Tracing the Stars

by Amanda Richardson

  He swallows twice before whispering something. “More sugar.”

  I set him down gently and pour another small cup of orange juice. This time, he takes the cup himself and drinks it all down in two large gulps.

  He opens his eyes and lifts himself up to a sitting position. “I’m fine, Emilia. I didn’t mean to scare you. By the time I felt it come on… Normally I’m much more responsible. Alcohol tends to mess with my blood sugar. I should’ve known better.”

  I don’t know what to say. The Leo I know is stubborn, strong-willed, and undefeatable. Yet, here he is at his most vulnerable. I’ve never seen him like this.

  “What happened?”

  “Hypoglycemic shock,” he mutters.

  “I didn’t know you were diabetic,” I say, my voice thick. I swallow once.

  “I need my glucagon injection,” he murmurs, starting to stand. I push him back down gently.

  “Where is it?” I stand up.

  “Medicine cabinet.”

  I find it and bring it back, and I watch as he injects himself in the stomach. He catches me looking, and smirks. “To raise my blood sugar. No big deal.”

  “Leo,” I whisper. “What if you’d been alone?” I stand and lean against his kitchen counter, placing my face in my hands. I’m thoroughly shaken. I shouldn’t be this affected…

  “I’ve been alone when it happened before. I would’ve woken up, gotten some juice, and injected myself.”

  “You could’ve died,” I add.

  “Doubtful,” he says, standing up and coming over to me.

  “Leo, this is serious. Don’t downplay what could’ve happened. Not with me.”

  “I’m not downplaying it, Emilia. Jesus,” he swears, rubbing his face with his hand. “I am fine.”

  We watch each other for a few seconds. I feel strange—heavier. Scared. “Do you take insulin?”

  “Yes,” he says flatly.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I challenge. “How come I never knew?”

  “There are a lot of things you never knew,” he says caustically.

  “Like Margaret?”

  His pupils darken and his face contorts with anger. “We were kids, Emilia. I didn’t keep tabs on you, so don’t make me feel guilty because you didn’t care enough to learn about my life.”

  His words destroy me. I swallow thickly. “I cared,” I whisper, feeling my throat constrict. “I wanted to know, but you stopped calling.”

  He sighs. “I’m not going to argue with you right now. Okay? I need to eat.”

  I nod and push away from the counter, shaking the heavy weight from my shoulders. “What can I make you?” Without waiting for an answer, I walk to his cabinet and find some fiber-friendly cereal and powdered milk. I stir the powder into some water and bring the bowl over to him.

  He’s looking at me funny—an expression of confused scrutiny washing over his face. “Thank you.” He begins to eat as we walk over to the couch and sit down. He chews loudly. “My god, this tastes like crap.”

  I hide my smile. The color returns to his face, and it’s scary how healthy he looks when really, his pancreas is waging a war on his body. I get that same stabbing, weighty feeling again when I think of the juxtaposition.

  “I found out when I was eight. I’d been sick for years, never really knowing what was wrong. I was thirsty all the time, hungry all the time. I slept a lot because I was constantly exhausted. Once I got on insulin, I was fine. I forget sometimes, but overall I’m pretty good about it.

  I bite the inside of my mouth. My eyes flick to the clock—five-twenty a.m. “How often have you passed out?”

  “Only a handful of times,” he says indifferently.

  I’m quiet as he finishes up the rest of the cereal. He sets the bowl down on the coffee table and watches me as he rubs a hand over his dark stubble. Neither of us says anything—we just stare at each other. I’m trying to calm my nerves. Finding him like that… I’ll never let it happen again. He just watches me with a confused expression.

  “It’s Andromeda,” I murmur, breaking the silence. I hug my legs to my chest.

  “What?” he asks, scooting closer.

  “You asked me the other night what my favorite constellation was. It’s Andromeda.”

  This piques his interest. A smile dangles on the corner of his lips. He points a finger at me. “I knew you had a favorite. Why is Andromeda your favorite?” he asks gently, and I can’t help but stare at his smile. His face completely changes when he smiles. I feel my heartbeat quickening as his shoulder touches mine.

