Wanna Bet?

Part 5

Light show starting.

The text came at 11 that evening, not that I was expecting it. (I totally was.) I switched the outdoor lamps on and stepped outside.

"Hey!" he waved from the balcony beside mine.

It was slightly chilly, this late January evening, but the small gasp that came from me had little to do with the temperature and all to do with the sight of my next-door neighbor. Even in the moody light, his bedhead and the way his lanky frame was set off by his thin gray shirt and loose checkered pajamas made me a tiny bit feral.

"Were you sleeping?" he asked, leaning against the rail.

"A bit." This was ridiculous. My RJ Alpaca PJs said, "It's sleepy time" but my carefully dried hair and cheeks and lips dabbed with color stain said, "But of course I'm still cute."

"I dozed off too." He stretched, treating me to a hint of his belly. "Good thing I set an alarm. You ready?"

For the first time, I looked up. And laughed.

"Oh man." He groaned at the cloudy sky. "Nooooo." He actually shook his fists.

"Do that again! The moon came out. A little bit."

He obliged me.

"I think you need to put some more energy into it. Shake your fists like you mean it!"

He did it again, more forcefully now. "How's that?"

I searched the skies. The clouds did seem to thin out slightly. "Good job."

"Thank you." He bowed and took a sip from his cup.

"Hot choco?"

"Tea."

"Milo," I pointed to my own mug.

We grinned at each other in the chilly night air. Maybe it was the lateness and the dark, but I felt cozy and comfortable with Kiko, like this evening's misguided excursion to watch a meteor shower hidden by a thick blanket of clouds was perfectly natural.

He sighed. "It's a beautiful night, shower or not."

"It is," I agreed, though I meant my sideways view rather than the one above me. "Is this your thing? Stargazing?"

"Mmm," he said, his voice low and rumbly like the crackle of a campfire. He just sounded that way, like he carried glowing embers within him. "I love being outside. Sleeping outdoors. My dad used to take me, when I was younger. We'd hike up a hill and pitch a tent and look at the sky before we fell asleep. He taught me the constellations." He held out his phone to me. "There's an app for that, now."

"You ever fall asleep on a beach? The sea invisible in the dark, save for the sounds of the waves. The sky above you. The mosquitos feasting on your legs." I thrilled at his appreciative laugh. "That's my thing. Visiting not-so-popular beaches. Most of them are quite remote; tent required."

"Is that something you do with family?"

"Not at all." I let out a sigh, filled with years of being at odds with my closest genetic counterparts. "My family...they're very..." I drew a square in the sky. "They like everything to be known and convenient. They love boundaries and rules and the lowest-risk reasons for doing things. Choosing to go somewhere without electricity to sleep rough because nature, that's not something they get." I glanced at him, his chin propped on his hand. He was listening intently to me. "Sorry, I didn't mean to spew. It's just––you know how you might want to share things with the people closest to you, but they're not interested?"

"I'm familiar."

"That's me." I chuckled in the dark. "Lord, even living here alone, unmarried at my age...To my family, I might as well be soft in the head, that's how alien they think my choices are."

"You mean, why live alone when you should be staying with them as a good unmarried daughter ought?"

"Precisely. I mean, they put it in the most practical terms. The cost of my mortgage and utilities when I could be saving so much if I lived with them. In the same bedroom I've slept in since I was nine."

We both paused, waiting for the sky to clear.

"Families, eh?" he chuckled.

"Yeah." I shook my head and took a sip of my now lukewarm Milo. "You're lucky you got to share those outdoor experiences with your dad."

He let out a small noise, a scoffing rumble in his chest. After a moment, he said, "It's been a very long time since I saw my dad."

"Oh."

"He left some time before I went to college."

I kept quiet, embarrassed by the turn of our conversation. Half of me wanted to go over and be close to him, somehow, despite the meter that separated our railings and the frightening drop to the pool below.

"It was why I had to work. The modeling thing. To help with some of the household expenses." He sighed again. "I don't know where he is. But every time I look at the stars, I remember that it wasn't all bad, before I left home to make my own. It wasn't all fighting and Cold War silence. Pa and I had the night sky."

I thought about that in a long silence.

"That's deep."

He burst out laughing.

"First one to spot a meteor––" we both said at the same time. I motioned to him to go first.

"What about an adobo cook-off?" he suggested. "Loser hosts the winner."

I was just about to agree when the moon showed itself for the first time. "Ooh, look, the clouds are moving!"

We excitedly pressed against the railings, eyes upward, eager to spot a falling star. Quick as a flash, a streak of light dashed near the horizon. We gasped at the same time.

"Who saw it first?" I asked.

"I can't tell." He was still looking at the sky, a grin now touching his lips.

"I'll take the L."

He looked at me, surprise touching his face. It was as much as I felt myself, not only for volunteering to host the cook-off and have my sexy neighbor in my house, judo knowledge notwithstanding, but also for actually saying I lost. I was competitive AF: losing wasn't something I voluntarily admitted. But something about this night, the cozy feeling, the falling star and the small things we'd shared with each other––it made me feel generous. It made me feel brave enough to let him in.

"Next Friday night?"

"You're on," he said.