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 think I finally got a grip on transits,” I say, treading lightly. “An astrological grip, I mean. As an astronomer, I’ve known about planetary transits forever.”
“Am I going to regret asking what an astrological grip entails?” he asks warily, taking a sip of wine.
“You know, I know you don’t care about this stuff. But you always ask. Why is that? Guilt? You feel you have to make polite conversation while eating all my food?”
He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “Just seems like you process things by explaining them to people. It’s like… your thing.”
I stare at him a moment, a little unnerved by how spot-on that feels. “I’d never thought about it. But you’re absolutely right.”
“I know. So. Transits?”
“Right. At its most basic—the NASA definition—it just means that a planet passes between a star and its observer. So, if we see Mercury pass in front of the sun, that’s a transit.”
“And in your world?”
Years of conditioning nearly have me clarifying that NASA is my world, but the instinct isn’t quite as sharp as it was even a few weeks ago.
“In astrology, it’s still about the movement of planets, but there’s meaning to the movement. Determined by the relationship of the current position of the planets and the location they were in at your birth.” I pause. “You know. The natal chart. Which I need practice reading.”
He gives me a knowing look. “Nope.”
“Come on. All you need to do is give me your birth certificate. Or just give me the facts I need.”
For a couple of weeks now I’ve been begging Archer to let me study his natal chart. I’ve done Daphne’s, Lillian’s, and my sister-in-law’s. Emily is a sweetheart and had not only volunteered hers, but also promised not to tell the rest of my family.
But while the practice has been great, I want to read the chart of someone I haven’t known for years. Someone about whom I don’t have as many preconceived notions so I can do a clearer, more objective read.
Someone to practice on before I read the chart I really want to see:
Christian Hughes.
Ever since my conversation with Kylee yesterday, I haven’t been able to get the concept of astrological compatibility out of my mind.
Archer drags his last bite of chicken through his sauce and pops it into his mouth. Then looks at my plate. “You going to eat that?”
“Yes.”
He grunts and puts his plate in the dishwasher before going over to the table and picking up my latest read. “Synastry?”
“Relationship astrology,” I explain. “It’s essentially laying two people’s natal charts atop each other to create a synastry chart, and seeing how those two individuals impact and fit together.”
His jaw tenses and he tosses the book back down. “So, bullshit.”
I’m about to take a bite but I freeze at the vehemence in his tone. “Raw nerve?”
“I just don’t think two people’s future together should be determined by anything other than their own free will. If two people like each other, if they make each other happy, that’s enough. Or at least it should be.”
“Okay. Now I really want to read your chart, because I think you’re a secret romantic. But also, stubborn. A Taurus, perhaps.”
“Why don’t you just keep your attention focused on Dreamy McDaddy?”
I wince. “Please stop calling him that. It’s super creepy.”
“What’s his name again? Chris?”
“Christian.”
“Are you and Christian a match?”
I decide I’m full and I slide my plate toward him after all. He picks up my fork and begins eating the rest of my dinner like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I have no idea. I can’t exactly ask him for his birthday, much less his birth time.”
“Why not? You harass me for mine.”
“You’re different.” I wave with my wine.
“How’s that?”
“Well. You didn’t save my life,” I say sweetly, batting my eyelashes.
“Why don’t you just ask the guy out already? He’s clearly into your whole quirky vibe. He took an inordinately long time picking up Kylee the other day.”
I narrow my eyes. “How do you know that?”
“Because while you and he were gabbing on your front porch, Kylee wandered over to my yard while I was getting the mail.”
“Oh! I didn’t realize.”
Archer snorts. “Point proven.”
I bite my thumbnail and study him for a long moment. “My horoscope says I’m supposed to pursue a low-risk endeavor today. To practice for a higher-risk one.”
“Okay?”
I drop my hand. “I think reading your chart is my low-risk endeavor. Christian’s is the high risk.”
He groans.
“What if I promise to not mention a word about it to you? You said that other people’s beliefs didn’t bother you so long as it didn’t impact your life.”
Archer lets out a tired sigh. “I did say that. But the thing is, Randy, you read my chart, and even if you don’t talk to me about it, you’re still going to have thoughts. Those thoughts will annoy me.”