When The Stars Align

by Jeanette Grey

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The day Jo’s father left, they had coffee again. She brought her data, and he brought his. She found two mistakes in a paper he was drafting, and he found none.

  It might’ve been the best conversation they’d ever had.

  At the end of it, he stood up and held out his hand. She took it, shook it twice. But when she went to pull away, he held on.

  “This Christmas,” he said, looking past her. “The house is always open.”

  She swallowed hard. “Are you cooking?”

  “Dear Lord, no.”

  She laughed, uncomfortable and uncertain. “I’ll think about it.”

  “It’s all I can ask.”

  With that, he let go of her hand. She stood there, watching as he walked away.

  “You okay?” asked a voice from behind her.

  She peeked over her shoulder, knowing full well who she would find. Once Adam was close enough, she leaned into him, letting her head fall back against his chest. “Yeah. I think I am.”

  Wrapping his arms around her, Adam kissed her temple. “Good.”

  He came up behind her again that night, while she was washing up for bed.

  “What are you looking at?” he asked.

  Jo leaned in closer to the mirror and ran her fingers through the streaks of fading blue. “It’s about time to redo it.”

  Bright colors like hers always washed out faster than normal ones. Such a pain in the ass. She’d been neglecting it for a while now, but it was starting to look sort of sad.

  “Do you have the stuff to touch it up?”

  “I do.” She pulled the strands straight, then let them go.

  “But?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I think I might be ready for a change.”

  The package she ordered arrived a few days later, and she gave thanks to the modern miracle of Internet shopping and free shipping. She felt like kind of a dick, asking the five other girls she lived with if she could have the bathroom for a while. Barricading herself inside, she prepped the way she always did, greasing up her hairline and snapping the bottoms of a pair of gloves as she pulled them on.

  Before she could get very far, a knock came on the door. She grimaced. “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry, but can I sneak in?”

  Yeah, sharing a single bathroom with that many women was an experience. She tugged off one of the gloves, turning it inside out in the hopes of being able to reuse it when she was done. She opened the door to find Carol standing outside.

  “Sorry,” Carol said.

  “No big.”

  She stood outside with dye half applied to her hair while Carol did whatever she needed to. When Carol emerged, she gave Jo a considering look.

  “Do you want any help with that?”

  “I can do it myself.”

  “I know you can.” Carol rolled her eyes. “But it can be annoying trying to make sure you’ve gotten everything if you can’t see. I don’t mind.”

  Jo hesitated. A handful of weeks ago, she would’ve thrown Carol out without a second thought. But things were different now. Bracing herself, as if the offer were really a trick, she pulled out a fresh glove and handed it over. “If you really want to.”

  Carol had Jo sit on the closed toilet seat and stood over her, working the pigment into her hair. As she did, she asked, “Is this stuff permanent?”

  “Semi. Washes out in maybe a month or so?” Trying something new—especially on top of the other chemicals left over from her last color—Jo hadn’t wanted to take the risk.

  “Do you think we could do a streak in mine?”

  Jo managed not to jerk her head up. “You? Really?”

  “I think it might look cool.”

  With Carol’s fair hair, it would probably take. “Sure. I guess.”

  Carol finished up Jo’s hair, and Jo tugged on the ever-attractive shower cap. Together, they picked out a lock of pale, blond hair. Jo scooped out some dye and hovered, her fingers just above the strand. “You absolutely certain about this?”

  Carol took a deep breath and nodded decisively. “Yes.”

  It didn’t take long to get the color worked in. Jo sectioned it off and secured it in plastic wrap, then hopped up to sit on the counter. “Now we wait.”

  In the thirty minutes or so they had to kill, the better part of the household wandered by and ended up lingering around to chat. And it was… weird. Sitting in a bathroom in a shower cap, talking about nebulae and star clusters. An uncomfortable bubble of feeling rose up in her chest.

