He snorted. “It probably would have been cheaper.”
“You think? You should have seen the look on my face when the little midget friend of yours, Jennifer Lopez, told me it was a billion dollars. I think I probably can’t ev
er go back there because everyone will know me as that guy who shit himself in the bike store. So yes, I want my fucking present. I’ve earned my fucking present. Go get it.”
He rolled his eyes, but I could see the small smile on his face. “Bossy bastard,” he mumbled and walked out of the room. I pulled up the comforter and did a really lame thing by putting my face down on the pillow and inhaling deeply, delighted that it smelled like him. I figured I was either a sappy romantic or a creepy stalker. Then I decided (though it did not stop me) that sniffing pillows is never romantic, just creepy. Or maybe creepily romantic to the point where soon, I’d probably want a lock of his hair that I could put on the shrine I’d make to him that I’d hide in the back of my closet that I’d take out on alternating Tuesdays to light candles to while I made out with a picture of him with the lips cut out. Yeesh.
He came back into the room, refusing to look at me as he clutched a large flat envelope to his chest. “You don’t have to like it,” he mumbled. “If you don’t, it’s not going to hurt my feelings at all.”
And that was bullshit, and I knew it as soon as he said it. He wanted me to like his gift, and he was nervous about giving it to me. I felt a bit weird seeing him act like that; there was this syrupy, queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that made me want to get out of the bed and wrap myself around him and protect him from all the stupid shit in the world. Once again, I marveled at the fact that I’d known the man in front of me for only a week, had heard his voice for the first time only five days before. I pushed the thought of my parents and their quickie marriage out of my head (because, really, not only was it a frightening thought, but I didn’t want to think about my parents while my ass still felt stretched and I was sitting half naked in my boyfriend’s bed; sort of killed the mood that way).
“Can’t decide if I like it if you’re not going to give it to me,” I told him lightly, like I was talking to a skittish animal. He clutched at the envelope a bit more tightly, scrunching it up against his chest. He looked horrified that it had gotten wrinkled and quickly smoothed it back down again, worrying his bottom lip a bit. “Vince.”
He sighed and crawled into the bed next to me, sitting up against the headboard, his long body stretched out next to mine. It was all I could do to not reach out and rub my hands along his stomach.
He handed over the envelope, still without looking at me. He started gnawing on a fingernail, tapping his other hand nervously against his chest. I was curious as to the contents of the envelope that had gotten him so keyed up. I wondered if I’d open it to find something evil, like he was actually trying to blackmail me, and I would find photographs inside of myself in some kind of compromising position with hookers and a pile of cocaine (never mind the fact that I didn’t know any hookers and did not own a pile of cocaine). Then I realized I didn’t hold any kind of political office, but his father did, and then I wondered if it would be photographs of his father with hookers and cocaine and that Vince needed my help to bring down the corrupt Tucsonan government because Vince really worked for the FBI and then we’d have to go on the run and there’d be gunfights and explosions and sex on sun-drenched private beaches where we’d be in hiding for the rest of our lives….
I opened the envelope, half expecting the damning photos to fall out. Instead, there was a piece of paper and a photograph printed off the computer of the night sky with a specific star circled. I read through the letter, unable to speak because my breath was caught in my chest.
“I just thought that you’d like it,” Vince said, glancing over at me out of the corner of his eye. “You knew so much about the constellations that I thought it’d be cool if you had a star named after you, so I went online and found out you could do that! It was only twenty-five dollars and I don’t think you actually own the star, but it’s called Paul James Auster now, and it’s the only one in the whole universe with that name. I tried to get one as close to Orion’s Belt as I could. Well, I tried to see if I could get one of the stars in Orion’s Belt, but then I remembered those were already named and somebody probably already owned them. I tried to find online who did so I could see if they wanted to sell them, but even after looking for three hours, I couldn’t find it, so I just got you a different one instead. But if you don’t like it, I’ll just keep it for me and then I’ll have a star named Paul, and I think that’d be okay, too, so don’t—”
“Vince.” My voice was rough.
“Yeah?”
“You did this for me?”
He shrugged. “Guess so. You know, for your birthday. And because I think you’re awesome. So… happy birthday.”
“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” I told him truthfully. “Thank you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And then he beamed at me, full force, dimples and all, and I gave a little yelp as I rolled over onto his chest, kissing the ever-fucking life out of him. He gave a startled grunt but opened up quickly enough, and there was nothing more glorious than his mouth on mine right at that moment, frantic and messy. That little light in my chest exploded into a shining array of fireworks across a night sky, blues and greens, reds and yellows, like the grand finale of some spectacular.
And later, as his breathing evened out and he fell asleep against me, his face buried in my neck, I realized it for what it was.
A star? I thought. Could there have been anything more ridiculously awesome than that? I mean, who does shit like that? Not to mention he’s apparently three-quarters of the way in love with me after seeing me trip while my junk flopped about. I don’t even want to know what has to happen for him to be all the way in love with me. Not that I want that. At all. In any way, shape, or form. Not even a little bit. Not even the smallest inkling. Not even if I’m already in love with him myself, and—
My eyes widened. No. No fucking way.
“Oh sweat balls,” I whispered as Vince slept on.
And that’s when I made the decision to do a very stupid thing.
Love blows like that, sometimes.
Chapter 15
Red Leader, Red Leader: The Whale Has Breached
“ARE you sure you want to do this?” Sandy asked me the next day.
I sighed. “No. But I have to.”
“Actually, you don’t,” he reminded me. “And I still don’t get why you’re doing this.”