Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I shrug. “I’d like to think so.”
“Stanford’s in California.” His eyes lock on mine as he points out this obvious but crucial point, and I nod, feeling a little hollow inside at the thought, and yet…
“I have to at least take the interview, right?” I say. “This is the path to what I’ve always wanted.”
Archer straightens and scratches his jaw. “I’m surprised you’re not consulting your horoscope. Doesn’t that rule your life these days?”
I open my mouth, but he holds up a hand. “Hey. Don’t get pissed. I’m just pointing out that you took a year to do this astrology thing. Shouldn’t that be playing a role in your next career decision? If it does in other areas of your life?”
“Wait, I thought you hated astrology,” I say, narrowing my eyes, remembering his furious reaction at my horoscope playing a part in our kiss. As though my horoscope was to blame for the mistake.
He hedges. “I don’t hate it; I just think it’s bullshit.”
I roll my eyes. “Such a useful distinction.”
Then I frown. “It feels weird to use astrology to make a decision that has to do with science.”
He finishes his beer and drops it into the recycling bin with a shrug. “Your life, Randy. But from the outside? Seems like this whole year has been an exercise in learning how to trust yourself. Your real self.”
For some reason, that simple sentence feels even harder to wrap my head around than a potential job offer from Stanford.
And a hell of a lot more unsettling.
“Wait, what? You just drop a deep nugget like that and leave?” I ask, unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice as he heads toward the front door.
He turns around with a slight smile. “For now. Working on a few pieces that are demanding just about everything I have.”
“Oh, that’s great! You’re finally consumed,” I say, echoing his own word over the way he wants to feel about his work.
“Yeah. Yeah, apparently, I am,” he says a little quietly. He starts back down the hall again, then turns back once more. “Hey. Randy.”
“Hmm?”
“What’s Stanford going to mean for you and Christian? You going to try the long-distance thing?”
I’d just opened the fridge to make myself a salad, but I close it abruptly. Apparently I’m not entirely ready to move past New Year’s Eve, because the question grates on the emotions that still feel raw from that night.
“Asking as a friend?” I ask, a slight edge creeping into my voice.
His blink lasts a split second too long, as though he didn’t anticipate the question, or my tone. “Sure. Of course. What else?”
What else? The question says plenty and scrapes a little at my heart.
“I don’t know what my future holds,” I say simply.
It’s a half-truth, because it doesn’t feel fair to tell him I’m breaking up with Christian before Christian himself hears it.
And it’s a half-truth because I do know one thing about my future:
Simon Archer doesn’t seem to want a starring role in it.
AQUARIUS SEASON
The Sun moves into Aquarius today, darling Gemini, and with Aquarius being ruled by Uranus, stationed retrograde, rebellion and sudden change are on the horizon. If there’s a hard conversation you’ve been putting off, now is the time for it. Clear the way for a season of reinvention.
The butterflies leading up to my first date with Christian have nothing on the butterflies leading up to what is to be my last date with Christian. But now, as with then, they dissipate the instant I’m in his company.
This time, their disappearance is bittersweet. A realization that lack of butterflies isn’t always a good thing. Sometimes it can signal the absence of that certain something.
After what feels like the longest monologue of my life, he exhales and cups the mug between his two hands, giving me a rueful smile across my kitchen table. “I hope you’ll take this as the compliment it is, but you’re quite skilled at breaking up with people.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “Am I?”
I decide against telling him that I’m apparently a natural, because I have exactly zero practice in ending a relationship. I’m not sure he’d exactly be flattered to learn that this is my first time.
Christian nods. “Normally there are either tears or yelling or half-truths about it not being personal. But I feel a bit like I’ve just been presented a set of empirical facts, to which there is no other explanation besides we aren’t meant to be.”
“If it helps, I really did want us to be,” I say, meaning it.
He grins over his coffee. “Oh yeah? And you’re sure I can’t play the whole astrological compatibility card? That you and I are destined in the stars, and all that?”
I smile back, though it feels sad because I’m sad, if nothing else over the dream of what could have been. “That’s actually a big part of why I need to put a stop to this, in addition to the Stanford thing. It was one thing to go on a date with you as an astrological experiment. But to let it keep going simply as part of an astrological study isn’t ethical.”