“Oh my God,” she repeated.
His smile was lit by the wash of blue coming up from the water. Tiny trails of luminescence flowed down his hair and across the planes of his chest.
“It’s all stars,” she said, breathless.
“Millions and millions of stars.” He lifted his hand out of the water, and the cosmos poured from his palm.
Because he got it. He understood.
She launched herself at him, and he caught her, their legs tangling, every kick sending blooming clouds of light sweeping out beneath the surface. He trailed his fingers down her cheek. “You’re glowing.”
“So are you.” Just the faintest traces of it when they were still, so she wouldn’t be still. She kissed him hard, licking wonder from his lips and running her hands through his hair. Setting off showers of phosphorescent sparks. She broke the kiss off all at once. “I’m going under again.”
In the end, they dove together, hands entwined, and she opened her eyes underwater to watch the way he moved. The trails of light bloomed out between them.
As soon as they surfaced, she wanted to drop down again. To look at the world from a silent depth. But he pulled her into his arms and kicked his legs higher. She floated supported by him. And she looked up.
The air left her lungs in a rush.
With his mouth against her ear, his breath a warm wash, he said, “I thought the stars at Arecibo were the most beautiful I’d ever seen.”
But these were better. Here on this tiny island, twenty minutes’ ride from the closest town. Floating on a moonless night.
And all at once, it was like his touch was the only thing grounding her. The only thing keeping her from spinning off into some infinity where the sky and the water met, and everything was stars.
Her voice caught, and nothing came out.
“I’m so glad I got to see this here.” He kissed her neck. “With you.”
Just like that, the vastness of it all came crashing down. The boat lurched into focus, the murmurs of amazement from all the others seeping in. She shivered in his arms. “Me too,” she managed, because she was. It would be something to hold on to. Later.
She was still out there, still swimming on a glowing sea.
But already, it felt like a memory.
The three biggest things Adam wanted after they got back to the hotel were a shower, a burger, and at least an hour alone with Jo, preferably in that order. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who was starving, though, because as soon as they were off the bus, Jared was leading the way to the bar next door.
Adam looked to Jo. “Food?”
“All the food,” she agreed, following the herd. Their hands stretched out between them when he hung back. She glanced over her shoulder at him, brow quizzical.
He tugged her toward him. “You okay?”
It’d been dark enough in the bus that he couldn’t exactly say she’d been avoiding his gaze, but she definitely hadn’t been entirely with him. She’d been so joyful while she’d been swimming, lit up like the waters they’d floated on. But sitting in the boat after, listening to the tour guide map out constellations they both knew by heart, she’d withdrawn in a way that hadn’t sat right with him. Still didn’t.
“Fine,” she said.
Yeah, right. “We can go somewhere else.” He swept his hand toward the row of hotels and restaurants lining the strip. “Just the two of us, if you want.”
She shook her head. “Let’s stick with everybody else.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Of course I am.” She leaned in and planted a quick kiss to his lips. Stepping away, she met his gaze. “I promise. Everything’s okay.”
He still didn’t believe it, but how much of a hypocrite would he be to call her on it? He wasn’t “fine” either, but at least he knew what was bothering him. And not knowing what was going on in her head was half of his problem.
“Okay.” He squeezed her hand, and this time when she went to join their group, he took the lead. The things they had to say to each other could wait, at least long enough to get some grub.
In back of the bar, the gang had managed to shove a few tables together, and they were squeezed in around them, two seats left conveniently free for Adam and Jo to slip into. He draped his arm over the back of Jo’s chair and grabbed a menu to share. While they looked it over, a waitress in cutoffs and a bikini top came by to take their orders.
Jared called for a round of shots, and Adam gave him a look.
“It’s our last time out,” Jared said. “Live a little.”
Jo seemed game enough. “I’m in.”
They put in the rest of their orders. A couple of minutes later, eight tiny glasses appeared, all full of amber liquid. Adam took a whiff of his and sucked in a whistle. They weren’t messing around. He lifted it up, and the others did the same. Carol asked, “So what are we drinking to?”
Everyone looked around. When no one spoke, Adam raised his shot higher. His throat bobbed. “To the best summer ever.”
It was a cheesy, easy thing to say. The kind of sappy crap that came with their time running out.
But fuck him if there, in that moment, it didn’t feel true.
They all met in the middle to clink their glasses. He tipped the liquor to his mouth and gulped it down, then shook his head against the burn.
Quiet descended over the table like a realization. This was really it. Their last hurrah.
Adam’s stomach sank.
“Kind of hard to believe, huh?” Carol said. “Feels like we just got here, and in a few days we’ll all be home.”
“For certain definitions of it.” Jo rolled her empty glass between her fingers, and Adam rubbed her shoulder.
A few of the others chimed in with where they were heading next, how they were spending the remaining week or two before the semester began.
Jared set his shot glass down with a thunk. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t fucking wait.”
