Chasing the Sun

by Melanie Hooyenga

  “You look like you’re planning on some serious star-gazing,” she says, looking at my chair.

  The corner of my mouth lifts. “I don’t mess around.”

  “You better not get up or it might not be here when you get back.” Her light brown eyes dance in the fading light, a smile playing on her lips.

  When we were texting over the last couple weeks, I wondered what she looked like, but her personality is what drew me to her. Now, sitting so close we could touch, I can’t believe my luck that I’m physically attracted to her too.

  “What?” she asks, touching her chin. “Is there something on my face?”

  I want to lean forward and press my lips where her fingers rest. A lump catches in my throat. I clear it but my voice comes out raspy. “I was just thinking how much better this is than texting.”

  Her gaze drops as a dimple appears in her cheek. My hand lifts before I can think about what I’m doing and grazes the indent. She inhales sharply. When her eyes meet mine, she smirks. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “It was easier not having to look at you.” My brows furrow and she blushes.

  I pull the hood of my sweatshirt low over my face. “This better?”

  Her hand grabs mine and pulls the hood away. “That’s not what I meant. Well, it’s sort of what I meant. It’s just…” Her cheeks are so red she looks sunburned. It’s adorable, and it makes my pulse race. “Now you’re real, you know?”

  My fingers lace through hers. “Yeah. I do.”

  She opens her mouth to say something else but Ms. Kim shouts out.

  “Food’s ready. Turkey dogs are on the red plate.”

  Kids scramble to the picnic table decked out with hot dogs, fruit, and bags of chips.

  “You a turkey or mystery meat kinda girl?” I ask.

  “Turkey. I don’t care about the tryptophan at night.”

  Neither of us moves to get up. I’ve never been a rush-to-the-front-of-the-line kind of guy, and it seems she’s content to let the others go before us. When most everyone has their food, we get up to fill our plates. I reach for the turkey dogs first and try to hand one to her, but she’s reaching for a bun and doesn’t notice, leaving me with a dog dangling in midair.

  Kit snorts behind me but I ignore him.

  Sage finally looks up and gasps. “Oh, is that for me?”

  A hundred inappropriate jokes spring to mind, but I would never say them in front of her.

  “Yeah, he’s trying to give you his wiener,” Kit says over my shoulder.

  So much for being a gentleman. I roll my eyes again—something that seems to happen a lot around Kit—hoping to distance myself from him. We look at the bun in her hand. It needs to be opened, and there’s no way to do this without Kit making another comment.

  “Go on, man. Open her bun and slide it in.”

  “Jesus Christ, Kit!” I whisper-shout, embarrassment and frustration tightening my shoulders. “Can you back off?”

  He holds up his hands and laughs. “Sorry. Trying to lighten the mood.”

  “Well, stop.”

  Sage scoops fruit onto her plate and grabs a bag of chips, then hurries to her chair. She and Naomi lean their heads together after she sits down and they giggle. Hopefully that means she’s not upset. She’s known Kit for a long time so she’s probably used to him.

  Maybe it’s me who needs to relax.

  We settle in to eat, and once all the plates are tossed in the fire, Ms. Kim hands out sticks for marshmallows. “There’s enough for everyone to have two s’mores each night,” she says. She hands out roasting sticks while the bag of marshmallows passes around the circle, followed by chocolate bars and a box of graham crackers.

  Kit told me he’s terrified of Ms. Kim’s senior physics class. Apparently she runs a tight ship, as Dad would say, and is the smartest teacher in the school. It’s the class I’m looking forward to the most.

  “This is my favorite part of camping,” Sage says.

  “The sugar coma?” I ask, sliding two marshmallows onto my stick.

  “Nah, the roasting of the marshmallows.” She gingerly places her single marshmallow on her stick and inspects it closely. “As a scientist, I’d think you appreciate the fine balance between browning, burning, and melting.”

  “I always let them catch on fire.”

