We Are the Stars

by Teagan Hunter

  “Sometimes there were glimpses, but not really, no.”

  “Where are we stopped now?”

  “Christmas two years ago.”

  It takes her a second to ask, “What happened?”

  “It was the first time I lost control.” She doesn’t say anything else, waiting for me to elaborate. “I lost my temper, yelled at my mom for the first time ever, and caught a peek at the man hiding inside of me.”

  Her hand snakes around mine, steadying my shaking fingers. My heart hammers in my chest, my lungs expanding with sharp, hesitant breaths.

  Together, we continue tracing my path.

  “I don’t believe for a second you’re anything like him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “You didn’t know him.”

  “I know enough to be certain you’re not capable of that.”

  I pull my hand from her grasp and drop it between us. “You can’t be certain of that.”

  She doesn’t argue.

  She knows I’m right.

  I hate that I’m right.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “You just did.”

  Ignoring me, she continues, “You said you were doing things for your anger. Therapy, I suppose.”

  I’m not, but I don’t correct her. The only thing I do for my anger is hide myself from the world. “Yeah…”

  “What happened on Christmas?”

  “Nothing good.”

  “Wow. Your knack for details is unfathomable.”

  I can’t even crack a grin at her teasing words. Thinking of that Christmas, that last one I had with my mom, hurts. “I was a dick. Ma wanted me to stay home and I told her I had plans with friends. We had just finished dinner and I was ready to get away from it all. Ma, who was already upset from the disastrous morning we’d had, started crying and I…I lost it. I don’t know what came over me. I started screaming at her, at my…at anyone who would listen. That was the first and only time he hit me.”

  “He hit you?” Her voice is quiet, sad.

  “I hit him harder.”

  “Carsen…”

  “After that, I hated him. I hated him with everything inside of me. There wasn’t—”

  I don’t finish the sentence because there’s now a pair of lips attached to mine.

  At first, I’m confused. Then I’m kissing her back.

  It’s feather-light, romantic even. The way it feels? Weird, yet normal—almost too normal, like this is something I’ve done before, something I could do again.

  It feels good. Too good.

  Suddenly she pulls back. Her hand covers her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “Oh my god,” she says breathily. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s—”

  “Holy crap. Shit. Fuck! Shit!” She jumps up, pats the ground for I don’t know what since she didn’t bring anything out here with her, mutters more curse words, and literally runs away.

  What the fuck?

  7

  Elliott

  What the fuck?

  What did I do?

  I kissed Carsen Wheatley.

  I kissed Carsen Wheatley.

  On purpose.

  Why? Have I been possessed? Do I need to grab the salt and holy water?

  I quietly rush up the short walkway and insert my key into the lock. I sneak into the dark house, sure to keep my footsteps light so I don’t wake anyone.

  I tiptoe into my room, falling into bed without even changing into my pajamas. Hell, I barely toe my shoes off. I curl into a ball and hide under my blankets. Hide from my thoughts. Hide from the fact that I kissed Carsen Wheatley.

  I press my fingers to my lips; they’re tingling still. I can feel his lips pressed against mine.

  He kissed me back.

  But only because I kissed him first.

  And I don’t know what to do with that.

  ***

  It’s been nearly twelve hours since I kissed Carsen, and I haven’t thought about it until this very second.

  To be fair, I only just woke up.

  I can’t find my phone, which means I was correct in thinking I dropped it out of my pocket last night and I now need to go back to the cemetery to retrieve it.

  Awesome.

  The doorbell rings and a shuffle of feet echoes in the house.

  Who in the hell could possibly be at someone’s house at this hour in the god—

  “Elliott! It’s for you!”

  For me? But who is it? Jase? I mean, there’s no one else it could be, right?

  I freeze.

  No.

  No way.

  “I’m sending him up!”

  What! “I need a second! I’m not decent!”

  I race to the bathroom and can hear casual forced conversation downstairs as I hurry to brush my teeth and comb down my hair, which is a mess. I straighten out my shirt that’s all bunched up as I yell out, “Okay!” and rush back to my bedroom. I sling myself onto my bed and wait.

  The footsteps sound like bricks suddenly grew feet and decided to drag themselves across the house. I can almost hear the suspenseful music playing in the background. Whoever my guest is, they are taking their sweet ass time getting up here.

  Finally, my guest appears.

  And it’s exactly who I hoped it wouldn’t be.

  Carsen strolls into the room like he’s been here a thousand times before, like he belongs. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing at the edge of my bed.

  I can’t read him. I hate that I can’t read him.

  He doesn’t look angry, but he doesn’t look anything else either. He’s just…here.

  I wish he were easier to read, more predictable, but since the moment I met him, I’ve had no idea what to expect. Sometimes he’s flirty, others he’s so full of anger and gloom it’s hard to be around him.

  Leaning over until he can reach the table on the opposite side of my bed, his cheek rests against mine.

  “You kissed me.”

  He doesn’t move as he drops my phone heavily onto the table. He doesn’t move as my breath gets caught in my throat, nor does he move even an inch backward as my entire body begins to thrum with I don’t know what but it feels damn good.

