The Brightest Star in a Constellation

57: Riding With You

☽ Peter ☽

The windshield wipers glide back and forth, parting the raindrops that flow onto the car. The sky is white like the sheet of a sailboat; like the colour of the assessment papers in my lap.

Evan parks the car in a field behind the psychology practice, where we're enclosed by dense trees and park benches collecting puddles on their surface.

I forfeit the papers to him. I've already read them myself while waiting for him to pick me up. "Here."

He flips through the damp pages, counting them aloud. There is thirteen pages worth of information that the psychologist explained in detail, including a list of helpful strategies and coping mechanisms.

"Fucking hell. Now I understand why this took four hours."

I recline in my seat. My sunglasses slip down my nose slightly. Evan was the one who suggested I put them on, even though it wasn't that bright out. But I've gotten used to it. It makes the world dimmer—less overwhelming.

"This is a good thing," I say as he hands me the results back. "Really."

Officially: Autism. Unofficially: Suzanna was right. I guess I'm not as neurotypical as I once thought.

I feel free, in actuality.

"You told Suzanna?" Evan asks, to which I nod.

She was the reason I got an appointment so quickly, and I texted her number as soon as I got the results. "She hasn't responded, but she's probably busy."

Evan presses a hand to Europa's heating system. Warm air blows against my cheeks.

I ask, "What's in that envelope, anyway?"

"This?" Evan reaches into his pocket and shows me the inside; it contains a stack of bills held together by an elastic band. "It's just an early birthday gift. I guess he feels bad about the college fund."

He puts it back into place and extends his hand to mine. I take it, and he squeezes my palm.

"Sorry that I made you wait for so long."

"Not like I had anything else to do today," he answers, his fingers flicking across my wrist. He moves closer to me, reaching over the clutch. "No dates to get to."

"What are you implying?" I say, turning away from the window.

He smiles when he meets my eyes. It's coy, and he pulls me down so that our lips are dangerously close. "That this should count as our first date."

"Really?" I gesture at the rain pelting the car windows. "You want this to be..."

The smile spreads across his face, and he rests his face against my chest. I hold the back of his neck.

"It fits," he says, and leans in to kiss me. Like the first time, it starts out slowly, and Evan quickly deepens the intensity. There's considerable space between us, and he keeps a hand against me to bring it closer.

My breathing increases as his tongue runs across my lips, breaking the kiss and resting his nose against mine. "Unless," he continues, "we aren't..."