Again, But Better

14. Don’t Stop Me Now
“You know what I just realized? We haven’t played Angry Birds.” Pilot’s grin kicks up his
cheek. The countryside shoots by the window. We’ve settled in on the RER, a few rows
back from Chad and Babe.
“Because I completely blanked and forgot to download the app on my iPod Touch
before we left.”
“That was really fun, back in the day. You ever get past that level we were stuck on?”
“No, it got to the point where I was irrationally angry at the game, so I thought it best
for my mental health to put it down.”
I study him again because I’m allowed. His smile doesn’t fade like it usually does. My
eyes wander up to his hair. Can I touch it? I suck in a breath to speak.
“What?” he says with a laugh.
“I’m going to make another move.”
“Another move? Was it the eye contact we made before you started staring at my
forehead?”
I purse my lips together. “No. And I’ll have you know, eye contact is a great move.”
I clear my throat and look away for a moment. “Okay. It’s coming. Brace yourself.”
He watches me carefully as I reach out my hand. Starting at the left corner of his
forehead, I comb my hand back slowly, letting the hair slide through the 
V
s between my
fingers. He closes his eyes for a second, leaning into my hand like a puppy. I bring my arm
back, feeling triumphant.
He opens his eyes. They hold mine for a few charged moments before he smiles. “Is
this a move-off now?” One of his eyebrows quirks up.
I shrug, shooting him a competitive look. “If we make this a real game, I think ground
rules have to be established.”
He laughs, bringing his face close to mine. “Lay them down, Primaveri.”
I pull back to a safe distance, taking a moment to think this through. A move-off, 
a
move-off
… well, kissing shouldn’t really be a move in a move-off; it’s not creative
enough. And we shouldn’t be making out when we’re with Babe and Chad anyway.
“Okay,” I reason, shifting my body to face Pilot, “so the rules of the move-off are:
We’ll take turns making moves, but a kiss is no longer a move. It was taken and is no
longer creative. First contestant to break and kiss the other before midnight loses the
move-off. We both make it to midnight, it’s a tie.”
His lips fold back into a smirk. “You’re on.”
“It’s on like Donkey Kong. There’s more hair-brushing and hand-holding where that
came from,” I say, pointing a finger at him.

---

He laughs again. I feel so warm and fuzzy. I let my smile pop on full-force because it’s
too hard to keep it under wraps.
“Your hair felt really nice,” I add.
“Thanks. I grew it myself.”
“I grew mine too!”
Versailles still steals my breath away. I whip out the camera immediately. We make our
way into the palace and up the stairs. When I’m satisfied we’ve taken enough pictures in
the room before the Hall of Mirrors, we move on in. Pilot and I amble lazily, letting Chad
and Babe take the lead again. This second time around, they’re really getting the double-
date experience. I hope things are going well. Babe hasn’t left his side to come to mine, so
it must be going at least okay.
Pilot pauses about five feet into the room, so I pause beside him. He glances around,
making a show of scanning the area.
“Disappointing,” he concludes, shaking his head.
“Excuse me?” I retort, my abs seizing.
He frowns. “Still haven’t installed that mirror maze.”
Laughter rocks through me. Pilot shoots me a delighted grin before striding onward. I
catch up to him a second later at the center of the room because he’s stopped again.
Tourists trickle around us. Babe and Chad are posing for a selfie in a mirror up ahead. I let
my gaze soften on the cloudy glass lining the wall.
“I like it better this second time around,” I muse. “My expectations were less eccentric
going in.”
I startle slightly as Pilot twists his arms around me from behind. His left hand carefully
takes hold of my right, and his right hand takes my left. I look up over my left shoulder, a
smile burning my cheeks. “What is this?”
“Brace yourself.” He grins.
I don’t have time to respond before he sways us gently to the right, then left. When we
go right again, he releases my right hand and instinctively I twirl outward, laughing. He
gives a pull, and I go twirling back into his arms, ending with my back to his heart. A few
tourists have stopped to watch us.
I look up at him over my shoulder again. He releases my left hand and twirls me
toward him. We end up face-to-face, my hand on his chest.
My heart jumps around. “Damn it, that was a great move.” His green eyes capture
mine, drawing me closer. I make a conscious effort to pull back before it’s too late.
“I thought you didn’t dance,” I chide him.
“But you do,” he says simply.
“I…” I search his eyes, bright with adrenaline and certainty.
My lips mush together. I spin away, metaphorically floating now. I keep hold of his
one hand, squeezing it as I lead us out of the hall. I can feel the eyes of random spectators
on us as we go. I’m enjoying myself too much to care.
I spot Babe and Chad talking and pointing animatedly at a painting in the next room.
My brain whirrs, trying to figure out my next move. How do I retaliate? What other moves

---

are there? I’m not good enough at moves.
Once we reach the outdoor area, I snap into photographer mode, power walking ahead
with Babe, who also has her camera out. She poses, and I crouch into weird gotta-get-that-
shot positions to frame the best possible picture of her with the endless expanse of park.
“Chad,” I throw over my shoulder. “Do you want one?” Chad scurries up for a picture.
I snap it. “Pies?” Pilot switches in. I snap a picture.
“Your turn.” He takes the camera. I switch into the photo spot. He squats down,
finding the position I was in and then twisting into a more awkward version of it, angling
his head ridiculously.
“This look right?” he asks confidently. I snort.
Babe and Chad start down the steps into the landscaped abyss. Pilot places the camera
back in my hand.
“Thank you.” I sling the camera safety strap back around my free wrist. “Shall we?” I
ask in an English accent, jutting out the crook of my arm like ladies do in old-timey
movies.
Pilot pauses and sidesteps to look at me from the front. “Is this your next move?”
“I … no,” I declare defensively. I drop my arm and head down the stairs without him.
Dang it—I should have learned to play guitar and brought one with me in the event that a
move-off should occur and played one of his songs. That would be the move of moves.
Pilot catches up with me easily. We veer off left on a trail and come up on a path lined
with skinny, dead, leafless trees. It’s stunning. I whip up my camera to snap a shot. I’m
concentrating on the shutter when I feel Pilot come right up next to my face.
“Brace yourself,” he warns again.
“Wait, but I didn’t—”
I freeze as his nose lightly brushes the side of my face. His lips dance against my ear
as he whispers, “I watched all six seasons of 
Lost
that summer after study abroad, and they
were fantastic.”
The idiot smile takes over. I drop my camera hand and rotate to face him. He doesn’t
move, so his face brushes against my cheek until we’re nose to nose.
I hold his eyes in challenge. “No, you didn’t.”
“Yeah, I did.” His smile stretches.
My heart flutters around. “No.”
“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” he says.
My jaw drops a smidge. “No…”
“Four—” he starts.
My head tilts slightly as I beam in disbelief.
“—Eight. Fifteen. Sixteen. Twenty-three. Forty-two.”
“Are you talking 
Lost
to me?” I ask, incredulous.
My skin hums. Our faces are so close.
“We have to go back,” he whispers.
“Stop it,” I protest half-heartedly. I’m very much into this, and it’s definitely working.
“If something goes wrong, be my constant?”

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