  She presses a hand to her chest and gasps. “Sacrilege!”

  I lower my gaze, feeling suddenly shy. “I can’t help it. When it’s engulfed in flames it reminds me of an asteroid.” The first time Dad took me camping, he told stories of asteroids and meteors and exploding stars, and he went through an entire bag of marshmallows for the visuals. The way the blue flame wraps around the stars will always remind me of him.

  Her hand rests on my arm. “That’s sweet.”

  “It’s dorky.”

  She smirks. “That too. But it’s totally your brand.”

  I cock my head.

  “You know. Who you are.” She lowers her stick toward the flame without letting it get too close. “Seeing outer space in the world right here is kind of how I assume you think.”

  I dip my stick into the fire, the two stars still shining bright. “I never thought about it that way, but I guess you’re right.” The flames tease my stick until, in a burst of light, they’re consumed in an explosion of space dust.

  She gasps, and my heart feels a little fuller.

  The others around the fire laugh as they assemble their s’mores. A couple marshmallows are sacrificed to the fire gods—too much fire and the stars will explode before you can eat them—but I pull mine from the flames before they slip off the stick. A black crust hides all evidence of the gooey center, and I smile.

  “You’re really gonna eat that?” she asks.

  I narrow my eyes at her lightly toasted marshmallow. “You may as well have just pulled one from the bag and slapped it on a cracker.”

  “It’s perfect this way. Not too messy, but hot enough to melt the chocolate.”

  “It’s not a s’more if you don’t risk third-degree burns in your mouth.”

  “I’ll have to take your word on that.” She bites the corner of her s’more and closes her eyes. “Soooooo goooooood.” Her tongue slips over her lower lip to catch a crumb and something stirs inside me. She opens her eyes and catches me staring and bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, stop staring at me and eat.”

  I do as she says, holding back a moan when the mix of chocolate and marshmallow hits my tongue. The first time I burned my marshmallow, I cried. But then Dad told me the asteroid story and I’ve never eaten them another way.

  “A couple things for tomorrow’s trip to Portland,” Mr. Mauro says. “We’ll be leaving here after breakfast—no later than ten.” He points at a couple guys sitting beyond the circle. “So no sleeping in until noon. We’re driving to a park and ride, and from there we’ll take the MAX into the city. We don’t expect everyone to stay together as a group, so please make sure that you have my cell number. The rendezvous point will be back at the cars. But most importantly,” he holds up his hands for emphasis. “Please do not go off on your own. At all. Ever.” He scans the circle, his eyes locking on each of us until we nod.

  For a moment, the heavy sadness that’s been with me since the day Dad collapsed on the trail wraps itself around me. My gaze bounces over the others’ faces, their smiles glowing in the campfire like they’ve never known loss or suffering, and I feel more alone than I have in months. Like I don’t belong here, and that I might never belong anywhere again.

  Then Sage’s hand slips into mine and the feeling around my heart changes to hope.

  19

  Sage

  Neb squeezes my hand and I lean my head against the back of the chair. The last streaks of sun color the sky, promising a blanket of stars when it’s gone. The conversations around the fire meld together and my eyes drift shut. It’s been a long time since I’ve spent this much time outside, and the fresh air lulls me to a state of semi-consciousness. The onl
y thing anchoring me to this moment is the feel of Neb’s warm hand on mine.

  I like that he’s content to just be. To not try to impress me with stories or go on and on just to hear himself talk. Even after two years together, Paxton never got over the need to one-up everyone—including me. His stories became more embellished the more times he told them, but I knew better than to call him out on it. So instead I remained quiet and let him carry the conversation. At the time, I thought that was love. That tempering a part of yourself for the person you’re with was how relationships worked. But I’m finally realizing that nothing about my relationship with Paxton was based on love. It was all about his need to control me and show the world what a man he was.

  “You okay?” Neb whispers.

  I open my eyes and roll my head to the side to look at him. “Yeah, why?”

