Written in the Stars

by Rachael Eliker

  “I’m impressed. They mostly got it right,” I interjected.

  Continuing, Warren read: It wasn’t until they were both invited back with fellow cast members for a quick cross-country tour that things were on the mend for the two. They were spotted at posh restaurants and walking back to their hotel together on numerous occasions, giving hope that team EloRren wasn’t a total loss.”

  “EloRren,” I sputtered. “Is that what they’re calling us?”

  “Apparently. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

  “About as much as Norval,” I quipped. Pointing to all the happy pictures of us, from the restaurant where Robby took me in Denver, to the party we’d gone to on a double date, to going back to the hotel after my hives outbreak. “Look at all these photos! Where do you suppose they get them from?”

  Warren shrugged, smiling softly as he ran his fingers across the photos. “I guess that’s why celebrities are always whining about paparazzi. They’re everywhere. Probably couldn’t pick your nose in public without them catching you.”

  I scrunched up my face. “Ew. How about we agree not to do that, whether or not someone might be photographing us.”

  Warren laughed and finished up the brief article. Once we heard Written in the Stars, a song Jackson co-authored with Harper Music’s Ruby Hawkins, it was obvious Stauch and Jackson were back together. The song spoke to our very souls about their lasting love and was a tribute to the fact that anyone can have a second chance at love.

  Fans were rewarded with a confirmation of Stauch and Jackson’s relationship when the two performers kissed on stage in L.A. for the whole world to see. The question now isn’t whether or not their relationship is written in the stars, but rather, where it will take them.

  Warren shut the magazine and rolled it up, bopping me playfully on the nose. “What’d you think of our first big magazine spread as a couple?”

  I tilted my head back and forth. “I think they did us justice, minus all the heartache I caused between our breakup and our second first kiss.”

  Waving his hand at me, Warren dismissed my concern. “It all worked out. Certainly made it interesting though, didn’t it? Thinking I was cheating on you with your sister. I’m surprised you thought that about me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Let’s pretend none of that happened and always tell people we were the happy, lovey-dovey couple they assumed me were.”

  “No,” Warren said. “It’s important to remember the tough times, as well as the good. That’s what makes the good times all that much sweeter.”

  Wrapping my arms around my knees, I tucked my chin into my chest and chuckled. “That’s exactly what Stella once told me.”

  “Two people said it. Must be true.”

  Warren pulled me over to him and wrapped his arms around me, holding me firmly but not so tight it hurt. I could feel his pulse pick up, and his eyes wandered down to my lips.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked teasingly.

  “Remember the first time we went stargazing? We agreed meeting might be by fate, but enduring love came of hard work?”

  “Yeah,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “And?”

  Dipping down to me, Warren pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was pure perfection, slow and drawn out, and never rushed. Shivers rushed through my body, and I couldn’t form a coherent thought if I tried. When he pulled away, it felt like half of me was missing, and I craved more of him.

  “I’m willing to put in the hard work if you are.”

  Catching my breath, I was glad he had his arms steadying me, otherwise, I might have rolled off the truck.

  “If it’s anything like that, I’m all in.”

  Thank You

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  When a Star Falls

  Excerpt from the first in the series

  I could tell before even looking up that our physics substitute was young. It’s all in the voice and as a songwriter and an active performer of my work, I had a thing for voices. His was smooth and rich—not Barry White but deep enough to add some masculinity to his young age. Plus, it didn’t grate on my nerves the way the regular physic professor’s did. Normally, I was tormented by a teacher in his mid-sixties with a heavy Russian accent, who sounded like he was gargling rocks. Every time he balled up a fist and pressed it over his mouth to clear his throat, I reflexively cringed.

  “Alright, class. Let's settle down and get started,” the man called from the front of the room. Though tempted to see who the pleasant baritone belonged to, I didn't bother looking up—it was the only way that as a music major, I could protest taking a class that I was sure I’d never use but for some reason, needed to check off in order to graduate. I’d managed to put it off my entire college career and now, weeks before I received my diploma, I was kicking myself for allowing this horrible class to poison what could have been a perfect end to my schooling career.

  Brushing my hair aside, I tapped my fingers on my forehead and stared at the music composition scattered across my desk. I quietly hummed the melody I’d been scratching on paper the past several days and mouthed the lyrics lightly penciled in beneath the notes. My dad always told everyone composing music came to me as naturally as bees making honey. It had been my comfort through the awkwardness of adolescence, my childhood dog dying, and breakups.

  Okay, so there were only two breakups in my floundering dating career and I saw them coming from a mile away but still, they’d caused enough heartache to draw upon for some pensive, sentimental material. The coffeehouse goers were particularly appreciative of my melancholier stuff.

  But, for some reason, the honey wasn’t flowing today. The melody was there, loud and clear but I was stuck on the chorus lyrics. It was a composition about a girl noticing a boy and instantly knowing he was the one. Maybe I was struggling because it had never happened to me but I’d seen it happen to my sister, several of my high school friends, my college roommate (though it apparently happened to her every other weekend when she was sure she’d met her true love, only to grow tired of them when the newness of the relationship wore off). I wrapped the ends on my sandy blond hair around my index finger and tugged in frustration.