  After what seems like hours, or maybe even days, I feel his stubble rub against my face as he pulls away.

  Finally, I can breathe again. I’m still too stunned to form a response, so I watch as he aimlessly wanders around my bedroom.

  He goes to my bookshelf first, scrolling his way through the numerous titles I have haphazardly stacked together. Every few seconds he shakes his head in a negative or positive, either approving or disapproving of the books. Once he’s gone through each title, he moves on to the various black and white photographs I have hanging on the wall next to the shelf—photographs I took.

  But he doesn’t know that.

  He spends extra time on the one of Lake Q at night. It’s lit up bright, and none of that was my doing. It was the stars.

  My room is small, so it doesn’t take him long to make it to my desk. He pulls out the lone chair in the room, swings it around, and sits so he’s facing me.

  “What are you doing here?” I finally manage to say.

  “Returning your phone. You dropped it last night when you ran away. After you kissed me.”

  Flirty Carsen it is.

  I hop up from my bed and rush to close my door. “Could you keep your voice down, please?”

  “Is someone embarrassed she kissed me?” He says the last two words louder than the rest, and I march back to my bed and throw a pillow at him. He dodges it and raises a brow in my direction as I climb back into my nest of blankets. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “No, I’m not embarrassed, I’m just not into my family hearing about my sex life.”

  “Sex life? We have a sex life? How did I not know about this? Is it bad? Is that why I know nothing? Or is it so good that it’s too euphoric for me to come down from and I get so lost in the bliss
that I forget it happens?”

  “I hate you.”

  “Liar.”

  “Why are you here, Carsen?”

  He points toward my phone. “I told you already, I brought your phone back for you. You’re welcome.”

  “Why are you still here, Carsen?”

  He shrugs. “Because you haven’t kicked me out yet.” I open my mouth to ask him to leave as he says, “And because you kissed me.”

  “Ugh.” I groan. “That again?”

  “Yes, that again. Why? Because everything was going smooth and then wham! Your lips were on mine. Was it something I said? Did? How did we go from talking about a violent Christmas to kissing? I need answers, Elliott. I spent the entire night running it through my head and I can’t think of anything.”

  His words grow more and more clipped as he goes on.

  “The entire night.”

  “Yes. The whole thing.”

  “You didn’t sleep?”

  “Not a wink.”

  “Because I kissed you.”

  “Because you kissed me.”

  “Oh,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

  “For?”

  “Kissing you?”

  “You’re sorry for kissing me.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yes.”

  Carsen clenches his jaw, and I can see the muscles jumping from my perch on the bed.

  “So.” A single word, cold enough to make me shiver. “You sympathy kissed me.”

  “Empathy.”

  “What?”

  “It wasn’t a sympathy kiss, Carsen. It was an empathy kiss. I felt your pain from that night and it… Well, it…took over. I needed that kiss.”

  His gray eyes darken. “Needed it?”

  “Yes.”

  “That…” He tilts his head. “Is such bullshit. You didn’t need to kiss me. You—”

  “I wanted to,” I interject before his temper can rise. “I wanted to kiss you, okay? Stop getting upset about it.”

  “Then why did you run?” Oddly enough, the hushed tone he asks this in frightens me more than any angered one he’s ever taken. “Elliott,” he presses.

  “I didn’t run. Well, I mean I technically ran, but I didn’t mean to.”

  “Sure…”

  “I freaked, okay? I attacked you with my lips and I had no idea if you were going to freak out or push me away or run or maybe even scream. I had no clue what was going to happen! By the time it registered what had happened, I was so scared out of my mind and confused that I ran, and I realize now that wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had because now you’re—”

  Then his lips are on mine.

  He pulls back, silently asking if it’s okay. I answer him with a kiss of my own.

  The same tingle from last night is instant, only this time it starts in my toes. It works its way up my body as Carsen pushes me back on my bed, his lips moving against mine the entire time. As his tongue plays a song against mine, the tingle settles low in my stomach. I feel a spark as he maneuvers us until I’m on my back and he’s lying on top of me. Another flash of heat passes between my legs once he begins to kiss down my chin, the column of my throat, and back up to my lips.

  I have never felt anything so good in my life—and I’m no virgin.

  Our tongues tangle together again and our hips begin a rhythm of their own. I slowly bring my hands up, placing them on his arms. I can feel the muscles straining as he carefully holds himself on top of me. He swivels his hips and I instantly grab hold of his head, pulling him closer. He moans into my mouth and I feel it in every inch of my body.

  It’s as he described before: euphoric. It’s so much that it’s almost too much. The way his body feels against mine is…it’s too good. Too perfect. Too…everything.

  Yet it’s not enough.

  I urge him closer and wrap my legs around him, his hard length finding the right spot between my legs. He picks up his movements, our kiss going from languid to rushed. We’re frantically pulling at one another. His shirt flies off and a hand snakes inside my top. I gasp as he slides it inside my bra and wraps it around my breast, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure.

