I was hoping he might ask me to come back with him. We only get to see each other once a week. Why should we… — Dustin Thao
I was hoping he might ask me to come back with him. We only get to see each other once a week. Why should we waste the rest of the night? The snow has stopped when we come outside. Ben turns on the radio as we drive down the highway. The time honestly flies by when we're together, singing along to the music. We park the car across the street and walk up to his apartment. I change into one of his shirts while he grabs me some water from the kitchen. The Polaroid of me is still there on the wall. There's no television in Ben's room. He takes out his laptop and picks a movie for us to watch. Of course, we're not really paying close attention to it. I'm too busy appreciating how soft his hands are. He looks so beautiful in the glow of the streetlight outside his window. I take in the contours of his face, the waves in his hair, the scent of cologne that lingers on his tan skin. I want to memorize every feature, in case everything vanishes in the morning. Ben kisses my forehead. Then, slowly, he moves his lips to mine. After, he reaches over me and closes the blinds. He lays his head on me and we fall asleep together.
p. 196Source: Wikiquote · CC BY-SA 4.0
More from this book
I've made some mistakes in this timeline. But there's one I have to fix before going back.
p. 256
"If the astronomy thing doesn't work out, you would be a great chef," I tell him and take another sip of coffee. "You know what they say... whether a poet looks through a pantry or telescope, he always sees the same thing." "Is that a real quote?" "I might have revised it a little." He smiles. "And what's it supposed to mean, exactly?" "It means you see the possibility in things," I say confidently. "Regardless of what you do. Everything's a universe, if you really think about it. "I like that," he says, nodding. "Maybe you should major in philosophy." "Don't know if I'm smart enough for that." "I think you're smarter than you think you are." I don't say anything back because I'm not used to hearing people say this about me.
p. 199
He leans back, taking me in again. "I don't think I got your name, by the way." I smile. "Oliver. And you?" "I'm Ben." "Ben," I say, mostly to myself. "I've always liked that name."
p. 270

