Tracing the Stars

by Amanda Richardson

  “Oh my god,” I say, shoveling more into my mouth. I don’t even notice when Leo slides into the seat next to me. His hair is ruffled haphazardly, and he looks tired. He looks tired because of me. Because he made me five batches of lasagna.

  I look at him sheepishly, but he ignores my signals. I cough and smile. “This is excellent lasagna.” Leo doesn’t take the bait. I frown and continue to eat.

  Damien slides into the seat next to Gretchen. “Hey,” he says, kissing her on the cheek.

  “Hey! Where were you all day?” she asks, smiling.

  He looks at my plate. “Made some damn fine lasagna, if I do say so myself.”

  Gretchen’s mouth opens slightly, and her eyes dart from Leo to Damien.

  “That was so very nice of you,” she coos, taking both hands and cupping his face before kissing him.

  “It wasn’t my idea. I was happy to help, but it was all Leo.”

  At this, Gretchen gives me a knowing smile, and I look away. “Is that so? Leo, you must really care about your assistant’s wellbeing.”

  I almost choke on my food. I glare at Gretchen as I compose myself. Leo begins speaking.

  “So, I did some research today on the telescope. I’m really interested in the capabilities it has on dark matter, which, Gretchen, should interest you since you wrote your thesis on black holes,” Leo finishes, changing the subject. Why is he so uncomfortable? He should be proud that he’s actually capable of being a gentleman; it’s just hidden beneath the surface. God forbid anyone find out he’s actually a good guy.

  Luckily, this effectively changes the direction of the conversation, and we spend the rest of the meal in deep astronomical discussion. Even Damien chimes in a few times, surprising us all with his knowledge of distant galaxies. I keep mostly quiet, my eyes skimming between Damien, Gretchen, and sometimes Leo.

  I can’t really read him yet. On the one hand, he’s infuriatingly smug and conceited. He’s comfortable vocalizing sexual innuendos, and berates me whenever he gets the chance. And yet… he spent his first full day at the station cooking for me. I remember the look he gave me when I came downstairs wearing just Jake’s t-shirt. My face and neck flush.

  The conversation continues, and a few minutes later when I look back at Leo, he’s watching me curiously. As Gretchen and Damien commence a full-on make out session, his eyes never leave me, even when I look away for a few seconds.

  “We’re going back,” Gretchen says, her lips cherry red from where Damien was biting them. It’s not an invitation, and I know immediately that she’s doing this on purpose. I wave her away weakly, avoiding Leo’s gaze as I see them saunter out of the cafeteria from my peripheral.

  “Well, I should get back to my room,” I say, standing. Only then do I look at him. Instantly, I wish I hadn’t looked. He’s got that smoldering look on his face again.

  “I’ll walk you back.” So fucking serious. Why is he so serious all the time?

  I shake my head. “That’s okay. But thank you for the offer. And the lasagna.” I turn around, tray in hand, before he can respond.

  As I walk out of the cafeteria, I feel his presence behind me. I glance over my shoulder when I get to the hallway, and he’s scowling with his hands jammed into his pants’ pockets. “Don’t flatter yourself, Emilia. I’m headed back to my room, too.”

  It’s a seven-minute walk back to my room, and when I get to my door, I hear Leo stop at his door. The silence is deafening.

  “Why’d you cook me five batches of lasagna?” I ask, so quietly that I’m not sure he heard me.

  But he did, because he sighs. “I didn’t want you to starve. I don’t hate you that much,” he smirks, giving me a heart-stopping, cocky smile.

  “Oh. So you only hate me this much?” I joke, holding my fingers together in a pinched movement.

  He walks over and nudges my fingers wider with his thumb. I cease breathing. “Maybe this much.” His thumb then brushes my palm as he watches me with a pained expression. The roughness of his calloused thumb causes an explosion of nerves in my hand, down my arm, into the pit of my stomach…

  “Leo,” I blurt out, my whispered voice desperate.

  One touch. One touch and he made me want to forget why I hated him so much.