  What the hell am I doing?

  “Carsen…” I manage to mutter.

  “Yeah?”

  “We have to stop.”

  “We do.”

  “But I don’t want to.”

  “I don’t either.”

  My eyes dart to his chest and I notice the tattoo there. “What’s that mean?”

  He tilts my chin up so I’m looking into his gray eyes again. They’re like they were yesterday at lunch—clear. He’s not burdened with hatred and suffering, not in this moment at least. He’s free of it, and damn if I don’t want to keep him that way.

  “Everything happens for a reason.” His words are slow and steady.

  I swallow thickly. “It’s written in the stars.”

  He nods.

  And then we’re lost in another kiss.

  It feels like it happens over hours, not minutes, because it’s that good, that right.

  No. I need to stop this. It can’t feel right and I can’t keep kissing him.

  A loud knock on the door startles us apart. I rush to straighten my top and my hair as Carsen frantically searches for his shirt, throws it on, and tosses my blanket over his lap.

  “You up, Smelliott?”

  “Smelliott?” Carsen mouths, laughing.

  I whack him with a pillow as I call out, “Come in, Fish!”

  My brother pushes the door open, his mouth falling open as well once he spots Carsen on the bed with me. His eyes dart to the mess behind me and then back and forth between me and my bed partner.

  He’s not stupid; he knows what was happening.

  “I guess something’s up.”

  Laughter flies out of me while Carsen’s face turns bright red, even his ears.

  “That was so inappropriate. I think I love your brother,” he says.

  Fish’s eyes fall to slits as he takes in Carsen’s words. Then, he grins, and I know all the reservations he had about Carsen go out the window. Fish is easy to read. He can feel the vibes too.

  “Fish,” my brother says, walking forward with his hand outstretched.

  The two shake hands. “Good to meet you. I’m Carsen, but I assume you already know who I am. Most people do.”

  “May have heard a rumor or two.”

  The body language between them is relaxed, which surprises me since Carsen is usually so uptight, especially when people bring up what happened.

  “What’d you need, Fish?”

  “Uh, it’s not important.”

  “Fish…”

  He sighs and rubs at the back of his neck. “I wanted to see if you’d walk to the store with me later.”

  “Of course I will.”

  “Cool. I’ll let you get back to…well, each other.”

  I cackle again as Carsen shakes his head, muttering, “Coolest brother ever.”

  “Keep it in your pants, Wheatley!” Fish says through the closed door.

  “I think he likes you,” I say.

  “What’s with walking to the market? Why not drive?”

  “Fish doesn’t drive anymore.”

  Carsen nods, understanding immediately. “Trauma. I can understand that one.”

  The door flies open again, only this time it’s my dad.

  “I heard something about pants coming off?” His brow is raised in a challenging manner—at least it would seem so to anyone who doesn’t know him.

  “You just missed it, Dad. Carsen has a great ass, too.”

  “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

  “I hear the life insurance policy you have is killer.”

  “This is the weirdest family ever. I love it,” Carsen comments.

  My dad walks farther into the room and shakes my guest’s hand in a similar manner to my brother. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Carsen.”

  “I’v
e heard a lot about you, sir.”

  “Your mom…” Dad’s eyes water with unshed tears, his voice heavy with emotion. “She was amazing. The brightest star in the sky.”

  “Funny, she always said the same about you.”

  Dad smiles, and it’s a private smile to share only with Carsen. “Well, I’ll leave you kids alone. Just wanted to come in and make sure no one was getting pregnant.”

  “I’m on the pill,” Carsen jokes.

  “Damn, boy. You remind me so much of her.”

  “I’d like to talk with you about her sometime—if that’s okay, I mean.”

  “I have a free afternoon.”

  Carsen turns to me. “Do you…”

  “Not at all,” I tell him. He’s lit up with excitement, and I’ll tell him anything, send him anywhere if it means he’ll be this happy. “Go.”

  He looks back at Dad, then at me.

  “I’ll be downstairs,” Dad says as he exits the room, giving us a minute alone.

  We don’t immediately talk, because how are we supposed to even begin explaining what just happened? Between talking about last night to the making out to the interruptions…where do we begin?

  “So…that was…”

  “Yeah. It was.”

  “I guess we’re even on the random kissing thing now,” I offer.

  “I suppose so.” He points toward the door. “I’m going to go…”

  “Yeah. Go.”

  “Is this going to make things weird between us now?”

  “No,” I rush out. “Why would it?”

  “It usually does.”

  “It won’t. Promise.”

  “Okay. Good. So, I’ll see you at work.”

  “Yep. I’ll be there.”

  Then he’s gone, and I’m left sitting here with a million questions.

  8

  Elliott

  It changed everything.

  I’ve spoken three phrases aloud to Carsen in the last three weeks.

  Excuse me—seven times.

  Sounds good—four times.

  Roger that—eleven times.

  That’s it.

  But texting? Whole different story.

  Every night around 10 PM, I receive a text.

  The night we kissed in my room, it was:

  Carsen: Scale of 1-10, how was your day?