something about you,” I asked him.

“What do you want to know?”

“All of it?” I blurted out.

It seemed I was starting to say stuff I never thought I would too. Words I would normally do a better job at editing in my head before setting them free.

“Tell me some of your firsts.” I was quick to amend.

“My firsts?”

“Yeah, like…first memory?”

He thought about it for a few seconds. “Grandma Cooper holding me in her arms when I was probably about three, feeding me…something. Probably a tomato.”

“A tomato?” I smiled.

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