  “You despise me, Emilia,” he murmurs, his eyes on my lips.

  I nod vehemently. Something about him—his dark pupils, the way he smells… it overwhelms me and clouds my senses. “I do.”

  “I’m going to come inside,” he whispers in my ear. “And we’re going to play a game where we tell each other awful things about ourselves.”

  I pull away and balk. “Why would w—”

  “Please,” he sighs, stepping back and running his hands through his short hair. “I need some more ammunition, Emilia. Otherwise…” He blows out a loud breath of air.

  Oh.

  Oh.

  “Okay,” I agree, my voice unsteady.

  Had I been reading him wrong all along? Was it possible that I’d been driving him just as crazy as he’d been driving me? I open the door. He follows me inside noiselessly, looking around and then taking a seat on the couch.

  “I’ll be right back.” I walk into my bathroom and close the door. Once it clicks, I slide down against it and put my face in my shaking hands.

  What the hell is happening? Why does Leo have this effect on me? Is it because he was off limits the night I met him? Because he’s off limits now, with the fraternization clause? Because I’ve never broken a single rule in my entire life? I groan into my hands. My head is telling me no—this is so foolish—this can only end badly. I’m smarter than this.

  I splash ice cold water on my face. It washes away every doubt or hesitation. Friends. We can be friends, right? It’s a familiar notion. I can do familiar. I am good with familiar. It’s these feelings… the shortness of breath when he’s around, the trembling… I don’t really understand what’s happening.

  But, friends? I can do that.

  I step out of the bathroom and sit down in the chair across from him in the living room. If I smell him, it will make things worse.

  “I once cheated on a chemistry exam in college,” I mutter, twisting my fingers and cracking my knuckles mindlessly. “I punished myself for months for that. I was eighteen when I lost my virginity. I had it all planned out. Candles, Elton John, the whole shebang. Who does that?” I look up at him through my lashes. He’s leaning forward on his hands, watching me absorbedly. I have to keep going or I’ll lose the courage currently flaming through me. “I sent hate mail to my dad until I was eighteen,” I say quietly. “I have no idea if he ever got it, but I hope he did. I can eat half a dozen donuts in one sitting. I accidentally killed our childhood hamster when I was eight, because I forgot to feed it for a week. I never take chances, like ever, and the word spontaneity is not in my vocabulary. When I’m in a relationship, I’m extremely clingy and jealous. And fiercely bossy. Like, you don’t ever want to date me. And…” I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “It really bothers me that you didn’t take your shoes off when you came inside.” I muster a glance at Leo and he’s smiling widely. “Why are you smiling?” I ask, placing my hands on my cheeks. “I literally just told you the worst things about me—my deepest, darkest secrets.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but none of those were that bad. You’re even annoying me with the perfection of your flaws, Emilia.” He watches me with careful concern. “Was the planning worth it?” he asks gently. I know what he’s referring to—the night I lost my virginity to Hamilton Garfunkel. And yes, that was his real name. All I can say to that is… it was Berkeley.

  I shrug. “It was just okay. But it’s not like I’ve ever had a phenomenal sexual experience to compare it to.” I grind my teeth together and look down. Stupid time to bring that up, wiseass.

  Leo chuckles. “Is that so?” I look up at him and nod weakly. He leans forward and stares at me. “Interesting.” His eyes are twinkling.

  I hate him, I
hate him, I… hate…

  Even I can’t convince myself anymore. What is wrong with me?

  “I always come to a complete stop at stop signs. I don’t have a fun bone in my body,” I divulge, trying to find something I can use against the nagging feelings I’m experiencing. “I’ve never really been to a party, and I spent most of college holed up in my room, studying. The debt I have from grab school equates to a small fortune, by the way, and I’ve never missed a payment.”

  Leo chuckles. “Tell me something bad, Emilia. These are all good traits.”

  I look down. “I suppose you could consider them good, but what kind of person follows the rules one hundred percent of the time?”

