Page 110 of Eye of the Beholder
I’m not sure I can handle breathing and kissing Cohen at the same time. Breathing can wait.
He maneuvers us until I’m pressed up against the car, his lips still on mine, his body a shield of warmth against the cold night air. I have no idea what the meteor shower in the sky is doing at this point, but there seems to be a meteor shower going on in my mind, in the pit of my stomach.
Cohen pulls his head back abruptly, just far enough to speak. “I knew it was possible after that kiss,” he murmurs against my lips. “And after tonight. You said you liked Jack before, but the way you kissed me…I’ve never been kissed like that. And then I thought about you kissing Jack like that, and I wanted to break something.”
I put a finger under his chin and pull his lips back to mine. He complies immediately, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tightly to him as our lips move together, tenderly now—and slowly, like we have all the time in the world. In every movement he makes, I can tell how he feels—can tell he truly cares for me. Not for my body or my face—forme.
It’s something I’ve never experienced before.
“I’m going to ruin my makeup,” I say finally.
Cohen leans his forehead against mine. “I want to take you on a date,” he says, his breathing still uneven. “Lots of dates.”
“Yes, please,” I say.
“I’ll buy you food. You love that.”
“I do,” I say with a grin.
“I don’t care what you wear or how you do your makeup or your hair, Mina. Go back to the baggy clothes if you want. Jack cared about that stuff. And in the past, I have too, but…” He shakes his head. “Somehow with you I just don’t. I just want you, Mina. Bad jokes and all.”
“My jokes are hilarious,” I say, nestling my head into his chest as he holds me tightly.
He just laughs. And in the distant sky, two twin meteors shoot across the sky together, side by side, disappearing into a new horizon.
Epilogue
Mina
Three years later
“Come on,” Cohen says, laughing as he tugs at my hand.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I love you, but we’ve been over this. I have sworn off corn mazes and all other Halloween-related activities forever.”
“This isn’t a corn maze,” he says, thumping one hand on the wall of hay bales. “Straw. See?”
“No,” I say again, but I laugh too. “It’s late. You have a midterm tomorrow. We need to get you home.”
“It will be fine,” he says, still grinning at me.
And he’s probably right. After doing one year of a long-distance relationship, Cohen transferred to a school in Massachusetts. He’s doing really well. And there are perks to living in the same state as your boyfriend—you get to see him on a regular basis, for example. FaceTime is great, but it’s no substitute for the real thing. This way I don’t have to take time away from school to see him, and he doesn’t have to, either. We’ll both graduate next year, and the future looks promising. I’m managing a florist’s shop right now, but the owner wants to sell. I’ll put in a bid. There are so many things I’d love to do with the place—bring in some more color, for example, and get rid of the dark red walls. They stress me out.
Cohen keeps tugging on my hand, and I finally give in, letting him drag me into the maze. The night is chilly, but I only slightly regret leaving my jacket in the car, because it means I can just snuggle closer to Cohen.
He walks with purpose, taking each turn decisively, and I frown at him.
“You seem to know where we’re going,” I say. “Care to share?”
“Not yet,” he says, smiling at me with an air of mischief that I don’t at all care for.
“Cohen, what are you—” I say as he all but yanks me around another corner. “Oh,” I say softly, my breath catching, and I stop in my tracks.
The straw corridor stretched out in front of me is lined with candles on either side. The light flickers softly.
I turn to Cohen. “Those are fake, right? Those aren’t real flames?”
He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Of course that’s the first thing you latch onto. Yes, they’re fake. I know better than to bring open flames into a straw maze.” Then his smile softens. “Come on.”