  “Because of these freckles,” I say, pulling my tank top down my shoulder slightly. I point to the cluster of freckles on my left shoulder, and Leo traces the misshapen ‘Y’ of Andromeda with his fingers.

  “It’s a perfect replica.”

  “Those are the only freckles on my whole body,” I say, by way of explanation.

  “That’s not true,” he murmurs. “You have another freckle.”

  “I do?” He continues to trace the dots on my skin, and my breath hitches in my throat. It’s getting hard to concentrate.

  “You do. But it’s hidden somewhere inconspicuous—on the back of your right thigh.” Right. He saw me near-naked the morning after I slept with Jake. His voice is smoky. His eyes are probing me, and I feel utterly exposed and raw, emotional and impassioned. What is happening here? His lips are parted slightly, and my eyes study them like a predator ready to pounce. I’m curious as to what his facial hair would feel like against my skin. Would it be scratchy, or feathery?

  No. Shut this down, Emilia.

  He tilts his head ever so slightly, and I know in an instant that he’s going to kiss me.

  Leo Kennedy is going to kiss me right here, right now.

  I close my eyes in anticipation. I don’t care anymore. A rushing sound whooshes in my ears, and I can feel him—his lips brush mine slowly, gently. My passion detonates, and just as I’m about to melt into him, the alarm sounds.

  We both pull away and look around, in a haze.

  “Attention: the storm has been downgraded to a Condition Three. You are now allowed to move between rooms and buildings. Please remain indoors.”

  I look at Leo and his pupils are dilated. Our breathing is still heavy, and I ball my fists to control my urges. Leo looks down at the shirt he’s wearing and he seems to pull himself out of whatever trance he was in a second ago. Reality sets in.

  “You should probably get some sleep,” he says, his voice gravelly and tinted with disappointment.

  Unfulfilled longing collects inside of my stomach like a large stone. I don’t want to leave. Whatever line we’re afraid of crossing has been breached. Multiple times. Who are we kidding anymore? He must read my mind, because he sighs and stands—a silent request for me to leave—and thwarts everything with six words.

  “This was a moment of weakness,” he murmurs. That’s all this was: a moment of weakness. “Do you know how many things are working against us?” he reminds me. “I’m not a good person to be with. I’ll just push you away. And that’ll be after we respectively ruin our careers.” I open my mouth to say something, but he gently places a hand against it. “I’m not in my right mind. The glucagon messes with my inhibitions. It won’t happen again,” he murmurs.

  His hand falls away, and he watches me morosely for a beat before turning and walking into his bedroom.

  And with that, he’s gone. The click sound of the closing door solidifies my mortification, and I rush out of his apartment before I say or do anything stupid. I replay his words over and over in my mind.

  It won’t happen again.

  I sigh and leave, shutting his door behind me.

  It won’t happen again.

  T W E L V E

  Leo

  I SPEND THE next month in a complete daze, focusing solely on work. After my moment of vulnerability with Emilia a few weeks ago, I’m careful not to spend too much time around her. The fact that I was wearing Jake’s shirt
in the moment I almost betrayed him disgusts me. It doesn’t matter how casual she thinks they are. I know Jake, and I know how he gets with women he sleeps with. He’s like a cat. She is his now—like he’s marking her. Might as well piss in a circle around her. I am a horrible human being for not shutting this whole fucking thing down when I had the chance. I never should’ve tried to kiss her.

  Now it’s undeniable.

  Limiting my interactions with Emilia ends up being a smart move—the only move that seems to work. We have an exorbitant amount of work to get through, and I work both Gretchen and Emilia tirelessly to get it done. Not looking at Emilia keeps the mistakes at bay, at least. I allow myself to see her only in the lab, and only under professional circumstances. At the end of each day, we all retreat to our respective rooms and pass out, exhausted. I tell myself it’s for the good of astronomy, but I know I do it to keep my mind busy.

