Arizona days are hot.
Really hot.
The sun beats down on your back, and the bugs crawl all over you.
Some nights are nice, though, because the temperature drops a little, there's a cool breeze, and the stars are visible.
It was on one of those nights that the boys and I went out for pizza, and discussed one of our next tour stops.
"We have to visit Jada, of course," Josh said.
"Jada says we have to go to 'Hot Basil'." Ben added.
"Update!" Sky raised his hand, looking down at his phone. "Jada has a performance the day we get there."
"We get there at like, eight o'clock." DeMarius shook his head. "What time is the show?"
"Nine. And it's a couple hours long."
Josh winced. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to make it to that. We'll have just gotten there after driving for over five days."
"I don't think I'll be able to go either." Ben apologized.
"Nope." DeMarius shook his head. "I love the girl, but that's staying out too late after a trip like that."
Sky looked down at me.
I sighed, giving in. "What show is it?"
"Wicked."
"I'll come with you."
He smiled. "Thank you."
"I've never been to New York." I said, changing the subject. "What's it like?"
"Traffic is crazy in some areas, but definitely not as bad as you're used to." DeMarius answered, referencing my extensive L.A. traffic experience.
"They've got some cool stuff, though." Josh piped in. "Theaters, parks, I once saw a poetry cafe of some kind,"
A shotgun went off in my head. "Where?" I demanded.
He's expression grew slightly concerned at the urgency I'd asked the question with. "Not far from the Richard Rogers. Small little place called 'Cream and Sugar'. Owners throw a poetry night every Friday."
"What kinds of poetry did you hear there?" My eyes were still wide and my words were still rushed.
"Breathe." Sky reminded me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"Sorry," I took a deep breath. "What kind of poetry?" I repeated.
Josh shrugged. "Slam poetry, free verse, elegies, sonnets, etc."
"How long are we in NYC?" I asked.
"'Bout a week." Ben answered. "I'm assuming you'd like to go to this poetry cafe?"
"I might kill to go. But I don't know the city."
"I'll take her." Sky said.
I looked up at him. "Really?"
He nodded. "I'll take you to the poetry cafe that Friday, and we can get back to the hotel before it gets too late."
I glanced at the others. "That okay with you guys?"
They nodded.
"I'm just wondering why you two are making so many plans to go off alone?" Josh rested his chin on the palms of his hands.
I felt my cheeks color slightly. "That's just how it worked out."
Josh shrugged, smirking. "Whatever you say."
Sky took his hand away from my shoulder.
I looked down at my plate.
We eventually finished eating, and all chipped in to pay the bill.
"Sorry about Josh." Sky said to me as we walked the couple of blocks back to the hotel. The others were a good couple hundred feet ahead of us, leaving just him and me.
I dismissed his apology with a wave of my hand. "Don't sweat it."
We walked side-by-side, the tension nearly unbearable.
"You're a poet?" He broke the silence.
I nodded, smiling. "I am."
"Are you planning on performing at that cafe?"
"Oh, gosh, no." I laughed. "I just want to listen. So," I braced myself for his reaction, "what's Wicked?"
He stayed calm, probably used to me having no knowledge of even the most well-known shows. "It's the backstory of the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz."
"Who does Jada play in the show?"
"I didn't ask her." He pulled out his phone. "One sec."
We had to cross the street to another sidewalk. The others were out of sight.
We stepped off the curb and walked out onto the dark pavement, whose puddles reflected the stars.
I walked ahead, Sky following a yard or two behind.
I didn't even see the car until it honked its horn.
I turned around and shouted, "Sky!"
He'd been texting Jada, and hadn't noticed the van speeding down the street.
It was going too fast to stop and wait for him to cross.
He looked up, but didn't realize what was happening in time to move out of the way himself, so I ran back and grabbed him by the sleeve.
I dragged him to the sidewalk, and we watched the car speed away.
"Are you hurt?" I asked, searching him.
"I'm fine," He steadied me, placing his hands on my shoulders. "I'm fine."
I took a slow and shaky breath.
"Hey," he pulled me to him, enveloping me in his arms. "I'm fine."
"Okay." I nodded.
"Calm down."
I timed my breathing, looking up and settling the side of my head against his chest.
"Look how pretty the stars are." I said.
He looked up too. "They're beautiful."
"I love stars." I breathed, managing a smile. "I write about them a lot. If I ever compare you to the stars, that means you're irreversibly special to me." I threw in a little bit of a sarcastic tone to ease the tension.
He laughed. "You've written countless poems comparing me to stars then, haven't you?"
I pushed him away from me, laughing as well. "I hate you."
"I demand a signed manuscript!" He declared.
It was probably because I was cold, or maybe it was because we'd almost been killed by a car and my sanity was somewhere in Wisconsin, or maybe it was because I enjoyed being carefree for a few minutes, but I turned and ran down the sidewalk.
He chased after me, calling out price negotiations for the book of poetry about him.
I actually hadn't written anything about him, but I was getting close to considering it.
No, he wasn't special, exactly, but there was a connection. A connection I'd never felt before.
And it was strange, but it felt good.