  This was the astronomer-friendly version of girl time. Of friendship.

  And she was a part of it.

  Kim was the one to ask, “How much longer?”

  Jo checked the clock on her phone. “About negative five minutes.”

  “Oh shit.” Carol’s hands flew up to her head. “Is my hair going to burn off?”

  “Hardly. This stuff is tame, don’t worry.”

  They took turns rinsing it out. Someone produced a hair dryer—because blowing hot air at your head when it was a million degrees out was an awesome idea—and Jo almost balked. But it would be the fastest way to see how the color had come out…

  Kim stole the dryer about three seconds into her attempt with it. “Hey!” Jo grabbed to take it back.

  “Trust me. Let the professionals handle this.”

  Jo grimaced, but she could admit when she was out of her depth. Kim did her work, and when she was done, Jo turned around to look.

  “Oh, wow.” She reached up to touch the strands. The faded blue with the pink dye over it had come out a vivid purple.

  “What do you think?” Carol asked, shouting over the sound of the blower as she worked on her own damp mess.

  It was her best happy accident yet. “It’s perfect.”

  When Adam came over later, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of her. She crossed her arms in front of herself, holding her breath.

  Not that she cared. A dude’s opinion was irrelevant. Even this dude’s.

  But she wanted him to like it.

  After a heart-stopping moment, he smiled. “I love it.”

  Only, the way he was looking at her, the softness in his eyes…

  It sounded like he was talking about more than her hair.

  She forced a smile and uncrossed her arms, moving in close. Before he could say anything else, she kissed him.

  She had a new look, and she was trying out a new attitude. But some things hadn’t changed. They were still here to work, and in a few short weeks, they’d be going back to their lives.

  And she had no idea what hers would look like, after.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The final weekend of the program found Adam on a ferry, surging across the water, Jo in his arms as they gazed out over the railing. It was their first and only overnight trip.

  She turned her head, raising her voice to be heard over the wind. “What’s so special about this place we’re going to?”

  “This place we’re going to” was Vieques Island. And the attraction they were traveling all that way to see was called “the bio bay.” He settled his hands on her hips and spoke into her ear. “It’s full of little creatures called dinoflagellates, and every time they move or get disturbed, they glow.” He kissed her neck. “If you’d been listening, you would’ve known that.”

  She shrugged. “I was busy.”

  They all had been. Their final presentations were coming up, and everyone was scrambling to get them done. And then once they were over…

  He swallowed hard, dropping his head so he could rest his brow against her hair. In a handful of days, they’d all get onto different planes. She’d be in a different state, a different time zone, even. No more late nights staying up talking, no more sleeping curled around her. No more cutting gazes or sharp remarks. And no more kisses. Before long, he’d be back in Philly, settling into his apartment with the guys, checking his phone for missed calls or
messages or anything. Again.

  They hadn’t talked about it yet, but they had to. Tonight. They’d get checked into their hotel and tour around the little tourist trap. Go out on the bio bay and maybe have some drinks with the gang, and after… He’d take her out on the beach. Get her to tell him what she thought happened next. Try to convince her she wanted what he did.

  More.

  The wind picked up, and Jo patted his wrist before wriggling out of his arms. She retreated over to where some of the others were sitting, and that right there made his heart swell. She wasn’t an open book by any means, but he wasn’t the only one she’d stopped pushing away. She patted Carol’s leg to get her to take it off the seat, then sat down right beside her. Sure, she pulled out a book as soon as she did, but at least she was being a crazy workaholic with other people instead of by herself. Adam would take progress where he could get it.

  He was just about to go join her when Jared stood up and made his way over to Adam. “Hey, man.”

  “Hey.” Adam gave him the dudebro handshake that was expected of him and leaned his hip against the railing.

  “Did you talk to Jo about her and Kim rooming together?”

  “Yeah. She said it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Tom had elected to stay behind at Arecibo, so Adam and Jared were the only guys on the trip. They roomed together, and Kim and Jo bunked up. It worked out perfectly for them to switch.