  Damien offers to accompany me to breakfast and dinner most days, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to. We talk about current events, the stock exchange, and other things that seem so endlessly far away from this place. Gretchen’s kept her distance as well, no doubt having been filled in on everything by Emilia. I don’t have time to dwell on the complexities of Gretchen Thompson (and from what Damien tells me in passing, there are many complexities).

  One Friday night in late March, while I’m eating dinner with Damien, I hear about an impromptu “last sunset” party. Though they’d had one last winter, I was too busy working to attend. Apparently, everyone hauls their frozen asses onto the observation deck and watches as the last of the reddish hue in the sky disappears, replacing it with total blackness—not to be seen for almost four months. On our way out to the deck, I notice Emilia walking with Gretchen, but she doesn’t acknowledge me.

  Go figure.

  It’s only my second time being outside this winter, and it’s just as extraordinary as any other time I’ve been out here. There’s no real way to describe the amount of stars and galaxies visible to the human eye here. Most people have seen the Milky Way at one point or another—but this is a whole other ballgame. The stars practically assault your eyes, begging for your attention, mesmerizing you completely. It’s amazing how many stars the light pollution hides, just beyond your perception but still there nonetheless. A magic show behind the velvet curtain of the atmosphere. Because most nights are clear, I’m now berating myself for not getting out here more often. The arctic weather shouldn’t deter me with proper gear.

  “I got you a beer,” Damien says, coming up behind me.

  “Thanks.” I take a few sips. The liquid will freeze if it’s out here too long.

  Emilia stands next to Damien with Gretchen at her other side, and she shoots me a friendly smile. I can’t help but admire her from afar, because even in a parka and a hat, she looks beautiful. Her hair is pulled to one side in a messy braid, and the ends have white frost sticking to them. Plus, her lips are unbelievably red, which only makes me want to kiss them. Somehow, having Damien in our group diffuses the tension, and we’re all able to have a polite conversation about the impending sunset, shivering and rubbing our hands together in between talking. Right before I’m about to excuse myself to go to bed, I hear someone make an announcement.

  “It’s happening!” someone from across the deck shouts.

  Everyone scurries over to the edge of the railing, and I look around at the tundra—white everywhere, but you wouldn’t know it because it’s so dark out there. I hadn’t realized, but the whole time we’ve been standing out here, the sky has gone from maroon to black. The sun is officially gone, giving way to an inky blackness. I press against the people in front of me, trying to get a better look towards the front of the railing. As people begin to head back inside—it’s minus forty out, so people are eager to get back inside—I see Emilia press herself against the railing next to me. A few people chat behind us, but the majority of the station has since retreated inside. She turns to face me, and my god, she’s bewitchingly beautiful.

  A goddamn siren in the snow.

  “I’m not talking to Jake anymore,” she starts, watching as the last of the people leave the deck to head back inside. I open my mouth, trying to come up with a snarky retort, but she continues. “In case you’re wondering, I didn’t tell him about—about what happened,” she adds, biting her lip and looking away.

  “Emilia,” I start, sighing heavily, “I never meant to—”

  “You ruined everything,” she whispers. It’s so quiet, I almost don’t hear her. When her words wrap around my mind, I feel the strongest urge to reach out and hug her. “You destabilized whatever equilibrium we had by trying to kiss me, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  She cocks her head and watches me with a helpless expression, her eyebrows furrowed together, as if my presence is actually painful for her.

  Goddammit.

  You ruined everything.

  You ruined everything.

  I can’t put into words the amount of self-loathing I feel in that instant.

  “Excuse me,” I mutter. I walk to the stairs of the deck, taking deep breaths as I quicken my pace.

  I need to get out of here. Except, I have nowhere to go but forward, since I’m sure as hell not navigating my way through the crowd behind me, just inside the door. So I continue on, into the tundra, away from the deck. I think I’m alone until I hear Emilia call my name.

