Tracing the Stars

by Amanda Richardson

  Until we didn’t, because I’d gotten sick of second place.

  Because I wanted first place.

  He’s familiar, and I know so much about him, yet this captivating stranger before me is not what I was expecting.

  “Hi!” a chipper voice says from behind us. Leo’s hand flies off of mine, and we both turn to face a stunning blonde. She’s wearing a black blouse, grey slacks, and red stilettos. At least we both seemed dressed to impress. The same couldn’t be said for Leo and his dirty Converse. “I’m Gretchen Thompson. Sorry I’m late.” Her eyes flick between Leo and I. He’s the first to stand, offering a handshake.

  “Nice to meet you, Gretchen,” he says smoothly. He gives her a wide, close-mouthed smile.

  “Hi,” I say faintly, overcome with agitation from Leo’s earlier bodily contact. I can still feel his hand on mine. “I’m Emilia.”

  “It’s great to finally meet you. What are you guys drinking?” She gives me a warm smile and takes a seat next to me.

  “I’m just about to order another gin and tonic.” Or seven. I place my empty glass on the bar, and Leo sets his glass next to mine, taking a seat on the other side of Gretchen.

  “Oooh, that sounds divine after the travel day I’ve had,” Gretchen squeals, taking my hand and squeezing it. I like her. She reminds me a bit of Anastasia—genuine and happy. Honest. Her teeth are straight and white, and she has shoulder-length silvery blonde hair. Her eyes are a pale blue, and her long face is beautiful and strong.

  “We’ll have three gin and tonics, please,” Leo booms to the bartender, giving me a rousing wink before turning to Gretchen. “So, you’re from the University of Colorado in Boulder, right?” he asks her genuinely.

  “Yes.” She smiles brightly and faces me. “You’re affiliated with UC Berkeley?”

  I nod. “I am.”

  “Lucky. I’m jealous of the sunshine.”

  I laugh lightly. “Well, in the Bay Area, our summers are basically winter.”

  Gretchen giggles. When I look over at Leo, he’s watching me with a mystified expression, as if he can’t quite seem to figure me out.

  “Chicago and Antarctica are basically the same in winter,” Leo interjects, reaching for our poured drinks and handing them to us. “I win.”

  Gretchen and I laugh. It suddenly feels easier with her there—the icebreaker we so desperately needed.

  We all clink glasses. I gulp down about half of my drink. I should’ve eaten dinner. The gin is hitting me harder than I thought.

  The three of us continue our small talk.

  More drinks are ordered.

  Somewhere along the way, we order French fries and migrate to the comfier booth in the back of the bar. In a way, I think we’re all digging our feet into the last night in civilization. I know for a fact that scientists work hard and play harder. I’m used to it.

  At one point, a man approaches the table and sits next to me. He knows Leo—they’re good friends—and this makes the stranger all the more interesting to me after my fourth drink. I certainly don’t intend to go back to the stranger’s room with him, but when the bar closes, the four of us make our way upstairs to his loft-style hotel room. Talk of board games and more drinks get passed around, but by the time we enter, I see Gretchen fall into the plush arm chair, asleep within two seconds. Her red stilettos litter the floor in front of her. Leo passes out on the couch, one arm over his eyes. His shoes are still on. That’s all I can process. In my drunken state, I follow the man—Jake, I figure out later—up the stairs to the bedroom. He’s good-looking. A little stout and a little too beefy for me, but he’s certainly not bad to look at. His hair is short, and his smile is perfect. I know I probably shouldn’t be doing this. I’m smart enough to know that this is all because of what tomorrow holds. Jake and I shut the bedroom door behind us. He drags me to the king-sized bed. His hands are cool, and they feel so good against my fiery skin… we barely make it to the bed before our clothes are in a pile on the floor.

  I suppose it would’ve been a shame to waste the dress.

  T W O

  Emilia

  I JOLT AWAKE a couple of hours later. I’m disoriented at first, but then I hear the soft snoring next to me and I groan.

  Fuck.

