“Just listen,” he urged.
“I can’t hear anything,” I said to him, leaning in a little.
“Listen again.”
I held my breath and listened. It was so silent here. Well, at first, anyway. The sounds were subtle though. The buzz of a beetle, the sound of something walking, maybe a small rodent, over the dry sand. Something rustling in a bush. The slight movement of sand as a light breeze picked some up and dropped it somewhere else. I closed my eyes and the sounds seemed to fall into a predictable, rhythmic pattern now. Slow and long and . . .
“Oh wow.” I opened my eyes and looked at Mark. “It’s breathing. In and out. The desert is breathing. It’s alive.” I gazed around into the dark, dark night. “You really love it out here, don’t you?” I asked, turning back to him and his stormy eyes.
“I do. There’s nowhere on earth quite like this place. And I’ve been to a lot of places. I have traveled all over the world, but I would come back here over and over again.”
“It’s your signature fragrance,” I said. “The sound of the desert is your signature fragrance. You know some people can smell in colors, or hear colors. Maybe with you, you smell in sound.”
“What?” He moved closer to me.
“I think it’s called synesthesia, I read about it once. I used to read a lot when I was young, you know!” I blew my cheeks up to a much rounder face. “I read about this girl who could see colors in sounds and could touch them too.”
Mark took another step closer to me; he was looking at me intensely now. His eyes boring into me.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re not what you seem, you know that?”
“Aren’t I?”
He shook his head. “No. You have these bursts of strange, yet somehow profound thoughts about parallel universes and inanimate objects breathing.”
I laughed. “My ex used to tell me to keep those thoughts to myself. He used to say they were off brand.”
“Off brand?”
“Yeah, our brand as a couple was to be inspirational and aspirational. I was supposed to say motivational things, like ‘Find your purpose and step into it,’ and ‘Visualize your goals and don’t let anything stand in your way,’ and ‘Own the day!’ Not weird things.”
“Supposed to say?” he asked, looking concerned now. “Your ex sounds like he was very controlling?”
Controlling?The word hit me in the silent night . . . hard. “I mean . . . I guess . . . he was clear about what he wanted.” I felt defensive again.
“What about what you wanted?” he asked.
“I mean, I wanted it too.”
Mark looked skeptical. “Did you?”
“You know, when Kyle and I started going out I only had one hundred and fifty thousand followers, and now I have over three hundred thousand.” I shook my head. “Had! Had,” I quickly corrected. “I don’t have those anymore.” My shoulders slumped suddenly.
“Well, I think your ex sounds like a total moron. I hate him.”
“Really?”
Mark nodded. Slowly and deliberately. And then the nod stopped, and he just looked at me. It stole my breath. “I think I know what your signature fragrance is now,” he said, his voice a little husky-sounding.
“What?” I was suddenly feeling very transfixed with this man in front of me. The spell! I was succumbing to the spell.
“Well, it’s hard to tell with you at first. You’re closed. Everything is very measured, and controlled. But then you open up slightly. Slowly. Showing only little parts of yourself. Pops of color and little eccentricities. That’s what your fragrance would be like. Subtle at first, almost something you can’t smell, and then you get bursts of bright fragrances, citruses and then something fun and irreverent like tuberose. Bright and breezy. Quirky.”
“Wow, okay . . .” I said breathily, looking straight into his eyes. Everything suddenly changed between us; even the desert wasn’t breathing like it had been a few moments ago. It seemed to be breathing faster, a little shallower—or was that me? I couldn’t quite tell.
“You’re looking at me like you like me,” I suddenly blurted out, all gin courage.