  “Leo!” she says from somewhere behind me. I keep walking. I hear the crunching behind me, and I know she’s catching up to me. For some reason, that scares me. And I don’t know why. “Leo, slow down!” she yells. “Why are you running? Where are you going?”

  I round the corner of a building, and the noise from the generator goes from dull to nonexistent. It’s dark, but a lamp lights the way so that I can see where I’m going.

  I don’t stop.

  “Leo!” I spin around, and just as I do, she’s there, right in front of me. We’re both panting. “Why are you running away from me?” Her worried voice slays me. It pierces my heart and shatters it into a million pieces. “Where could you possibly be going? If you wanted to get away from me, all you had to do was ask me to leave.”

  “What are we doing?” I ask, my voice desperate and pleading.

  “What do you mean?” Her breath swirls around her, and I notice she now has ice on her eyebrows and eyelashes. It doesn’t help the effect she has on me.

  “This. Us. What the hell are we doing?”

  “I don’t know,” she says flatly, and I know she doesn’t believe it either. “But maybe we need to lay some ground rules down. Maybe we should make an effort to be friends.”

  “Fuck being friends,” I whisper, and before I know what I’m doing, my body is colliding with hers and I’m pushing her up against the wall of the building with our lips pressed together.

  At first, I think she might push me away, but my probing tongue seems to have the opposite effect, because all she does is grab the back of my neck with one hand and clutch my parka with the other, bringing me impossibly close to her. I feel myself harden instantly—my body knows what it wants. The steam rising from our cold faces creates an otherworldly experience. She bites my lip and I moan, she groans, and there’s a flurry of hands groping, pulling, pushing… I push her against the wall harder and she cries out.

  “Emilia,” I rasp between kisses, and I’m no longer cold. “God, you make me fucking crazy,” I say, before taking her bottom lip and sucking on it. Her moan undoes me. I push her harder into the side of the building as my tongue works hers. Her panting, the smell of her breath, her pillowy lips… it’s all too much. I will myself to pull away.

  “Damn you,” she whispers, looking down. Her whole body is shaking—from the cold or from our kiss, I’m not sure. “Damn you, Leo.” She tears herself away from me and walks away, back up to the deck. I curse and kick the snow.

  Stupid move. Stupid moment.

  If it wasn’t clear before I kissed her�
�you ruined everything—I definitely just solidified things.

  T H I R T E E N

  Emilia

  AMUNDSEN-SCOTT IS touted as the party station, and I now understand why. There’s a new party every week, every day for that matter. I don’t attend most of them. Leo has us working most days, and on my days off, I get caught up on writing my thesis. However, the midwinter party is the biggest party of the season, and Gretchen made me promise that I’d go.

  It’s been almost six weeks since the kiss with Leo, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking about it every second of every day. It doesn’t stop me from fantasizing about what would’ve happened, what could’ve happened. Mostly, I’m just angry with him. The back and forth is giving me whiplash. Since when is it okay to push a woman away—twice, I might add—only to lose control later? Why is it okay to kiss me on his terms, but not mine? What had changed?

  Most of the time, I keep my hormones in check, but there are other times, like when I get a whiff of evergreen, or when he wears my favorite flannel shirt of his, that drive me to leave the room he’s in and go elsewhere. It’s a big station, and so far, I’ve managed to not be in the same room as him alone if I can help it. The electricity between us, even with Gretchen is in the room, is almost unbearable. That’s the thing with us—the chemistry is not an issue, nor is our compatibility. But so many things could go wrong if we started a relationship, and it’s not like I can change jobs and move to a different city. There’s a lot of pressure, and I’m not sure I’m ready to be in a serious relationship, to be honest. Not with Leo, not down here, not while he’s my supervisor.

  So the night of the midwinter party, I don’t focus on how his pants hang just so, accentuating his toned thighs. I ignore the worry building inside of me when I see him excuse himself to the restroom. Instead, I focus on why I’m here—my job—to do work that some people would kill for. I am starting to love the camaraderie and the sense of familiarity I’m sure I’ll miss when I leave.