  He watches me with amusement. “Come on. There must be something…”

  I smile. “I don’t recycle as much as I should, because I’m too lazy to rinse things out. I have a bad habit of not washing my face or brushing my teeth before bed when I drink.”

  I pause and catch Leo’s eye. “Is that all?” he muses, grinning.

  “Your turn,” I mutter. He begins immediately.

  “I’m very selfish, and I tend to think inwardly instead of thinking about other people. When Margaret left me, she’d been cheating on me for months right under my nose. I was too self-absorbed to notice. I have a sick obsession with video games, specifically Grand Theft Auto, and some days I spend hours playing without doing anything but eating day-old pizza and drinking beer. Sometimes I pee into the empty beer bottles so I don’t have to get up to use the restroom,” he confesses, wincing. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told that to.”

  This isn’t working. Why isn’t this working? I’m finding his quirks endearing. Minus the beer bottles. That’s just barbaric. Then again, he ate spaghetti off of the floor, so he’s already a heathen in my eyes. He continues.

  “I’m egotistical and I save every penny that I make. I once dipped into it to buy my motorcycle—which I ride donning full, protective gear, mind you. Because of my savings, I could retire tomorrow and be completely financially stable until I turned one-hundred.” He sighs and frowns. “I haven’t traveled as much as I’d like, and because I work so much, I have almost zero social life. I sometimes wish I could spend my money on experiences. I feel like I’m wasting away, and one day, I’ll be an old man with a hefty bank account and no life experience to speak of.”

  His words wreck me, only because I can totally relate. He continues.

  “I’m often irritable, especially when people don’t follow the rules. I’m grossly under qualified—and I’m nowhere near as innovative as Galileo or Sagan, though people often compare me to them. I’m narcissistic and sometimes narrow-minded. I’ve never gotten a speeding ticket,” he adds, wincing. “Never drove fast enough to get one,” he utters.

  I watch him for a few seconds. “Why didn’t I know you were married?”

  He shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know. I think it’s because my mom always hoped we’d end up together, and she knew Margaret wouldn’t last. Who do you think begged me to invite you here this winter? Sure, I was doing your mom a favor, but my own mother would’ve killed me had I refused to hire you.”

  My body goes still and my mouth drops open. “The truth comes out,” I murmur. No wonder my mother and Anastasia pushed him so hard. Meddlers. All of them. I fight to contain my smirk. “I had no idea your mom was such a proponent of…” I trail off, looking down at the beige carpet.

  Leo leans back into the couch, practically covering the entire length and width of the love seat with his height and the span of his arms and legs.

  “Why’d you stop calling me, Emilia?” he asks gently.

  My eyes dart around the room, and I begin to twirl my hair. “I was… you were… I was holding myself back,” I answer softly. “I was both interested and annoyed with you, constantly. Whenever I got a science test back, I thought to myself, I wonder if Leo got a higher score? It was crippling, trying to outshine you. Once I stopped caring about you… it was easier just to be myself. I often wondered about you, but not knowing what you were up to helped me. I was confused because I… because I liked you. And I’d never met you, so I thought it was a silly crush.”

  When I sneak a look at Leo, he looks devastated. “Was it a silly crush?” he asks, his voice intimate.

  I shrug. “It went away when we stopped talking.”

  It was true. Those last few phone calls had been… they’d been everything for me. But at the time, I was in high school and Leo was in college, and he lived 1,615 miles away.

  Yes, I researched the distance one night.

  I was smart enough to realize my fascination was unhealthy, so I cut ties. And I’d been fine. I hadn’t obsessed over him in ten years.

  Then why did I suspect those feelings never really left?

  Just as Leo’s mouth moves to answer, a ding sounds in the room.

  My email—from my open computer.

  In front of Leo.

  I get up to close it, but Leo’s eyes see the notification before I can get there. His eyes narrow as he reads. In one second, I close the computer and he stands. I don’t know what he saw, but I have a feeling Jake decided to write back.

