When The Stars Align

by Jeanette Grey

  Two years now, Jo had lived in her apartment alone. Hell, the vast majority of her life she’d spent pretty much all by herself in her father’s house.

  Now she’d been back for scarcely a week, and she was ready to go out of her mind.

  She tossed her magazine to the ground and dropped her head into her hands. So much of this summer she’d longed for one goddamn minute of silence. Now she had days of it, stretched out on end, and it was the last thing on earth she wanted.

  She missed the crowd of people at that awful cafeteria. They might not have all liked her at first—maybe not ever—but they’d always welcomed her and let her sit with them. She missed the smiles of the observatory staff. She missed having someone on the couch in the living room at nearly any hour of the day. Hell, she missed Carol in the bed on the other side of the room. She missed noise and activity and things to do.

  She missed Adam. But at least that particular ache she’d seen coming.

  Growling beneath her breath, she scrubbed at her eyes. She’d given him so much grief about not being able to let go, and yet here she was, no better than he had been. Sitting up straighter, she lowered her hands to her lap, then cursed aloud. Unconsciously, her gaze had flickered straight to the darkened alert light on her phone. Just like his had every three freaking seconds those first weeks they’d spent at the observatory.

  Shit. She was worse than him.

  At least he’d had some hope that his girlfriend might get in touch with him. Nearly a week, and she’d gotten the odd text from Carol and Kim, but from Adam, there had been only silence. And it was her own damn fault. She’d been the one to end it. Worse, that last night, when he’d looked like he wanted to try and talk it out again, she’d shut him down, and so they’d never had the conversation about staying in touch. About ever hearing a thing from each other at all.

  Well, fuck this. Pocketing her phone, she hauled herself off the couch. Beyond her window, darkness had fallen. It was only a Wednesday night, but in a city like Chicago that didn’t matter. By the time she was ready and could get downtown, things would just be getting fired up.

  She crossed her shoebox of an apartment and threw her closet doors open. Her club clothes were in the back. She grabbed out an old standard that had worked well enough the last time she’d gotten an itch. Before Adam and before everything else this summer had changed.

  It’d be great. Precisely the thing she needed to move past this. She’d drink and dance and find somebody to take home. It’d be just like it had always been, a release and an escape and—

  Empty.

  She stopped, her hands at the nape of her neck, set to unclasp the necklace Adam had given her. The one she hadn’t taken off except to shower. Her fingers fumbled, again and again, and she closed her eyes, breath stuttering. The room around her swam.

  By the time it righted itself, she’d fallen to sit in a heap beside her bed, her spine propped up against the frame. Her dress lay beside her, and she pressed a palm to the center of her chest, right above her breasts. Stroked her thumb across the stars Adam had given her and shuddered.

  She didn’t want to do this. At all.

  But she had to do something.

  The next morning, she suited up in the closest thing to fitness clothes she had and dug up a ratty old pair of sneakers she’d never gotten around to throwing away. She thought of Adam, slipping into the house after a morning lap of the telescope dish, covered in sweat, skin gleaming, smile exhausted and energized and gorgeous.

  Running. It seemed worth a shot.

  Running sucked.

  Which left her with only one thing. Heaving for breath, chest and legs aching, she collapsed onto her couch.

  One thing she was willing to consider, in any case.

  With one hand on the door, Jo braced herself. This wasn’t settling for less, and it wasn’t kowtowing to the patriarchy. It wasn’t anything she’d always assumed it would be. She wasn’t lowering herself. Hell, for all she knew, she was about to get laughed in the face.

  She put that thought straight out of her mind. She might deserve it, but she had to go into this hoping for the best. After all, you don’t ask, you don’t get. She nodded to herself one final time, then pushed through the door.

  The soles of her boots made dim thudding noises on the tile of the hallway. More than one face looked up from a computer or a lab bench as she passed, curious expressions peering out at her through open doors, and for a moment, the déjà vu of it shivered through her spine. The last time she’d gone out on a limb like this, beating down Dr. Galloway’s door, it had bitten her on her ass.

  Finally, she arrived at the office she’d been looking for. Rehearsing the words she’d been psyching herself up to say all morning, she raised her hand and knocked.

  Ever so slowly, the chair behind the desk swiveled around. The woman who faced Jo was in her late forties, her short, dark hair going gray, the lines around her eyes and mouth just beginning to stand out. She raised one eyebrow.

  Jo straightened her posture and lifted her chin. “Dr. Jung. I’m—”

  “Jo Kramer. Yes.” Dr. Jung nodded. “How can I help you?”

  Well, that was either a really good sign or a really bad one, that her reputation preceded her. “I know it’s an awkward time.” A week and a half before the start of the semester. A week and a half early. Or maybe, three years too late.

  “Not at all. Have a seat.”

  Following direction, Jo took the chair beside Professor Jung’s desk and folded herself into it.

  Three years ago, Jo had gone to the head of the department and requested a research position, only to have the smug bastard roll his eyes. He’d had no interest in an overly ambitious freshman who would probably end up switching to the humanities anyway. Maybe Jung’ll be able to find something for you to do, he’d told her, already turning away.