“Excuse you?” It made something hot like betrayal rise up in Adam’s throat at the idea that anyone could be eager to go.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a good time and all. Maybe not the ‘best summer ever,’”—he made little finger quotes—“but sure, good. But I want to go home. I’m gonna get there and drive my car anywhere I want and eat like a million cheeseburgers and hit on waitresses who understand what I’m saying because they speak freaking English. Then I’m gonna crank my AC until I blow a fuse. Home is awesome, and I can’t wait to go back.”
“I’ll miss you, too, asshole,” Kim said, jabbing him with her elbow. Her tone was mostly playful. Mostly.
“Of course I’ll miss you guys,” Jared said it to the table as a whole. “But don’t you miss your friends back home?”
“Sure,” Adam started. “But…” His words trailed off. Because Adam did miss his parents and his brothers and everyone. But not as much as he was going to miss…
Jo stared at the center of the table like she could burn a hole in the wood with her eyes.
Adam’s hunger disappeared, his interest in anything except that time alone with her vanishing. He put his hand over hers, wanting to say something. Drag her away somewhere.
Then Kim said, “Well, you won’t have to miss me for long. When I come visit you—”
And Jared laughed. Right out loud. In her face.
Jesus Christ.
“What the hell is so funny?”
Jared didn’t seem to understand what he’d just stepped in. “You’re not coming to visit me.” He said it like it was a fact, something he’d already decided.
“Like hell I’m not.”
Finally, Jared sat up a little straighter. “Babe. We said from the beginning.”
“I know what the hell we said. But that was before . . . before . . .” Kim sputtered. Her face went pale.
“Babe? Kim?”
Kim tossed her napkin down and stalked out of the restaurant.
The table went silent aga
in for all of half a second. Adam could have smacked himself. Or better yet, Jared. “Go after her, you idiot.”
“But my burger’s still coming.”
“I’ll go.” Jo of all people stood up.
Adam tried not to look too surprised. “Jo?”
She touched his shoulder. “Have them pack my stuff if I’m not back, okay?”
He wanted to question her again. But instead he nodded. “Okay.”
What the hell was Jo’s life?
She’d come to this island a veritable fortress of solitude, and now here she was, walking away from her overly concerned boyfriend to chase after a girl who, improbably enough, had actually become her friend. Not that it was entirely altruistic. Jared and Kim and Adam and she were the only ones who’d paired off this summer. They were the only ones really going through this kind of thing right now. The chance to talk about it with someone who understood… Well, that was why normal people had friends, wasn’t it?
By the time Jo chased her down, Kim had crossed the street. She was bent half over, her arms braced on the railing looking out over the beach below. Jo slowed. “Hey.”
Kim flinched, glancing over at her. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah. That’s what I say when I stalk away from all of my friends, too.”
Kim snorted at that, facing the water again. Jo didn’t offer anything else. She crossed to stand beside her, turning to lean her ass against the railing. A couple of quiet moments passed.
It was weird to see Kim like this. Jo and Adam’s relationship had been fraught with all this turmoil, while things between Jared and Kim had seemed so much simpler, at least from the outside.
“That time at the grocery store.” Jo paused, staring across the street at the restaurant where everybody else was probably sitting around talking about them. “You made it sound like it was casual.”
Kim chuckled sourly. “It was. We said it at the outset. We were just two people having a good time, no strings.” She finally looked over at Jo again. “He was such a dick when I met him, you know?”
“He still kind of is.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know him. There’s a lot more underneath. God.” She pushed her hair back from her face. “It was one of the best parts. He was a jerk, so staying casual was easy. No way I could get invested. Stupid me.”
Sounded nice. From their very first not-quite-kiss, Jo and Adam had been in way too deep. “What changed?”
“Everything. He’s just—he’s not like that when it’s the two of us. Not anymore.”
Jo chewed on her lip ring for a minute. “You really think you could make it work? After we leave?”
“Hell if I know. But the idea of not at least trying…”
“But if you try and it all falls apart…” Because this was the thing that had been killing her. “Wouldn’t it be better, in a way? Ending it before it goes to shit?”
Having something to hang on to. One good thing, one good memory. Didn’t Jo deserve that?
“But can you imagine it?” Kim raised her gaze toward the sky. “Never talking to him again? Not even a chance of getting to kiss him again?”
No. Jo couldn’t.
Kim smiled sadly. “Me neither.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Yell at him, mostly. He’ll either come to see it my way or he won’t.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then I guess it’ll have ended and gone to shit, too.”
Jo’s heart squeezed.
Across the street, a figure emerged from the restaurant. Jo squinted, but there wasn’t all that much question as to who it was; she’d recognize those shoulders anywhere. She waved at Adam, and he headed over, a plastic bag in his hand.
“You have no idea how you look at him, do you?”
Jo jerked her head to Kim. “I—What?”
But Kim just patted her shoulder. “Good luck.”
“Do I need it?”
“Tonight? I’m pretty sure we both do.” Kim turned to Adam as he approached. “Is the asshole still in there?”
“Yup.”
