“It was very adorable, but just know if you’re that embarrassed, it dies with me.”
“And lives on with every other New Yorker who saw it!”
“Well, think twice next time. Better yet, don’t think twice. Isn’t life more freeing when you just let go?”
Orion doesn’t think twice about kissing me. “Like that?”
“Just like that.”
I take his hand as we climb the stairs and step out into Times Square like it’s my first time. It’s different from last night. The sun is high and the mega screens are showing regular ads instead of the Death-Cast hourglass. Tourists are going in and out of shops. A crowd is surrounding two break-dancers, looking like street ballerinas as they spin around on flattened cardboard in white tank tops and sweatpants. Cars are crawling through Times Square so slowly it’s like they’re driving through sand. A hot dog vendor is haggling with someone, and I’m sure he could hustle me into buying one for fifty bucks, I’m that hungry. Spanish music is blasting from a boom box behind me.
There’s so much life happening in Times Square.
Even though a man was killed here last night.
Even though I was told I’m going to die.
But what Death-Cast really wanted was for me to live. I’ve done plenty of that now.
Hopefully there’s more to come.
Scarlett Prince
11:15 a.m. （Mountain Standard Time） Scarlett needs this plane to take off.
It’s bad enough that she’s reliving the trauma of the first flight, but she can put all that behind her as long as she’s in motion, as long as she’s moving forward. Her time with Valentino is already so limited and she’s not just talking about how his End Day is halfway done. Scarlett and Valentino were supposed to see each other through long, full lives, and that’s being robbed from them. Scarlett doesn’t even know what she will do with Valentino when she arrives, what even has to get done besides spending time together, but she simply wants to be in New York figuring that out with him already.
Scarlett cannot believe this day.
Why is the plane still grounded?
What’s going on this time?
Haven’t the pilots been cleared? Or are they not registered for Death-Cast?
She’s about to join the chorus of passengers in bothering the flight attendants for some answers when one of the pilots addresses everyone.
“Attention, passengers. I have some news.”
Deep in her heart, as if Death-Cast is calling, Scarlett knows—she just knows.
Orion
2:37 p.m.
Valentino and I are becoming inseparable, as if we’re the living, breathing versions of our inscribed name back on the Brooklyn Bridge—ValentinOrion, all one word, the O bigger because it belongs to both of us. If I’m not holding his hand because he’s taking pictures of Times Square, I’m touching his shoulder or hooking my finger through his belt loop. It’s like I’ll float away if we lose contact. More like he will, I guess.
We’re holding hands as we walk through Times Square, back toward the area where people were telling their Death-Cast origin stories. Where I first met Valentino. The stage I never got to stand on is gone, but the red glass benches remain as a new fixture, tons of people sitting there.
“Okay, so I was pretty bummed out by not getting to tell my story, but then you walked past me and I was . . . I was into you from the jump.”
“That fast?” Valentino asks.
“That fast. Did you think I was a total weirdo for saying what’s up?”