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I wait for her to push my hand away from the nape of her neck.

I get no reaction from her. Nothing. Which means I get everything.

I keep my hand on her back as I slowly step around her. I’m standing between her and the window now, but she keeps her eyes focused on the ground. She doesn’t look up at me, because I know she doesn’t like to feel weak. And right now, I’m making her weak. I bring my free hand to her chin and graze my fingers up her jaw, tilting her face to mine.

When we lock eyes, I feel like I’m meeting a brand new side of her. A side of her without resolve. A vulnerable side. A side that’s allowing herself to feel something. I want to grin and ask her how it feels to be in love, but I know teasing her in this moment would p.i.s.s her off and she’d walk away and I can’t let that happen. Not right now. Not when I finally get to catalog an actual memory with all the numerous fantasies I’ve had about her mouth.

Her tongue slides across her bottom lip, causing jealousy to flutter through me, because I really wanted to be the one to do that to her lip.

In fact…I think I will.

I begin to dip my head, just as she presses her hands against my forearms. “Look,” she says, pointing at the building next door. The flickering light has stolen her attention and I want to curse the universe for the simple fact that a light bulb just interfered with what was about to become my absolute favorite of very few memories.

I follow her gaze to a sign that doesn’t look any different from all of the other Tarot signs we’ve pa.s.sed. The only thing different about this one is it just completely ruined my moment. And dammit, it was a good moment. A great one. One I know Charlie was also feeling, and I don’t know how long it’ll take me to get back to that.

She’s walking in the direction of the shop now. I follow behind her like a lovesick puppy.

The building is unmarked and it makes me wonder what it was about the unreliable, a.s.shole-lighting that drew her away from my mouth. The only words indicating this is even a store are the “No Cameras” signs plastered on every blackened window.

Charlie puts her hands on the door and pushes it open. I follow her inside and we’re soon standing in what looks like the center of a touristy voodoo gift shop. There’s a man standing behind a register and a few people browsing the aisles.

I try to take everything in as I follow Charlie through the store. She fingers everything, touching the stones, the bones, the jars of miniature voodoo dolls. We silently make our way down each aisle until we reach the back wall. Charlie stops short, grabs my hand and points at a picture on the wall. “That gate,” she says. “You took a picture of that gate. It’s the one hanging on my wall.”

“Can I help you?”

We both spin around and a large—really large—man with gauged ears and a lip ring is staring down at us.

I kind of want to apologize to him and leave as fast as we can, but Charlie has other plans. “Do you know what this gate is guarding? The one in the picture?” Charlie asks him, pointing over her shoulder. The man’s eyes lift to the picture frame. He shrugs.

“Must be new,” he says. “I’ve never noticed it before.” He looks at me, arching an eyebrow adorned with multiple piercings. One being a small…bone? Is that a bone sticking through his eyebrow? “You two looking for anything in particular?”

I shake my head and begin to respond, but my words are cut off by someone else’s.

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