  “Awesome.”

  Convenient, definitely. And then it struck him—he and Jared had more than just their rooming preferences in common right now. He leaned his head to the side and lowered his voice. “Have you guys talked yet? About the whole going home thing?”

  “What, me and Kim?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “I mean, you seem kind of serious.”

  He’d been prepared for a lot of reactions. Jared smacking his shoulder and laughing in his face wasn’t one of them. “Dude. No. Are you shitting me?”

  Adam’s brow scrunched up. “She sleeps over all the time.”

  “Because we do it all the time. That’s it, though. We decided that before we started this.”

  “Oh.” Adam’s chest went tight.

  “That’s why summer flings are so great. You get it on and you get out. No worrying about commitments or feelings.” Then he paused, as if hearing what he’d said. “Wait. Are you… you and crazy girl aren’t—”

  “Don’t call her that.” Adam was pretty sure Jared didn’t mean anything by it. But it grated all the same.

  “Okay, okay.” Jared held his hands up. “But for real, though. You aren’t going to try the long-distance thing, are you?”

  “I want to. We’re…” There wasn’t any denying it. After everything they’d been through, all the work it had taken to get to where they were. “It’s kind of serious.”

  “Dude. Dude, no.” Jared looked like Adam was physically paining him.

  Clearly, this had been a mistake. “Never mind.” He moved to walk away, only to have Jared grab him by the arm.

  “It’s suicide. You realize that, right? It never works out, and in the meantime you’re, what, celibate? Not worth it.”

  It made Adam’s shoulders draw up. If anything in the world was worth it, Jo was. They were. He shrugged Jared off. “Thanks for the advice.”

  He made his way over to the section of seats with the rest of them and took the empty one across from Jo. She looked up from her work just long enough to smile at him, and any doubts he might have had faded away.

  Worth. It.

  The ferry docked not too much longer. With P.J. leading the charge, they filed off the boat and into a couple of taxis that took them to one of the less awesome hotels he’d ever seen, but for the price they were paying, he couldn’t exactly object. They put their stuff down in their assigned rooms—they’d figure out the switching part later.

  “Anybody want to go exploring?” one of the girls called from down the hall.

  Adam stepped out to peek his head into Jo’s room. “You want to go?”

  “Nah.” Jo waved him off. “But you should if you want.”

  Adam reminded himself that Jo was intent on getting a paper out of this summer’s work. He shouldn’t give her any shit about it. With a kiss to her temple, he headed off to join the others who were heading out.

  In the end, the town was as much of a tourist trap as Adam had figured it would be. Lots of little bars and grills, populated by burned-out surfers. Shoes were a rarity, and shirts almost as much so. Everything was island themed, which made sense, but it all looked sort of cheap.

  Beyond the rows of restaurants, clean, white beach loomed, and Adam’s spirits rose. Ocean water and sand had treated him well the last time. He motioned to head that way, and the others followed along. But then he stopped when a woman at a shack of a roadside stand called out to them.

  Normally, it wouldn’t have caught his interest. But the lady was peddling jewelry, and not complete and total crap at that. His gaze caught on a necklace. A black leather cord, strung with metal and wooden beads, and hanging from the center of it, a wooden pendant.

  Okay, so it was kind of crap. But not entirely. And most importantly of all, burned or etched into the wood was the image of Scorpius, the constellation he and Jo had spent so much time staring up at.

  “How much?” he asked, reaching for his wallet.

  He didn’t even bother to haggle. It was inexpensive enough, and once he’d seen it, he had to have it. The only jewelry he’d ever seen Jo wear had been for her mother, and she put that on rarely enough. He doubted she’d get much use of this, either, but she’d have it. Have something to remember him by. He tucked the little bundle in his pocket.

  “Come on,” Carol called. They were all waiting for him.