  “As you can see, Dr. Petrov isn't here so I’ll be substituting for him today.”

  I scribbled another line of lyrics below the music notes, then hastily erased it. This piece was going to drive me insane if the muse within wouldn’t speak up a bit.

  “Where's the regular sub? Tony?” some jock shouted from down the row. By the red, black, and white wind suit he wore and the Adidas he had propped up on the seat in front of him, he was obviously a pampered student athlete. I scrunched my nose and tried to figure out which sport he played. For all I knew, he could have been on the bowling team. “You don't look old enough to know what you're talking about.”

  Curiosity got the best of me and I allowed my gaze to wander to the front of the classroom, where I did a double take. Standing behind the desk, the substitute leaned on his fists, his strong forearms bare to the elbow where he’d rolled up his blue shirt—a color that perfectly set off his vibrant azure eyes. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, with a strong jaw, smooth, straight nose and broad shoulders that he carried with perfect posture. Though he’d confined himself behind the desk, his presence seemed to own every inch of the room. Despite myself, the corners of my lips curled into a smile and my heart bumped erratically behind my ribcage. Without warning, lyrics started flowing and I scribbled them down as fast as I could, rewarding myself with occasional peeks at the handsome substitute.

  …my breath is no longer mine…

  …I see in your face a love so fine…

  My hand flew across the paper, writing, erasing, scratching lines through the lyrics that didn’t feel
right.

  …a love like ours could stand the test of time…

  “Ah, yes, Tony,” the man raked his fingers through his wavy, brunette hair. “You see, Tony is my roommate. During a riveting game of Milles Bornes, we decided to make a bit of a wager, the loser having to teach this class.” The man slapped his hands together, sending a puff of chalk dust swirling into the air. “I believe Tony is off playing racquetball this afternoon and I'm sure you can come to your own conclusions about how the game ended for me.” A ripple of laughter spread across the stuffy lecture hall.

  Scrawling out the last of the chorus as fast as I could, I made plans to untangle them later tonight. Cramming my papers together, I scribbled the title Heart on Fire across the top and tucked them beneath my desk so I could let myself enjoy physics class, just this once.

  “I'm actually an aerospace student working on my doctoral degree in materials engineering but I did well enough in introductory physics that I think I won’t lead you astray. And I assure you, sir, age and wisdom do not necessarily go hand in hand here.”

  The jock raised his eyebrow and jabbed a pencil at the sub, asking, “So you aren’t one of those child geniuses?”

  The man stifled a laugh and shook his head. “I'm twenty-three, so sorry to disappoint. No child prodigy here.”

  I hung on his every word, like every other girl in the room. The dreamy sub put his hands on his trim waist and surveyed the students, waiting for any other comments. If I wasn’t mistaken, I met his clear blue eyes and a crooked smile graced his perfect lips. Heat blossomed on my cheeks before it dawned on me he was probably smiling at the trio of giggling sorority girls sitting directly behind me. I slouched down a bit in my chair.

  He cleared his throat and said, “You may call me Collin, if you have any questions. Alright, here we go with reviewing centrifugal force applications.”

  Collin stepped from behind the desk, scribbling across the blackboard in almost illegible handwriting but I was too busy admiring the fit of his jeans from behind to write down any meaningful notes of my own. He turned around to face the class when a few snickers broke out in the direction of the jock and his adoring fans. I looked from them and back to Collin, where it was painfully obvious his pants were unzipped. Like, no-question-what-color-his-boxer-briefs-were wide open. The snorts and chuckles quickly spread and soon, the whole class was trying to suppress their laughter.

  Collin cocked an eyebrow and asked, confused, “I never thought centrifugal forces were that hilarious but if they are, I love a good joke.”

  The laughter died down to a few stutters and hushed voices but no one answered him. I certainly wasn’t going to be the one to point out the delicate situation.

  “Anyone?” Collin questioned, his hands open-palmed to the ceiling.

  A baby-faced freshman with residual high school acne sitting in the front row took the bait. “Your fly's down, man.”

  Without a twinge of embarrassment, Collin chuckled amusedly and turned his back to zip up his fly, then spun around, wagging his finger at the class with a hint of a smirk. “Aristotle said, ‘No great genius has ever existed without some touch of madness.’ Mine happens to manifest itself in my failure to zip my pants, no matter how many times my mother hounded me about it growing up.”

  “I wouldn’t mind being the one to inspect him before he left every morning,” whispered a curvaceous bleached blond behind me. My blush erupted into a raging flame on my skin that made beads of sweat form along my hairline. Nonchalantly, I touched my cheeks to see if my fingertips could gauge just how red they were. I fanned myself casually, trying to pretend like it was all the bodies stuffed into the room making me warm when in reality, I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t been thinking the exact same thing as the blond.

  Collin got back on track, engaging everyone in a passionate lecture about the miracles of physics and why it was so important we all knew. Normally, I might as well been listening to Dr. Petrov scratching his unkempt nails down the board for an hour. It didn’t hurt Collin’s cause either when he turned to write something that my eyes kept flicking to his pants, where he’d wiped chalk handprints distractingly on his hind end.

