“We need a backup plan,” I told him. “In case I fuck up.”

“Again,” Leo added.

“Again,” I admitted.

“A whole other world, or a school dance. Not much of a backup plan if you ask me.” He turned to glance out the window at Paul, who was coming up the walk with a bag in each hand. “He know?”

I shook my head.

“You love him?”

I nodded.

Leo raised his eyebrows and sighed. “Wouldn’t wanna be you right now.” Which made two of us.

Later, Paul and I sat on his living room sofa, no TV, no reason to sit there other than to be together. He was leaning into me, and my arm was around him. We were close enough to feel each other’s heartbeats, and I was trying to make mine beat in unison with his.

He rubbed a finger gently along my left lower lid. “The swelling is almost gone,” he said. Then he leaned forward and gently kissed my eye.

“All better now?” he said.

“Better than better,” I told him. Then I was hit by a wave of sorrow. Things were destined to change between us after this next jump. I tried to hold on to the slim hope that what we had wouldn’t fizzle. Paul must have seen the anguish in my face.

“I wish I could know where your head is at,” he said.

“I’m thinking about you,” I told him. A half-truth, and he knew it.

“I’m sure I’m in there somewhere,” he said. “But your thoughts are in darker places than usual tonight.”

Then his mom came in with drinks. I flinched reflexively, but Paul held my arm, making sure I didn’t pull away, because I didn’t have to anymore. His mom offered a kind smile when she saw us like that, but didn’t comment. Not at all like at my house, where there was a mandatory waiting period before I could even have Paul over.

I wished I could have stayed longer, but I had a training session with an interdimensional being to get to. Still, I stretched the minutes before I had to leave as best I could, trying to be in the moment, before these moments ceased to exist.

Fallacy #3: Practice makes perfect.

Oversimplification. Perfection is overrated. Sometimes it’s more important to fail with grace.

Case in point: my training sessions with Teddy that week. I thought I’d be in the isolation tank again, but Teddy had other plans. He worked with me outside, in the weedy, root-ridden parking lot of the crumbling toy store.

“Passively reliving your jumps can only get you so far,” Teddy said. “It’s time for you to take charge. Agility. Balance. Decisive action. That’s the Ash I want to see.”