These feelings must play across my face in some way, because Anwar reaches out and places his hand on my shoulder.

“You probably have so much on your mind,” he says. “What can I do to help?”

Staring back in Anwar’s earnest eyes, I feel the warm glow of his concern. Suddenly I don’t want to dwell anymore on tarot mysteries or questions, if only for a little while.

So I return the cards to the deck, careful not to bend the edges. Then I stuff the deck in the secret compartment of Cleo’s backpack, which I now keep with me when Cleo doesn’t need her art supplies. Then, with the tarot put to rest, I turn back to Anwar.

Except behind him, a light goes on in the kitchen, and I see Cleo through the window at the sink. It’s not like her to get back up once she has gone to bed—she usually sleeps like the dead. Maybe she’s just getting some water or something?

I return my focus to Anwar, because all I want to do is gaze at the stars with him on the back lawn. Then I want us to finally get intimate.

Click here

“Do you mind if I check on Cleo inside for a minute?” I ask Anwar. “I just want to make sure she’s all right.”

Click here

“What are the chances we could lie down in the yard and just stare at the stars for a while?” I ask, leaning toward Anwar.

“Chances are high, on one condition,” he answers. “We get to cuddle up under some blankets?”

We. I know this is absolutely not the word to focus on in Anwar’s response, but I can’t help it. We. It sounds nice, bouncing around in my brain. So I smile, because this is one condition I can most definitely agree to.

Once we assemble the perfect blanket spread on the back lawn, I feel myself relax into the soft nook beside Anwar. This close, I can smell his comforting scent, somewhere between pine and sea breeze. I then turn my head up and take in the starry sky, spread out before us like a glittering canvas.

For what might be minutes or even hours, I lie beside Anwar in the soft grass of the backyard, feeling his warm body beside mine. We stare up without speaking for so long, it feels like I’ve entered a trance. All that remains is the rustling of the leaves and the glow of the moon and Anwar’s chest rising and falling with every steady breath.

This feels like the most intimate thing two people could possibly do. To be at ease not talking, not moving—to just be together. It requires a special kind of connection, a rare breed of magic. Right now, Anwar and I are wrapped in it.

But it only makes me crave more.