  He’d looked at her like she was a maggot, or worse, like what she was. A girl. Rather than go crawling to the lone woman in the department, Jo’d gone looking elsewhere. She’d focused on her coursework and left her research goals for summer programs. She didn’t need any second-rate castoffs. She didn’t need anyone.

  She’d made a mistake.

  This time, instead of going in guns blazing, pretending she knew everything and deserved whatever she demanded, she forced herself to be calm. It didn’t come easy, and she almost laughed, envisioning Adam in front of her, asking if she wanted to role-play this out.

  He would’ve helped her so much, if he’d been there.

  But he’d already helped her—already changed her enough. She could do this herself now. She took a deep breath and asked, “I was wondering if you had any work an undergrad might be able to help out with.”

  And Dr. Jung smiled.

  Two hours later, Jo left her office with her arms full of background reading. They’d talked about Jo’s experience from this past summer and the summers before it. Her interests and her history. Her ambitions to go to graduate school next year. About why she hadn’t come to Dr. Jung as a freshman. Jo had answered her honestly and noncombatively.

  At the end of it, Dr. Jung had offered her a project of her own.

  Heading to the “L,” Jo felt like she had her feet under her for the first time since the van had driven her away. Away from Adam and her friends and the first place where she’d ever really belonged.

  But maybe, just maybe, she could find a place here.

  She kept that thought right up until the moment she strode through her apartment door. She closed it behind her and set her collection of articles and books and papers down, and—

  And the same four walls that had been haunting her for the past week still surrounded her. Still threatened to close in. And it wasn’t fair. She’d made a positive change in her life, goddammit all. Maybe even made a real connection with another human being.

  She wasn’t still supposed to feel like this. Alone.

  Sinking to her haunches against the wall, she tipped her
head back and gazed at the ceiling. Her ribs squeezed in and her throat thickened. Because who the hell did she think she was kidding? She knew exactly what she wanted to do.

  But it was a disaster waiting to happen. The worst idea in the world.

  Reaching her hand into her pocket, she closed her fingers around her phone. She tugged it out and stared at the alert light that had yet to blink, the message that hadn’t ever come through.

  She’d always thought, eventually, Adam would be the one who’d want to talk to her.

  She turned on the screen and pulled up his contact. And stared.

  “Hey. Bro.”

  Adam darted his gaze away from the screen, mashing buttons on the controller as he did. No way that zombie was taking him out because he wasn’t paying attention. Not this time. “Yeah?”

  “Mom’s heading to the store. Wants to know if you need anything.”

  “Think we’re out of chips.” Okay, he knew they were out of chips. He’d finished them off himself at one in the morning the night before.

  “That it?”

  “That’s all I can think of.” On the screen, his character’s hatchet swung wildly, and he groaned as the bad guy snuck in a good hit.

  His brother said something else, but it probably wasn’t important, considering he only said it once. By the time Adam thought to look up again, he was gone.

  Huh. Maybe he was a little overinvolved.

  Spending the last week at his parents’ house had been just the break he’d needed. He was getting a little too old for this shit, but there was nothing like plopping down on your mom’s couch and eating all her food and playing video games all day. He was surrounded by people who loved him unconditionally and unreservedly. There wasn’t any tiptoeing around anybody’s emotions or constantly having to hold back what he was feeling. Everybody talked about normal stuff like TV shows and politics, not scientific journal articles. He didn’t have to work or arrange meals or anything.

  It was…

  Actually starting to get kind of boring.

  But that was okay. He’d be heading up to Philly soon to start the semester. It’d be good to see his friends again. He had an ass kicker of a course load ahead of him, one that would keep him plenty busy and distracted. Plus he had to take the GREs and start figuring out where he was applying for grad school next year. He’d hoped maybe he’d be figuring that out with Jo, but… he’d decide on a list of schools on his own. It’d be fun. Exciting.

  He covered the twinge the thought evoked with a particularly vicious sideswipe of his ax, and zombie gore splattered the screen in a satisfying arc. “Yeah. Take that.” He braced his elbows on his knees, sending his character full-tilt toward the end of the corridor and the big boss fight and—

  Where it sat on the coffee table, his phone buzzed. Through sheer force of will, he ignored it, attention firmly on the screen. Just because he’d let himself get maudlin there for half a second between kills didn’t mean he had to turn back into the sap Jo had basically accused him of being. She hadn’t been in touch with him, not even once since they’d left the tropics. He could still hear the pity in her voice. He held on too long. He settled. Accepted scraps of affection.

  Well, he’d shown her. This whole week, he’d scarcely looked at his silent phone. He hadn’t sent her any pathetic texts or left any embarrassing messages. It’d killed him, but he’d respected her wishes. To the best of his ability, he’d moved on. Taken up more healthy pursuits than moping.

  Like playing video games for fifteen hours straight. In his boxers.

  He furrowed his brow in confusion when his phone kept buzzing. Not a text then—this was an actual call. Which was weird. Despite his misgivings, he tore his gaze from the TV to steal a quick peek at the vibrating screen.

  Jo. Holy shit, it was Jo.