  He glances at our interlaced hands. “You’ve got a death grip on my hand.”

  My fingers instinctively flex, loosening my grasp, and I grimace. “Sorry. My mind got away from me for a minute.”

  “I hope I didn’t cause that.”

  My hair falls in my face as I shake my head. “Just thinking about earlier. I hate that he still gets a reaction out of me.”

  He nods, his lips forming a tight line.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean for him to keep coming up.”

  “It’s not your fault he showed up here.” His gaze is open, honest, and it feels like he’s inviting me to trust him.

  But can I? The past has proven that I’m a terrible judge of character, and all I know of Neb is what he’s told me in texts. On the surface he seems like an amazing guy, but so did Pax. Who’s to say he won’t change once I let my guard down?

  Neb rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  It’s one thing for Pax to complicate things in my head. I don’t need him getting between me and Neb. “You don’t want to hear about my ex.”

  “I know first date protocol says not to, but this isn’t a typical first date.”

  My belly does a lazy flip. Is this really a date? I rub my other hand over my jeans, searching for the briefest way to explain. “He was really controlling. Looking back, I feel stupid for staying with him, but I turned into a different person. Someone I still don’t recognize.” My heart races and the familiar tightness in my chest makes it hard to breathe. I mask the struggle for air by yawning. “It hasn’t been the greatest summer.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” The pressure of his hand on mine is light, calming. The opposite of Pax.

  I shake my head, trying to shake off Paxton. “Just know that I’m trying to put him behind me, but it’s not always easy. And having his sister here isn’t helping.”

  “I’m sorry you went through that.” He turns my hand and laces his fingers through mine. “I’m not gonna let your ex or his sister or anyone else get in the way of us getting to know each other better.”

  Well he certainly knows the right thing to say. A blush warms my skin and I’m grateful for the fading daylight. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  His eyes dip to my mouth and an adorable smile softens his face. There’s a hesitation to him that builds the anticipation of what he might say, but all he says is, “Nope.” He can’t know that his simple answer says more than a long-winded excuse about Tara.

  As if on cue, her eyes flick toward us, an uneasy expression on her face. An expression I’ve seen on myself far too many times.

  But Neb doesn’t notice. His warm gaze travels slowly from my eyes over my body and back up again until his intense eyes lock on mine. Instead of making my skin crawl like when guys have done that in the hall at school—or the panic that would fill me that Pax would somehow think I was leading them on—every atom within me feels pulled toward him. My emotions ricochet inside me and I take a deep breath to calm myself. I’m allowed to feel this way. Three Good Things About Making the First Move. No one’s stopping me from climbing on his lap right now if that’s what I want to do.

  Well, the teachers might have something to say. And Tara is sitting right there.

  Tara, who obviously likes Neb, even if he doesn’t like her.

  Maybe it’s time for me to be bolder. To stop letting other people dictate what happens to me. I reach for the scruff at the edge of his jaw and he presses his face into my palm.

  “Get a room,” Naomi whispers from my other side. Neb and I spring apart, and I feel like flames are shooting out of the top of my head. She snickers and I smack her arm.

  “Rude!” I give her my evilest glare, which lasts all of three seconds before I crack up.

  She raises her eyebrows and nods at my hand in Neb’s.

  I raise my brows back and try to waggle them, but my eyebrows refuse to cooperate and instead I make googly eyes at her.

  Theo’s on the other side of Naomi, and he leans over her to give me a concerned look. “You okay, Sage? Are you having a stroke?”

  Neb tugs on my hand and I turn to look at him, quickly composing my traitorous face. “Ignore them,” I say, but a giggle escapes me.

  “I feel like I’m missing something,” he says.

  Naomi leans on my chair and laughs. “We were saying that someone needs to tell a ghost story!”

