The-Lucky-List-Rachael-Lippincott

I take a deep, grateful breath, for the glittering stars above us, for my mom and the lucky list,
bringing me here. But also for Blake Carter, the girl who suested I do the list in the first place. e
girl who has been by my side every step of the way, speaking French, and encouraging me to try new
things, and assuring me everything will be fine with that mischievous grin of hers. e girl whose hand is
only a finger length away from mine, resting on the red and black blanket she laid out on the bottom
of her truck bed.
Just the idea of reaching out and touching it feels like an entire firework display is going o inside
me.
And I wouldn’t be holding it as she helps me climb to the top of a cli, or grabbing it to run o the
pool deck before a patrol car can catch us.
I’d be holding it because I…
I stop breathing as I reach for her, Blake inhaling sharply as our hands finally find each other’s in the
dark, our fingers touching ever so gently, my hand dancing around hers to slide slowly into her palm.
Neither of us is looking at the other, but I can feel the electricity in the air, my head swimming in a
way I have never felt before as her thumb traces circles on the back of my hand.
This time the only counting I’m doing is how many seconds I can make this moment last.