“Well, here goes nothing.” She smiled at Jo. “Thanks, by the way. For coming after me.”
“No problem.” Jo had a feeling she was the one who should be thanking her.
With that, Kim took off, leaving Jo and Adam alone. “She okay?” he asked.
“She will be.”
Leaning against the railing beside her, he held up the bag. “I had them box up both our stuff.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know, but…” His mouth did something complicated. “I was kind of ready to be away from them all.”
And a part of her wanted to run. She’d been avoiding this conversation more or less since they’d started whatever it was they were doing together. Avoiding thinking about it and avoiding giving Adam opportunities to bring it up. But they were running out of time, and Kim had all but started it for them anyway.
There really wasn’t any more holding back.
“Okay,” she said.
When he held out his hand, she took it. And with a sinking feeling, she let him lead the way.
Chapter Twenty-Three
They ate their dinners on a bench by the side of the road, knees touching. Barely speaking. It all tasted like ash to Jo. When they were done, Adam balled up their trash and threw it away.
They had to be careful, finding their way down to the beach in the darkness, but Adam’s footing was sure, and with him guiding them along, Jo could trust in where she was placing her steps, too. They left their shoes behind and walked barefoot onto the sand. Any fears she would’ve had about cutting her toes died unspoken.
It wasn’t until they hit the water’s edge that Adam cleared his throat. “We should probably talk.” His face lit by the palest sliver of moon, he gave her a sad half-smile. “Before one of us ends up screaming at the other or stalking out of a restaurant.”
It forced a weird rumble of laughter out of her. “Like that would even hit the top ten for scenes we’ve made this summer.”
“You’re not wrong.” His chuckle echoed hers. “I don’t know, though. If we really worked at it, we could definitely crack top fifteen.”
“If we worked at it.”
He led them in a path parallel to the shore, the tide just licking at their heels, the wet sand firm beneath their steps. “We have had a time of it, haven’t we?”
And hell, this already sounded like goodbye. It made something skittery and painful twist inside her chest. But she’d always known this was how this would have to go.
At her silence, he tightened his grip on her hand. “This time next week, I’ll be at my parents’ place in Florida. Hang out there for a little while, then head up to Philly before the semester starts.”
“And I’ll be in my apartment in Chicago.” The “alone” didn’t really need to be said.
Before him, she’d always been alone.
“Philadelphia and Chicago are really far away from each other.”
“Yeah.” The twisting feeling deepened, sharp enough to steal her breath. “They are.”
“Jo.” He said her name like he meant it, like it was the most important syllable in the universe, and shit, fuck, she couldn’t do this.
“Don’t.”
He stopped, and she turned, put her back to him. Pulled her hand free from his to cover her face, as if that could hide her. As if that could make any of this go away.
His palms settled on her shoulders. They should’ve been reassuring, but they felt like even more weight driving her down into the sand. “Jo.” He drew closer to her, his chest a broad expanse of heat against her spine, and they were alone on this deserted beach at night, but it was as if the walls were closing in. He sucked in a breath that sounded like it choked him as much as hers did to her. “Please.”
“I can’t.” She shook her head. It was too much. To have had this and to have to give it up.
“Please. This summer i
s almost over, and… God, when I came here, I never expected to find someone like you. I wasn’t looking for it. Didn’t want it, even.”
Then maybe that would make it easier for him to let her go.
“But there you were,” he said, and nothing in his tone said he was anywhere close to letting go. “Angry and full of spit and fire, and I wanted you. More than I’d ever wanted anyone. And that was before I got to know you. You didn’t take any bullshit. You told me the truth to my face, and it was like you opened my eyes. You changed me.”
Except she hadn’t. He was still the same strong, amazing, giving person he’d been before he’d turned her whole life upside down.
“Not as much as you changed me,” she said.
“I’m not ready for it to end.”
And then there they were. The words she’d known would ruin everything.
She dropped her hands from her face, her mouth crumpling. When her voice came to her, it was scarcely a breath. Scarcely anything. “But it has to.”
The world around them seemed to go very, very still.
Then he was turning her, whirling her around to face him, and his face—those eyes. They radiated a hurt that reached straight into her chest.
And yet beneath that, beneath that glaze of pain, there was a fierceness. “If you don’t want more from me, just say the word.” He paused, giving her the time to tell him she didn’t want to spend the next few days, weeks, hell, the rest of her life with him.
There were a lot of things she could do. Lying to him right now, though? That wasn’t one of them.
Except honesty was cruel, because the hope that sparked in his gaze at her silence was even worse.
“Jo.” The fingers around her arms dug in. “We can do this. I’ll do anything, I swear…”
Of course.
Of course that was what he would say.
All the parts of her that had unfurled this summer began to slowly, achingly close. “I know.” A shudder coursed through her, and she shook herself free of his grip. Took a single, terrible step back. “And that’s the problem.”
“What—” He looked like she’d slapped him.
“You think I don’t remember what you were like? When we first got here? How many times did you check your phone a day?”
When The Stars Align Page 26
