“So you’re saying I only exist in relation to you?” I frown. “Hello, Patriarchy.”

“No. I’m saying, that according to the principles of quantum mechanics, okay, no object has a definite position except when colliding with something else.” He leans his forehead against mine. “Ergo, I am lost without you.”

“Jesus,” I breathe. “You’re good.” I look down. “Ben, I have so much going on right now. I won’t be a very good—”

“Kiss me,” he says, “and then decide. Let’s put quantum mechanics to the test. If you don’t feel like you have a … definite position … in the universe when you kiss me, then okay.” He leans in. “We’re just two scientists with a question. We should test the hypothesis. Isn’t that how everything starts, anyway?”

“That is … a reasonable assertion,” I mutter.

Two days. I held out against his wiles for only TWO DAYS. Maybe I’m not commander material, after all.

Ben takes me to the banks of the Charles. Across the dark slip of water, Boston glows. The moon is a sliver, sly and winking.

I haven’t kissed someone for over a year. I’m not sure if I remember how. Riley was my height, and now the spatial logistics are all off because Ben has to bend his head to get within striking distance. Striking distance is not a very romantic term.

“Ben?”

His lips are so close. He smells like freshly roasted coffee beans and the wind.

“Yes?”

“What if … we both just get lost?” I say. “If the quantum realm is the Wild West, then we must consider how the Wild West was incredibly DANGEROUS. We could collide with other electrons and then, you know, quantum leaps, and then, I don’t know, WORMHOLES or something and—”

“It’s a metaphor.” He smiles, and it’s kind and a little bit wicked and my body moves closer to his and my hands grip his arms. “Can I kiss you, Mae?”

“Okay. Yes. For science.”

He looks up. “I owe you one, Heisenberg.”

And then:

There is no other word for it: collide. We collide.

Particle acceleration, more and more and Ben and his breath in my lungs and the taste of him and I had no idea, no idea that another person could be your oxygen supply.

I am not lost. I am utterly, utterly found.

Some spacetime insanity happens, because when he pulls away, I honestly have no idea how long we’ve been here. Maybe my hair is completely gray. Maybe there is now a colony on Mars.

If I wanted to fly solo, I should not have let Ben Tamura kiss me.

He watches me, eyes filled with nebulae.

It’s just a ride.

One ticket. One go-around. This boy.

I take Ben’s hand. Press my lips to the palm. A whole universe, beginning right here.

“Welcome to the crew,” I say.

i want to kiss someone I shouldn’t.