it was because he wasn’t the one . She saw stars the first time she laid eyes on Daddy. The same thing would happen to me when I found the one.
I’ve been seeing constellations, both literally and figuratively, since the moment I glimpsed Shay across the bar.
Boy, I am in trouble. I squeeze my eyelids shut and take a deep breath, trying to calm my thudding heart. I’d never believed in love at first sight. Lust at first sight, yeah, but never love.
This may be what it’s like to experience both at the same time.
Dan leads us up a narrow set of squeaky stairs to the second floor. We pause at the landing at the top of the stairs to peruse the book collection housed behind a layer of Plexiglas. Overzealous tourists had likely damaged the old books before the museum owners installed the clear shield.
Like the rest of the house, exotic furnishings and artwork fill the bedroom, but what Thea is most attracted to sprawls out on the wrap-around verandah: the cats.
I’d heard the tour. Mom loves to visit, and a close friend of hers once worked here as a guide. Thea grins when our guide introduces us to the nearby cats: Marlene Dietrich, Rita Hayworth, and Greta Garbo, named after stars from the Golden Age of Hollywood.
I keep a close eye on Thea, afraid she might try to smuggle out one of the smaller cats in her gigantic bag.
Greta Garbo is smitten with Thea too. I can’t blame the little tuxedo cat. If Thea invited me to rest my head on her lap, I wouldn’t be able to resist.
We’d make an interesting sight.
Our group shuffles ahead, and I motion to Thea, the curls loosened from her ponytail bobbing as she says goodbye to Greta.
She slides beside me in the gallery and my fingers ease in between hers. My heart thumps against my sternum. A two-ton weight constricts my chest.
The fragrance of gardenias and red ginger float from the gardens below, but they can’t compare to Thea. I could drown in the delicious fruitiness enveloping her.
My head reels and my heart shifts.
Is this love?
The logical side of my brain tells me “no way, man!” You can’t love someone after one day. Can you?
But it’s not simple lust.
We’re at least wedged somewhere between the two.
I’m not one for casual sex—I’ve had one girlfriend and dated some in college, but spent most of my time studying. Med school has been my top priority for a decade.
Funny how I’d thought of school so little since last night.
I stare at Thea while she examines the old photos.
“What? Stop staring!”
I run the pad of my thumb across her palm, which must be sensitive because she trembles.
I’ve experienced those same little quakes since I first spotted her, and they’ve escalated to a nine-point-zero on the Richter scale.
We head downstairs and out to the patio.
“Oooh! I came across a story about the pool when I was researching a paper in my American lit class sophomore year.” Thea’s gaze drops to the ground and finds the penny embedded there. She snaps a picture of the coin, then grins back at me. “Do you know the story?”
The same question I’d asked her last night concerning the constellations. “Why don’t you tell me?” Her face lights up, and her eyes crinkle at the corners.
“Well, the pool was expensive, even by today’s standards. In a fit of rage about the cost, Hemingway threw the coin and told his wife to take his last penny because she’d spent everything else.”
She motions at the ground like she’s flinging something and her face screws up in mock anger. If I weren’t already smitten, I would be now.
“I like the way you tell it.” I imitate her gestures, and she playfully taps my arm with her small fist. I deflect a second tap and grab her hand, holding it while we stroll around the rest of the grounds.
Too soon, she lets go of my hand so she can snap more photos.
I gesture at the camera. “That’s an impressive piece of equipment,” I note.
“That’s what she said.”
I
I’ve been seeing constellations, both literally and figuratively, since the moment I glimpsed Shay across the bar.
Boy, I am in trouble. I squeeze my eyelids shut and take a deep breath, trying to calm my thudding heart. I’d never believed in love at first sight. Lust at first sight, yeah, but never love.
This may be what it’s like to experience both at the same time.
Dan leads us up a narrow set of squeaky stairs to the second floor. We pause at the landing at the top of the stairs to peruse the book collection housed behind a layer of Plexiglas. Overzealous tourists had likely damaged the old books before the museum owners installed the clear shield.
Like the rest of the house, exotic furnishings and artwork fill the bedroom, but what Thea is most attracted to sprawls out on the wrap-around verandah: the cats.
I’d heard the tour. Mom loves to visit, and a close friend of hers once worked here as a guide. Thea grins when our guide introduces us to the nearby cats: Marlene Dietrich, Rita Hayworth, and Greta Garbo, named after stars from the Golden Age of Hollywood.
I keep a close eye on Thea, afraid she might try to smuggle out one of the smaller cats in her gigantic bag.
Greta Garbo is smitten with Thea too. I can’t blame the little tuxedo cat. If Thea invited me to rest my head on her lap, I wouldn’t be able to resist.
We’d make an interesting sight.
Our group shuffles ahead, and I motion to Thea, the curls loosened from her ponytail bobbing as she says goodbye to Greta.
She slides beside me in the gallery and my fingers ease in between hers. My heart thumps against my sternum. A two-ton weight constricts my chest.
The fragrance of gardenias and red ginger float from the gardens below, but they can’t compare to Thea. I could drown in the delicious fruitiness enveloping her.
My head reels and my heart shifts.
Is this love?
The logical side of my brain tells me “no way, man!” You can’t love someone after one day. Can you?
But it’s not simple lust.
We’re at least wedged somewhere between the two.
I’m not one for casual sex—I’ve had one girlfriend and dated some in college, but spent most of my time studying. Med school has been my top priority for a decade.
Funny how I’d thought of school so little since last night.
I stare at Thea while she examines the old photos.
“What? Stop staring!”
I run the pad of my thumb across her palm, which must be sensitive because she trembles.
I’ve experienced those same little quakes since I first spotted her, and they’ve escalated to a nine-point-zero on the Richter scale.
We head downstairs and out to the patio.
“Oooh! I came across a story about the pool when I was researching a paper in my American lit class sophomore year.” Thea’s gaze drops to the ground and finds the penny embedded there. She snaps a picture of the coin, then grins back at me. “Do you know the story?”
The same question I’d asked her last night concerning the constellations. “Why don’t you tell me?” Her face lights up, and her eyes crinkle at the corners.
“Well, the pool was expensive, even by today’s standards. In a fit of rage about the cost, Hemingway threw the coin and told his wife to take his last penny because she’d spent everything else.”
She motions at the ground like she’s flinging something and her face screws up in mock anger. If I weren’t already smitten, I would be now.
“I like the way you tell it.” I imitate her gestures, and she playfully taps my arm with her small fist. I deflect a second tap and grab her hand, holding it while we stroll around the rest of the grounds.
Too soon, she lets go of my hand so she can snap more photos.
I gesture at the camera. “That’s an impressive piece of equipment,” I note.
“That’s what she said.”
I
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