  He smiled and jogged to join them.

  Okay, it wasn’t as if Jo hadn’t been paying any attention when P.J. had been talking up their final field trip. She’d caught that it was going to be cool and sciencey, that it would cost eighty bucks, and that Adam wanted to go.

  She hadn’t needed to know a whole lot more.

  That said, she didn’t have the best of ideas about what she was in for as she rode along in an old, decommissioned school bus toward the mythical bay they were visiting. Up at the front of the bus, a woman gave them some background on the biology behind how the place supposedly glowed, and Jo half paid attention while sneaking glances at Adam in profile beside her. It was just after nightfall, his face mostly in shadow, but the rough shape of his nose and the jut of his chin, the cut of his jaw all stood out against the darkness beyond.

  He’d been quiet tonight. Not in a bad way, she didn’t think, but a coiled up sort of tension made his shoulders rise and his spine stiffen. The guy had something on his mind.

  She had a really bad feeling it was her.

  With a sinking feeling in her abdomen, she dropped her gaze.

  She’d known from the start that Adam wasn’t the sort of guy you had a quick little summer fling with and then walked away from. The perfect, gorgeous idiot fell in love with his whole damn heart and he held on past the point of reason, past the point of sanity. She knew. She’d watched him do it with Shannon. Hell, he’d said it himself. He’d been clinging to some idea of her long past the point where it made any kind of sense. Fuck if he wasn’t going to do it with Jo, too.

  She couldn’t let him. She was such a mess. Her entire life, she’d been holding herself together with fear and anger and resentment, and ever since he’d stripped her of them, peeling them away piece by piece, she’d been holding herself together with his arms. It couldn’t last. Sure, she was a good lay, but when they were half a country apart, she wouldn’t even be able to give him that. She wasn’t here to be saved or to be idealized. She had to figure herself out, see what strings could tie her insides in when she was on her own.

  And while she was off doing that, he’d go on and find the perfect, sane girl who’d give him everything he really needed. He dese
rved that. Not the memory of some pierced-up chick who once upon a time he’d helped a lot.

  So why did just the idea of it have to hurt so much?

  Before she could dwell on it any more, the bus pulled off the main road, rocking as it hit the unpaved path. Adam squeezed her hand, and the gesture only made it worse. After a few more minutes, they finally came to a stop, and the lights came on, making her wince. Groans came out from around her, so apparently she hadn’t been the only one getting her night vision on.

  They filed off the bus and followed their tour leader toward a boat docked at a tiny pier. She accepted her life jacket and climbed aboard, still unable to see what all the fuss was about.

  Once everyone was settled in, the boat slipped out into the bay, unusually quiet but for the rushing of water. The lights at the dock receded into the distance.

  And then she glanced behind her.

  “Adam. Look.”

  Behind them, the boat’s wake shimmered with a living, breathing, cascading blue. She looked over the side, and it was everywhere. The boat met liquid and light erupted.

  Adam nudged her shoulder and pointed into the distance at trails of brilliance dashing beneath the surface. “Fish.”

  And suddenly, she got it. Why they’d come all this way, why they’d had to come at night. Their guide was giving them yet more information about the billions of tiny creatures in the water, responding to motion by emitting light, but Jo was only half listening even now. All she could do was watch.

  In the very center of the bay, their pilot cut the engines off. “If anybody wants to, now’s your chance to jump in.”

  Jo was the first in line. A quick check of her life vest from their guide, a nod of approval, and then she was jumping. Falling. Plunging.

  Into a universe of stars.

  Everything was silence, weightless floating and pinpricks of light dissolving into churning swaths of ethereal glow. Each movement of her hand and twitch of her foot. A flash of inspiration, and she twirled, sending brightness spiraling out and swallowing her whole.

  She came up when she needed to breathe, breaking surface into cool night air. “Oh my God.”

  Adam came up splashing beside her, and she turned to him.