  “Your professor should be back on Monday,” Collin announced as he tossed the chalk on the desk at the end of period. When everyone groaned, he chuckled and said, “I will take that as a compliment. It was a pleasure but hopefully I won't be losing any more bets.”

  Normally, I shot out of physics class but today, I found myself patiently waiting, tucking my feet under my seat so other students who were in a rush could file out of the row. Cramming my notes into my bag, I stood to leave, taking one more opportunity to look Collin over while he was mobbed by girls, some of whom I’m sure were only taking the opportunity to flirt up close with him. I thought for a second of pretending to be a mush-headed bimbo who didn’t understand physics but since physics and I didn’t get along, the chance of being a mush-headed bimbo was very likely. I’d just have to admire his killer smile from afar.

  The sorority girls descended the steps ahead of me and spoke openly of their lust for Collin, making my ears burn with envy. Even in a world of complete fantasy, I knew full well I'd never be able to compete with girls like them. It wasn’t that I’d call myself homely, I just wasn’t…I don’t know…voluptuous. I’d always been athletic and trim and wore my stick straight hair long, draping past my shoulder blades. If I was feeling particularly fancy, I might put it in a neat ponytail. I’d inherited my mother’s creamy Irish skin and rash of dainty freckles across my nose and cheeks that were so delicate, it looked like they were dabbed on with the tip of a pushpin. I’d always loved the bright blue eyes my dad had given me and usually found myself attracted to guys with like-colored eyes. Something about the piercing, crystalline quality of Collin’s eyes made me forget I’d ever had another crush.

  Reluctantly, I forced myself out the door without looking back. Besides, pining after someone I could never have would make for some great lyrics. Outside, the sun was just warm enough to penetrate the heavy gray clouds that had been looming all week. The leaves on the trees rattled together in the chilly wind, threatening to fall if it blew much harder. Inhaling the crisp air deeply, I held the fresh breath in my lungs for a few extra moments. I loved the tilt of the sun and the incredible fireworks display of leaves during autumn.

  I headed for the bus stop, which was usually crowded with students hurrying home from their final Friday class, but now stood vacant. I’d missed the bus by a minute but I didn’t care. As it drove away, the bus looked like a crammed can of sardines. A little alone time before a rare quiet weekend with no planned gigs—no bars, no cafés, no wedding receptions—sounded splendid. Tucking my hands in my jeans to ward off the cold, I closed my eyes, picturing myself curled up on the couch with a quart of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream all to myself, a lighthearted romantic comedy playing in the background and my fingers running across the strings of my acoustic guitar as I tested out the new song that had nearly burst out of me during physics.

  “Miss? Miss?”

  Throwing my turquoise and emerald scarf my mother had knit for me around my neck, I stepped onto the curve, lost in my own reverie. As the call grew louder, I spun around, unaware anyone had been pursuing me.

  Collin walked with long strides in my direction. “I think you left these under your seat.” He held the bundle of compositions I’d all but forgotten about beneath my desk when he’d stolen my attention.

  About to breathe a sigh of relief, I caught myself. Collin, his eyes fixed on my face, didn't lift his black Chuck Taylor’s high enough and he caught his toe on the curb. Without hesitation, I rushed forward as he fell. If I was being honest with myself, trying to save my precious music from being flung across the hibernating grass like bits of confetti at a New Year’s Eve party was only a fleeting thought when it came down to them or trying to keep Collin from biting the dust.

  I managed to hook my elbows under his armpits but i
n the process, his leg tangled around mine and he threw me off balance in a sort of bizarre, unintended wrestling move. I tried to keep us on our feet but I physically couldn’t compete with the force of his falling body. I hit the muddy ground and groaned as the wind was knocked out of me. Rolling over the grass, our momentum was only stopped as we crashed into the bus stop shelter.

  When I opened my eyes, Collin’s face was hovering only inches away from mine. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, it was a strangely intimate moment, with our mouths being so geographically close that if I’d lifted my head an inch, our lips would have been touching. I could smell a faint mintiness to his breath and I imagined his lips would taste quite delicious.

  “I am so sorry, miss. Are you alright? I’m such a klutz.”

  A nervous, gurgling laughter filled my ears. It took a moment until I realized to my horror, I was the one making the unflattering noise. I tried to clap my hand over my lips to keep from giggling like I was dimwitted but my arms were still pinned under Collin.

  “Hey, get a room,” the jock said as he strolled up to the bus stop, flanked by his guffawing friends. I shot daggers with a ferocious glare and he immediately sealed his mouth shut. Collin only then seemed to realize we now had an audience.

  “Oh, let me help you up,” Collin said as he scrambled to his feet. Before I could dismiss the incident as accidental, he grabbed my hands and yanked me to my feet with enough force to cause whiplash. We scurried over the yard, picking up my music sheets before they were lost to the wind and once Collin had neatly stacked his, he handed over his contribution carefully, like he was carrying my own infant.

  “Thank you,” I was all I managed to squeak out. Silence stunted our conversation for a moment until I blurted, “Thanks for the real-life physics lesson. I think I understand gravity completely now.”