“I know.”
I hesitate outside the circle.
“What if the security guard comes back?”
“He won’t. Their rounds are hourly.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do, baby.”
I look for the pinch in her brow that means she’sannoyed. It’s absent. Her face is open,
relaxed, eager. “If you don’t believe me, then webetter make this quick.”
There is a stone lying in repose near the edge ofthe circle. Flat. Maybe eight feet long.
She doesn’t even have to look for it. She pushes onmy shoulders until I’m seated on the edge,
high enough that the toes of my shoes only brush thegrass below. She pulls them off with my
socks. Her fingers come to the hem of my shirt.
“Have you done this before? Here?”
“No.” She pulls it over my head and throws it to theside.
“It seems like you have.”
“Nope. But I’ve planned to since the first time Icame here. Just needed to find the right
person.”
“Oh.” I’m sitting in a bra and underwear. The breezebrushes across my skin, and the
rock is cool beneath my thighs. “And that’s me?”
We take off the last of our clothes, and she pushesme flat on my back.
“Do you really need to ask that?” She’s holding myface between her hands. “I get up at
7AM on Saturdays to make you pancakes for a reason.I bought you that expensive-ass signed