My cheek itches, and he reaches out and brushes it with the pads of his fingers. They come away glistening.

“Oh.” I stare at his skin. Tears. Actual tears.

That’s eight times.

“Lacrimal ducts are a bitch,” he says. “I’m taking an anatomy elective right now, so I know words like lacrimal ducts. You impressed?”

“With you?” I say. “Always.”

I’ve been his girlfriend less than a week, but it’s very strange because I keep thinking, haven’t we always been together? For years and years?

“That’s my girl.” He holds up a to-go cup of coffee. “A Castaways restorative. Dirty chai latte, heavy on the dirty. Made it myself. Might not be too hot since it took me ten years to get here after my shift.”

I reach out, my hand unsteady and a bit slimy with pumpkin. “Thanks.” I take a sip. Spicy and bitter and sweet. “Chai and coffee?”

He nods. “Good, right?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles down at me, very messy and sleepy-looking from an opening shift. Coffee stains on his sweatshirt.

He leans close and tucks back a strand of hair that has slipped from behind my ear. My olfactory bulb is taking notes. “I had a dream about you last night.”

“You did?”

“You were on the space station, and we were video chatting—can we do that?”

“Yes,” I say. “The satellites are pretty good.”

“Okay, well, you were doing somersaults for me. It was awesome.”

“Really?” Just the thought—the thought of that reality. I can hardly breathe.

It feels so far away now. Six more days until my Annapolis interview. I haven’t cancelled it, but I haven’t decided not to cancel it, either.

Ben nods. “Really. You looked totally at home in zero gravity.” He leans in and presses his lips against mine. “More where that came from,” he murmurs as footsteps in the kitchen get closer.

“Ah, Ben, you’re here,” Nate says, trooping in. He dumps a new set of knives on the table. “Where’s my coffee?”

“In Cambridge,” Ben says. “Go get it.”

“Bastard.” Nate glances at the cup in my hand, eyes narrowed. “So. This. You two. I refused to believe it until I saw it. It’s go for launch, then?”

“Oh, it’s launched,” Ben says.

I roll my eyes. “Last Friday, Ben here used quantum mechanics to tell me he was lost without me.” I take a sip of my chai. “What could I do?”

Nate barks out a laugh. “Heisenberg?” Ben nods. “Nice.”

My cousin hands me a large metal spoon and gestures to the five-pounder. “Get in there, Mae. I’ve got some serious nerd ass to kick. First prize gets honor, glory, and—most important—two tickets to the first home game between the Sox and the Yankees.”