  “You and Jake,” he says robotically. “You’re… you’re…” He doesn’t look at me as he quickly walks out of my room, slamming the door behind him. I want to explain, but there’s nothing to explain. It’s not like I’m not breaking any rules.

  “Shit,” I hiss, under my breath. I sit down on the couch and place the laptop on my lap, reading the email that opened on my lock screen.

  Emilia,

  Who said anything about a “relationship”? We should Skype sometime this week. ;) Wear nothing.

  x,

  J.

  “Oh no,” I say out loud, cursing my laptop and the fact that one, I don’t have a passcode, and two, that new emails pop up on the screen as I get them.

  I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do. Out of all the awful things I told him about myself—including my filthy habit of eating six dozen Krispy Kreme donuts in one sitting! —and this is what will divide us.

  I should’ve started with Jake. If only I’d known Jake was a hard limit. Now I do.

  And it makes everything so much easier, because I really didn’t want to have to start breaking the rules on the first day down here.

  T E N

  Leo

  WE’RE ONLY TWO days into the season and this is already turning into the longest winter imaginable. I might’ve been able to handle the fact that I was Emilia’s supervisor. I also could’ve dealt with the fact that I’d wanted to sleep with Emilia fucking Harper, longtime childhood friend. Even my ex, Margaret—the person who had been holding me back from all women on Earth for the last six months—seemed small in comparison to what Emilia made me feel.

  But, Jake.

  I could not—would not—do that to Jake, no matter how casual their relationship turns out to be.

  I don’t know the details. I haven’t talked to him since the morning I left. Whatever it is that they’re doing, I’d hate myself forever if I ruined my friendship with my best friend over a woman. He’s my brother, my heart and soul, and he means more to me than any woman, no matter how much that woman means to me.

  And that’s not even the whole problem—she’s forbidden. Literally, it says in ink, on the contract I signed, that no fraternization is to occur between two people in the same department. I’ve worked too hard, built too much on this career, to put everything on the line. I have another year of working my ass off before I’ll likely get tenured at my university. If rumor got out that I’d had an affair with an assistant… I could kiss that opportunity goodbye.

  It’s. Not. Worth. It.

  As Gretchen, Emilia and I all begin work in the lab, and after a lengthy instruction on the machines and telescopes, I realize we really do make an incredible trio. I’d picked the two of them for a reason—refusing to look at gender or experience—and instead focused mostly on thei
r application questions and expertise. Gretchen was incredibly smart, and her math skills meant she could compute things much quicker than I could. Emilia was the dreamer—the person who wanted to do good work to help humankind understand where we came from. The one who wanted to figure out how everything worked. It was perfect for the purposes of this winter: to answer big questions about the universe as a whole, rather than questions about the stars, galaxies, or other objects that make up the universe. In particular, I was given the task of figuring out how the Universe will look in the future.

  Daunting, to say the least.

  Emilia wanted answers, and nothing would stop her from obtaining them. In astronomy, that was invaluable. In fact, when my mother asked me to hire Emilia this winter, I hadn’t realized until I sat down one night that she was the dreamer—and I’d already unwittingly hired her. But I did make my mother—and hers—very happy when I officially offered her the position a couple of months ago.

  The second day is rougher in the lab, though. The three of us have established a routine, which gives my mind more time to wander, and my eyes more time to observe. I watch Emilia as her brows furrow over one of our reports, trying to decipher what we thought was an Aerolite, but was actually a plain, old meteorite. Her knowledge of certain things is astounding—I can tell that though she’s only been a scientist for roughly two years, she’s been studying this stuff for a long time.

  It was crippling, trying to outshine you.

  Her words from two nights ago had devastated me. I’d never realized my success was drowning hers out. In fact, I never knew most of the things she told me that night. I wished I had—I wished I’d sucked it up and kept calling her. I wished we’d kept in touch rather than send each other meaningless gifts on milestone birthdays and the occasional Christmas card. I didn’t know how to handle this kind of relationship. I know her, and yet I know nothing about her. She’s frustratingly captivating.