  To top it off, the room is incomprehensibly dark, so I grope the bedding around me, looking for something, anything, to wear. My hand finds a shirt—Jake’s, I think—and I wrap it around myself before swinging my legs out of the bed. I feel around, careful not to disturb Jake as I circumnavigate the bedroom in total darkness.

  Clutch. Where is my clutch? Where are my clothes? What time is it?

  I trip on the steps, letting out a loud expletive as I stand back up and walk down the carpeted stairs slowly. I stub my toe on the wall and yelp in pain, covering my mouth as I limp towards what I think is the kitchen.

  Water. So thirsty. Must find clutch. Must find clothes! Must get out of—

  “Eep!” I squeal as I run into something warm. Someone warm.

  “What the—” A deep, male voice meets my ears.

  Leo.

  Light floods the room as Leo turns on the light above the oven.

  I’m suddenly exposed, and I pull the button-up shirt down as Leo’s eyes travel over my body, unimpressed. He looks away.

  “S-sorry,” I mutter, taking in his tight boxers. Holy, mother of God. “Did I wake you?” My eyes wander to the couch, where a sofa bed has been pulled out. A pang of guilt travels through me. Gretchen is nowhere to be found.

  He crosses his arms and stares at me. “Which time?”

  My lips part, and I look at the microwave clock. 4:41. “Were there multiple times?” I ask, mimicking him by crossing my arms. It’s cold in here, and this shirt is too thin and too white to bring any attention to my well-endowed chest area.

  “It sure sounded like it.”

  I look down, my head spinning. What happened last night? I stitch the events together in my head. Had Leo been down here the entire time? How much did he hear?

  “I should go,” I say, walking to the sink and grabbing a glass. I’m utterly parched. I guess five gin and tonics and three glasses of wine will do that. I can feel Leo’s prickly stare behind me. As I set the glass down, I turn and lean against the kitchen counter. Leo takes a step closer to me. He really should throw a shirt on. It’s highly distracting. I don’t let myself look downwards. “Did Gretchen go back to her room?” I ask innocuously.

  I can’t believe the night went from innocent to… this. I feel my cheeks warm. What must he think of me? Why did I let this happen? I’ve never had a one-night stand. Not once in my boring, disciplined life. And yet I choose today—my first time meeting Leonardo Kennedy—as the day to sew my wild oats?

  Fool.

  “I guess so,” he says, his voice irked. “I don’t blame her.”

  “You could’ve gone back to your room, too,” I answer defensively, crossing my legs. The movement causes Leo’s eyes to travel down them slowly. By the time his eyes meet mine again, he has a dark, primal look on his face.

  “This is my room,” he says as he gestures to the sofa bed and crosses his arms.

  I push off the counter and walk over to the dining room table. My clutch is lying haphazardly on its side. “Found it,” I mutter to no one in particular. Now I just have to find all of my clothes. That includes my itty, bitty black lace thong. Great.

  “I should get dressed…” I trail off and walk past Leo, my skin shivering as I brush past him. I need to find my clothes and get the hell out of here.

  I make my way up the stairs and enter the dark bedroom. Using my cell phone light, I manage to find my shoes, dress, bra, and my horrendous, nude Spanx. Groaning, I tug the dress on, not bothering to zip it. I place my clutch under my arm and sling my shoe straps over my index finger while I hunt for my underwear.

  Forget the underwear. It’ll be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. I bunch up my bra and Spanx and stuff them in my small, metallic
clutch. At the last minute, I throw Jake’s button-up shirt over my shoulders to cover myself more. The last thing I need is to walk down the halls clad only in last night’s unzipped dress. Jake stirs.

  “Babe,” he mumbles, lifting his head. “Where’re you going?”

  “Hi,” I whisper, jumping up. “I have an early flight to catch. I have to go.”

  “Okay,” Jake mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. “Leave your number if you want.”

  “I will,” I reply.

  He nods and pulls the covers over his face, unable to stay awake any longer.

  I walk into the bathroom and splash my face, tie my hair back, and use the toilet. I button Jake’s shirt over my chest. Once I’m finished, I head downstairs, fully expecting Leo to be asleep on the couch.

