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Russell set his empty bottle down, then he lay back too and looked up. “Wow.”
“I know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one like this.”
We just lay there next to each other for a moment, looking up, the silence easy and comfortable between us. I turned my head to look at him—he was so close to me. I could have reached out and touched him without even having to extend my arm all the way.
“Have you ever seen the Sistine Chapel?” Russell asked.
“The—what? In Italy?”
“Yeah.”
“Not in person. I’ve seen pictures, though.”
“Well—when you go and see it, there are all these signs everywhere saying you’re not allowed to lie down. Like in every different language, and with pictures and everything.”
“Okay.”
“So I was there with my family, we were all together, seeing it as a group with a guide. And after they’d told us all about it, the rest of my family started to leave. And I saw my moment.”
“You lay down?”
“I had to do it! I wanted to see it from that perspective—like Michelangelo would have.”
“And?”
“It was incredible. Truly. It’s almost too much to take in. Overwhelming, but in a good way.”
“Did you get in trouble?”
“Oh yeah,” he said immediately, and I laughed. “I only had a few moments before the guards were running toward me yelling in Italian and our guide was admonishing me.” He turned back to look at the sky, folding his arms behind his head. “But I hadn’t seen anything else that felt like that—until now.”
I looked back at the sky. “I know. It’s so beautiful.”
“Yeah,” Russell said. But I turned and saw that he was no longer looking up at the sky—he was looking at me.
My breath caught in my throat. I felt like we were on the border of an undiscovered country. At a threshold we’d been moving toward since the moment we first spoke. And it was scary and exciting—but right. Like every step had been in the right direction—and led us here.
I smiled at Russell, even though my heart was beating so wildly I was pretty sure he could probably hear it.
He looked at me for a moment longer, his eyes searching mine. Then he rolled over so that he was on his side, leaning on his elbow. He reached out and touched my face gently with the back of his hand, tracing the curve of my cheek and making me shiver. “Darcy,” he said. A second later, he shook his head. “I honestly can’t believe that’s your name.”
“What about it?”
“It’s…” He hesitated. “Nothing. It suits you. You’ll be what I think of when I hear the name from now on.”
“And you’re the first Russell I’ve met. I’ve never known another one.”
“Most people say the kid from Up.”
“That kid was awesome! Great Russell representation. You should be proud.” He gave a half laugh, and then we lapsed back into silence again, but it wasn’t simply comfortable now—it was charged, with everything we were on the verge of. I was all too aware that it would take just a single step for us to cross over. Like a line of dominos a breath away from tipping over and causing a cascade.
I summoned my courage and did what I’d been wanting to do since I first saw him bent over our favorite book at the bus station—I stretched my hand up and ran my fingers through his hair, tangling them in his curls.
Russell caught my hand in his, threading his fingers through mine, and even though his hand was a lot bigger, I couldn’t help but notice how nicely our hands fit together, how good my hand felt in his.
He played with my Silverspun bracelets, and then kissed the back of my hand. When he did this, I felt a thrill that extended through me all the way to my toes. Then Russell turned my hand over and traced the inside of my palm with his index finger, slow spirals and lazy figure eights, making my breath come more shallowly. It was all amazing, just like I’d known it would be. We hadn’t even kissed yet, and it felt like I was on the verge of exploding.
He ran two fingers around my palm in a slow circle, then bent his head, kissed my palm, and traced his mouth down my hand to the inside of my wrist.
