Summer of Supernovas by Darcy Woods Page A

dumbest question. I blame it wholly on France.
    He laughs. “No. Better. ” I shiver at his uneven breath at my ear, shivering more when he kisses the hollow beneath it. “But I’m stopping.” He takes a step back.
    I close my eyes. If I’m better than dessert, why doesn’t he kiss me a little longer? It’s me. It must be me.
    When I reopen my eyes, he’s frowning.
    “You think I stopped because I wanted to, don’t you?”
    My lips still tingle. “Well, I thought maybe it was…”
    Seth shakes his head, placing his hands on either side of my face. “I stopped because I wanted more, Wil. Too much more.” The last words are emphasized in a way I can’t mistake.
    My mouth goes slack, forming an O, but no sound comes out.
    “But I wanna do this right with you.” His hands slide away, much to my disappointment. “Come on.” He drapes his arm over my bare shoulders. “You feel cold.” He briskly rubs my arm to work up the circulation. “You should definitely bring a sweater on Friday.”
    “Why, what are we doing?”
    “It’s a surprise.” He glances at me, then does a double take. “Hey, no pouting or I might say to hell with taking it slow.”

    I grin. “Not even a hint?”
    “It’ll be unforgettable.”
    Later that night, I fall asleep replaying my kiss with Seth. I dissect the details—the softness of his lips, the scent of his skin, the husky way he said he wanted much more. I loop it over and over. And wonder what Friday will bring.

O ne perk of astrological know-how is that you never have to wonder for very long. The generosity of Jupiter lingers for the month of June—assuring me that my happily-ever-after is all but a planetary promise.
    Which makes the ambiguity of Friday’s horoscope extra annoying.
    Expect the unexpected. Today will bring a curious turn of events.
    So, basically, I can expect…anything to happen tonight. “Anything” seems broad, even by horoscope standards. My eyes catch on the wall calendar, where bold Sharpie X s count down to June’s end. I am seventeen days ahead of schedule. I should be jumping for joy, right?
    “Hey, quit blinking or I’ll poke out your eyes,” Irina scolds, poising the eyelash curler. She crashed here last night and conveniently packed her extensive makeup collection so we could get ready for our dates together.

    “Look down,” she commands. “No, too far. There! Whatever you’re looking at, keep your eyes there. ”
    I train my stare on the dermal piercing at the center of her chest. The tiny silver disk must have hurt like hell, although Irina assures me it didn’t. But I’m not sure I trust the pain assessment abilities of anyone who regularly punctures their own skin for sport.
    “I still can’t believe you’re dating an eastsider,” Iri grumbles. “I mean, take away the money, good looks, and charisma—what’s even left?”
    “Yeah, Seth’s an absolute loser. I should be setting my sights a lot higher.” I roll my eyes.
    My night out with Seth was the topic of conversation over Gram’s famous meat loaf and mashed potatoes last night. Gram seemed pleased enough with my recap. Iri, however, has remained skeptical. But that’s a Leo thing—it’s in her nature to constantly challenge.
    Just like it’s in my nature to see this truth and not take it personally.
    Irina shakes her head before pumping the mascara wand in the tube. “But how do you even know he’s the Sagittarius you’re looking for?”
    “Because he told me his birthday is December fifth. The exact date on Mr. Right’s chart. If that’s coincidence, then it’s extraordinary.”
    “Look up,” Iri instructs, putting a coat on my lower lashes. “So, what’s the plan again for tonight?”

    “Dinner at…um, well, he didn’t say. Followed by something I’ll find ‘mind-blowingly awesome and unforgettable.’ ”
    “Huh. So, you know nothing about what you’re doing.” Disapproval overshadows the sarcasm in her tone. Now she’s making