  Instead, he’s sitting at the dining room table, staring straight ahead. He’s managed to pull a t-shirt on and put the sofa bed away.

  “I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” I say quickly, wanting to get the hell out of there. Not one to break my word, I walk to the table and find an old receipt to scribble my email address on. I’ll probably never see Jake again, but I don’t want to leave without giving him a way to contact me. This isn’t something I regularly do, so the last thing I want is to leave him hanging.

  “You know, I didn’t really take you for the one-night stand type,” Leo says caustically from his seat a few feet away. He’s watching me with disappointment. His judgement feels horrible.

  “I’m not—I don’t…” I start, trying to think of what to say. “I had too much to drink. I hope we can forget last night and start fresh tomorrow,” I finish, holding my chin up. “This position means a lot to me.”

  Leo moves his hands behind his head. He’s still staring at me. I hesitate by the door for a moment. I want to explain myself further, but I know the more I’ll say, the more incriminating it will seem. I shouldn’t have to explain myself. I wasn’t taking a position as his assistant and vowing my celibacy at the same time. Still, I feel like I need to prove myself. To him of all people.

  “So far, the first impression is not great, Emilia,” Leo utters, making my knees buck.

  “Maybe you should’ve thought that through before you bought Gretchen and I five drinks each,” I snap, holding my clutch in front of my body defensively. The truth is I know what I did was unprofessional. I’ve waited years for his validation, and to be practically throwing it away feels awful. It stings to hear him call me out on it. “I wasn’t exactly in my right mind.”

  “Hope you used protection,” he barks, his voice bitter. He taps his foot on the floor. “Jake loves to sleep around.”

  “I—um—” Truth be told, I can’t remember. I’m not on birth control, but he must’ve had a condom. Yes, he had one. I remember the smell of cherries—it was a flavored condom—and the wrapper was lying on the floor of the bathroom just now. Yes. We used protection. But that’s beside the point. “It’s none of your business,” I hiss.

  Leo laughs, but it’s not a kind laugh. He stands. “Jake is my best friend, and I mean this in the nicest way possible: don’t get too attached.” He walks over to me. I can’t tell if I want him to come closer or not. His eyes lock with mine. I feel my body spark under his stare, and I hate myself for finding him interesting.

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” I say faintly as he takes another step towards me. I feel my breath hitch in my throat. Leo doesn’t say anything for what feels like a full minute.

  “Then I’ll tell him you said goodbye,” Leo says slowly. He gestures as if he were showing me to the door.

  “See you soon.” I turn to leave, shaking as my hand finds the handle.

  I can’t believe I have to spend all winter with him.

  T H R E E

  Leo

  THE LEVEL OF self-loathing I feel as I toss and turn on the couch is unparalleled. The pink sky is beginning to illuminate the room. I’m about to get up and make coffee when I hear Jake coming down the stairs.

  Jake—my best friend of eight years.

  Jake—my best friend of eight years who, just a few hours ago, slept with the woman I’ve held on a pedestal my entire life. The woman I now can’t get out of my damn head.

  And he’s probably not even going to email her.

  “Yo,” he says, walking to the kitchen in nothing but his boxers. “Sorry I took your bed. But, you know.” He laughs.

  I grumble something unintelligible as I stretch my hands above my head and stand. “No worries. I didn’t really sleep anyways.”

  “Ah.” He fills the coffee maker up with water. “Nervous?”

  “About the trip? Nah.”

  The coffee begins to trickle into the pot. Life-giver. My mouth waters.

  “Margaret?” he further probes, causing me to frown. No, not Margaret.

  “Yeah,” I lie.

  Jake lets out a loud breath of air. “You know my opinion about this whole thing. So I won’t reiterate why this opportunity is good for you. There’s a reason I’m a sponsor.”

  I nod. “I know. Thanks for the reminder.” The coffee finishes dripping, sputtering and spitting the last of the elixir. Jake pours out two mugs of coffee, handing one to me. I take a sip. “Have fun last night?” I ask casually.