  I whirl on her. “We were?” Me and scary stories do not mix, and Naomi knows this. The first time we had a sleepover she surprised me with a slasher flick and I spent an hour hiding in the bathroom with the water running to drown out the sounds of the movie. Every now and then she tries to get me to watch “a tame scary movie,” but I always refuse. Even watching a few minutes burns the images in my brain and they haunt me at the worst times. Like when I’m walking to my tent in the dark.

  Someone on the other side of the fire claps. “Yes! Scary stories!”

  This time my glare is real. “Why? Why do you hate me?”

  She shows off by quirking one brow—something I definitely cannot do—and smiles. “Perhaps you can excuse yourself.”

  “Why would I do that?” My whisper is loud enough that several people look my way. Including Ariana, who watches me for a moment before typing on her phone.

  “Scary! Stories! Scary! Stories!” Theo claps with each word until the others join in. Their laughter makes me feel like a complete loser. Everyone else loves the thrill of being scared, but I just can’t.

  Naomi smiles and nods past me at Neb.

  He’s watching the fire with a panicked look on his face.

  The same panic I feel.

  I touch his arm. “I hate to be a party pooper, but me and scary stories do not agree.”

  It takes a moment for him to look at me. His face relaxes but his eyes seem uncertain. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. I can’t… I’m gonna… go back to my tent.” I don’t want to leave, but I absolutely cannot be here when my classmates try to out-scare each other.

  He springs to his feet. “I’ll walk you.”

  I rise more slowly. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you miss the excitement.”

  His lips purse and he shrugs, and like a switch flips, he smiles down at me, making me forget anything scary—real or make-believe. “I’m not really into being scared for fun.”

  “Okay, then.”

  We grab our chairs and I try not to think about two particular sets of eyes on my back as we leave.

  And arrive at my tent thirty seconds later. I dump my chair on the ground and look up at him. “That was a really short walk.”

  He laughs, then slips his fingers through mine. “Come on.” He leads me to his tent and my heart thumps in my chest. After two years with Pax, I’m not inexperienced, but he’s the only person I’ve done anything with and I’m not sure if I’m ready to jump into another guy’s sleeping bag. We pause on the little rug in front of the entrance.

  “Hang on.” He unzips it the opening, but before I can come up with a graceful way to turn him down, he tosses the chair inside and closes the tent. “Want
to go for an actual walk?”

  “Yes,” I say far more enthusiastically than he was probably expecting.

  We follow the narrow road away from the campfire and its nightmare-inducing stories. Every lot in the campground is full—some with simple tents like ours and others with monstrous motorhomes that seem nice enough to live in year-round—and most have people sitting around fires. Some wave as we pass, but I’m too focused on the boy next to me to pay them much attention.

  “Are you excited for the eclipse?” Neb asks.

  “I don’t know. All the hype seems a bit shady.”

  He laughs. “Nice.”

  “It’s a way bigger deal for you, but I’m glad Naomi convinced me to come.” A flutter of panic rises from deep inside me but I push it away. Yes, there will be a lot of people watching the eclipse, but it won’t be like a concert where everyone’s pushing to get to the front. They’ll all be focused on the sky. And I’ll be safe with my friends.

  He presses his free hand against his chest. “And here I thought I was the one who convinced you.”

  I shuffle closer to him so our arms press together. “That may have had something to do with it too. I just hope I don’t embarrass you.”

  He stops walking and grabs my other hand so we’re facing each other. “Sage, how would you embarrass me?”

  By having this conversation? I shrug. “I don’t know. Saying something stupid. Getting blinded by the sun.”

  “There isn’t a wrong way to watch the eclipse. Unless you stare at the sun. And I won’t let you do that.”

  Thoughts of how he could protect my eyes—mainly by having his face pressed to mine—make me all fluttery and I take a quick breath. He must read my mind because he releases one of my hands to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. His fingers weave through my hair so he’s cradling my head and I lean into his caress.

  “I’m glad I’ll get to watch it with you,” I whisper. His lips part but he doesn’t speak. Is he going to kiss me? It feels like he’s going to kiss me and I’m finally ready and no one’s watching us and—