  He stabbed at the button to pause the game, then muttered, “Fuck it,” when it didn’t work. Tossing the controller aside, he dove for his phone, managing to pick it up before it stopped ringing, sliding his thumb across the screen to take the call. Around him, his character made a horrible noise as he got torn in half by a zombie horde. Tucking his phone between his shoulder and his cheek, Adam plucked the remote off the ground and turned the TV off. Everything went blessedly silent.

  Except the breath in his ear. The voice. “Adam?”

  “Jo.” His whole body seemed to sag in relief. “Hi.”

  “Hey.” She sounded like she was smiling, and God, he missed her. All that stuff about moving on had been a joke. Deflating, he flopped against the couch and slung his arm across his eyes.

  “How are you?”

  “Okay. I guess.” The tension in her voice made him pause.

  “Just okay?”

  “I don’t know.” She hesitated, and it had him sitting up straighter. What if something was wrong, or she was in trouble? Chicago was a hell of a long ways away, but he could be on a plane or in his car in an hour if she needed him. If she wanted him. “I guess I just…” When she trailed off again, he held his breath. “I missed you.”

  Jesus. Those were the best words he’d heard in… maybe ever. He curled in closer around his phone. His voice went soft and raw. “I miss you, too.”

  On the other end of the line she laughed, but it was grating. Harsh. “Guess I got used to having someone around to talk to.”

  His chest panged. “Just someone?”

  He’d have liked to think he’d been a little bit more than that.

  But instead of rising to the bait or giving him shit, she sounded smaller. “This is hard for me, okay?”

  And that didn’t make him feel like crap. “I know, baby. I know.”

  One quick beat of silence, and then, “Baby?”

  She would call him out on that. He shrugged.

  “I’m trying it out.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t tell him not to call her that. Even if they weren’t… what they’d been to each other. Not anymore.

  He let out a long, slow breath. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  And then, to his surprise, she did. Like she’d been bursting with it, she let the story of her last week pour out. Everything she’d done and everywhere she’d been. The words sped up as she went, like she was remembering how to use her voice again, and God, had she talked to anyone since she’d gotten home?

  When she got to the part about going clubbing, his heart sank. Sure, they’d agreed to move on, but he hadn’t been ready for that. If he wanted to hear any more from her, though, he had to be cool about it. He couldn’t freak out.

  “Except I couldn’t,” she said.

  And the heavy waters that had closed over his heart parted. “You—”

  “The idea of picking up someone else. It just… I couldn’t.”

  Oh. Oh. “Jo…”

  “What are we doing?”

  Hell if he knew. “Right now?” He closed his eyes and tried so damn hard not to fuck this up. “Being friends?”

  Another huff of pained laughter came through the speaker. “Being friends sucks.”

  “It’s better than some of the alternatives.”

  “And a hell of a lot worse than some of the others.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  It was what she’d chosen, though. Not that he was enough of a dick to remind her of that.

  For a long moment, they were quiet. When they spoke again, it was quieter. She told him about her new research project and how she’d handled it. “That’s great,” he said.

  She hummed. “And what about you?”

  It was sad, the prospect of telling her he’d spent the whole week in his underwear killing bad guys on a screen. But as he shrugged and started to relate it anyway, she encouraged him. Asked him questions, getting him to ramble about his family and his parents’ house and this swamp of a town where they lived.

  “I can’t believe we never talked about any of this. Before,” he said.

  “Guess we were busy with other things. But I was always interested,
you know.”

  He hadn’t doubted it. Still, it was nice to have her ask these questions. Show an interest in his life.

  Being just friends sucked, but maybe…

  Maybe it was a gateway to being a hell of a lot more than they had been before.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “What’s got you smiling so much?”

  Adam looked up from his phone, squinting against the sunlight at the face in silhouette above him. His grin shifted, becoming less the soft, private one he reserved for conversations with Jo and more the public one that everybody else got to see. Including his ex-girlfriend.

  Funny how much could change in a couple of months.

  “Nothing much,” he lied. Looking down again, he finished typing out his reply and blanked the screen of his phone before tucking it in his pocket.

  Dropping her bag, Shannon plunked herself beside him. He was camped out on a bench, killing time until his next class and soaking up the sunshine while it lasted. The sky shone a crisp, clear blue, the leaves barely starting to hint at changing colors. Autumn would be descending for real, soon. He shook his head at himself. At the time, he’d never thought he’d miss Puerto Rico’s heat, and now here he was, longing for it. Among other things.

  Shannon nudged his foot with hers. “Was wondering when I’d run into you.”

  He’d only been back for a week and a half, and most of that had been spent settling into his apartment and getting ready for classes to start. Still, any normal semester, he would’ve seen her by now. He hadn’t exactly been avoiding her, but he hadn’t been seeking her out, either. Not the way he would’ve in the past.

  He shrugged. “Been busy, I guess.”

  “Busy with that girl you’re texting?”

  He stretched his legs out in front of him and rested his arms on the back of the bench. “Who says it’s a girl?”

  “Please.”

  “What?”

  “I know that look.” She stopped, and there was a sudden heaviness to the air.

  She knew that look because he used to wear it around her. Because of her.

  He cleared his throat. “Maybe it’s a girl,” he conceded.