  Jake laughs. “Yeah. Emilia is… wow…” he mumbles, grinning from ear to ear and then gesturing to his dick with a vulgar motion. I try to ignore the possessiveness coursing through my veins. “Sorry if we woke you,” he adds, winking. “Did she leave her number?”

  His voice is so indifferent, and for a second I actually consider lying. No, sorry man. I could easily throw the napkin away. He wouldn’t care either way. I love the guy, but he’s a real man whore sometimes. It gets old after a while. However, I couldn’t betray him like that.

  “Yeah. On the table.”

  Jake saunters over to the dining room table, frowning when he picks up the receipt. I’d stared at her handwriting for a good thirty seconds immediately after she left. The loopy, cursive writing was just as stuffy as she was. Even though I wanted to despise her—and trust me, I tried—I couldn’t get her out of my mind. “You’ll have to keep tabs on her down there,” he jokes, crumpling the receipt and tossing it into the trashcan in one fell swoop. I know Jake. He was never planning on calling her. My mind roils with fury at his blatant disregard for her. It’s what he did to all of them. He was a fantastic friend, but I hated the way he treated women.

  I manage a small laugh. “You just threw her email address away. If you wanted to keep tabs on her, you should’ve kept it.”

  “Yeah. You’re right.” He walks over to the trashcan and unfolds the receipt. “It’s kind of hot that she’s your assistant, anyways. Maybe I’ll keep her around as a side-fuck when you guys get back. I travel to the Bay Area quite often. Might be nice to have a bed to sleep in, if you know what I mean.”

  I ignore the burning rage I feel at his words.

  He doesn’t mean any harm.

  This is just the way he is, and I have to respect that.

  He continues. “You lucky fuck. You get to stare at those gorgeous tits every day.” Yeah, lucky me. I bite my tongue, the acrid taste of blood filling my mouth. “You know, last night was the first time I ever—”

  “Dude,” I say, a little too loudly. I hold my hand up. “I’m very happy for you and your sexual escapades, but I don’t need to know the details. Please,” I add.

  “Sorry,” he laughs, setting his empty mug down. He gives me an apologetic smile. “I’m going to go shower. What time do we need to leave?”

  “Six-thirty. Flight’s at nine.”

  Jake nods and slaps me on the back. “Be ready at six. We can grab a bite to eat before we leave. On me, of course.”

  “Sure.” I watch him jog up the stairs two at a time.

  When he’s not fucking around, he’s such a good friend. I mean, he’s here purely for me: spent his own money to be here, took three days off of work to see me off, and not only that, he�
�s been such an understanding companion through this whole ordeal with Margaret.

  I shake my head. I must be experiencing some weird leaving-the-country phenomenon—my last night in civilization for six months. It has nothing to do with the actual girl, or the fact that she could drink me under the table but in a proper, refined way, or the way her legs looked in Jake’s shirt. Or the way I felt like I already knew her.

  I guess in a way, I did already know her.

  Groaning, I make myself another cup of coffee to combat the throbbing headache that’s beginning to pound behind my eyes.

  How am I going to spend six months as her supervisor? I try to think of something that annoyed me about her. Maybe the fact that she’s a girl who looks gorgeous and seems fun until she starts talking, and then you realize she’s going to call you out on every single fucking thing. I hate when women do that. And to top it off, she slept with Jake. Of all the people he could entice and seduce, I didn’t expect straight-laced Emilia fucking Harper to fall for it.

  I finish my coffee and try to focus on the task at hand—packing and getting ready for my trip. I have to be in professional mode now. I’m going to have a team to be in charge of, and Emilia or not, I have an important job to do.

  I close my eyes, but all I can think about is the way her eyes slanted up in the corners, and how her sly smile immediately enthralled me. The way she dressed—I was impressed, but not in the way she’d hoped. The way her face fell when I said I wasn’t interested. It wasn’t that I wasn’t interested—it was that I couldn’t be interested, even if I wanted to be interested. I recognized her from the moment I saw her angry face on the other side of the closing elevator door.