Swearing Off Stars

by Danielle Wong

  The rest of my day passed easily as I rode out my presentation high. I walked back to the Watsons’ after class, planning on an early night to catch up on sleep. My buzz was fading, and even the rosebush-lined sidewalk felt rough underneath my tired feet.

  I looked up to see that the front door was ajar, and it stopped me in my tracks. It was getting late and the Watsons’ car was still in their pebbly driveway instead of the garage. I hesitated for a moment before entering the mansion. I shut the door quietly behind me and tiptoed up to the staircase. There were only a few steps left when I heard Mr. Watson’s angry voice booming from the master bedroom, “I bloody well know what it is, Camilla!”

  Mrs. Watson’s mild tone did little to appease him.

  “Well, I don’t want that filth in my house!”

  Her voice grew louder but was still muffled from my position.

  “Fucking women’s movement. It’s garbage is what it is,” Mr. Watson growled.

  I felt chills creep down the length of my spine as I inched closer to their door.

  There was more inaudible talking, and then the door flew open and Mr. Watson was standing in front of me, hair disheveled, an empty glass in his hand, and a menacing look in his eyes. “Well, well,” he muttered when he caught sight of me, and a toothy grin took hold of his face.

  I stood frozen in place as Mrs. Watson peered over his shoulder. She flashed a horrified look in my direction before moving past him and placing herself in between us.

  “Lia, dear,” she said with a shaky voice.

  “H-hi.”

  “Were you eavesdropping, girl?” Mr. Watson asked threateningly.

  I shook my head and clutched my book bag even tighter.

  “Maybe we should see if she knows anything about this nonsense,” he said, glaring at Mrs. Watson.

  “Bruce, she doesn’t—”

  “Shut it!” he barked.

  Mr. Watson walked back into the bedroom, leaving Mrs. Watson and myself alone at the top of the stairs. She held her finger up to her lips and shook her head slowly. I wasn’t sure what she meant.

  “What is this?” he snarled as he reemerged from the room. “Is it yours?”

  Mr. Watson held a crumply pink flyer in front of my face. His intense stare didn’t leave my eyes until Mrs. Watson spoke.

  “I told you, Bruce. A group of Oxford students dropped it by the house earlier today while you were at work.”

  I suddenly understood Mrs. Watson’s gestures.

  “It’s bloody unacceptable!” he snapped as he turned back to face his wife.

  “They were just canvassing the neighborhood,” she said weakly.

  “Listen, girl,” he said, glaring at me again. “If this is yours, you better wise up. Because I don’t tolerate this type of trash in my house.”

  I wondered if he could hear my heart pounding against my chest. Beads of sweat pricked the back of my neck, but I tried to appear calm. The moment reminded me of how I’d felt in the woods just weeks earlier.

  “You don’t know anything about this, do you dear?” Mrs. Watson prompted me.

  Still frozen in fear, I wanted to tell them that I did know about the movement—that I was actually an integral part of it. But as I looked at Mr. Watson’s face, I realized that everything would be wasted on him. His bigoted mindset was held up by years of experience and reinforcement. So I shook my head reluctantly and stared at the snowy white carpet beneath my feet.

  Chapter 8

  SCARLETT

  That’s the moment I realized it. The presentation. We’re standing there with sweaty palms and red faces, awaiting the board’s rejection, and then out of nowhere, Lia raises her voice. And she does it in the most fantastic way—not defensive, not offensive, just plain convincing. In that moment, she was confident as hell and impossible not to admire.

  Of course Will loved it too, just for different reasons. He couldn’t stop bloody praising her. I wonder if she remembers what I said that night at Wonderland. I wonder if I tainted her opinion of him. I told her that Will was unfaithful and who knows what else. Which is not a lie . . . not all of it, anyway. Technically, he has cheated on me. But with men.

  I met Will at an underground club ages ago. We were young teenagers in London, drunk on secrets and fear. Then again, secret and homosexual go hand in hand. I just can’t believe I almost told Lia everything. Will would kill me.

  We have something special, he and I. It’s not exactly romance, but it’s a hell of a friendship. We take care of each other and maintain the necessary facade. As far as I’m concerned, Will and I are in a committed relationship.

  That’s why I’ve had such mixed feelings about Lia. Of course she’s attractive, but it’s risky for so many reasons. When I’m around her, I want to be dangerously honest. I want to tell Amelia Cole how often I think about her. I want to tell her that Will and I are nothing more than best friends. Most of all, I want to tell her that I’ve fallen in love with her.

  Chapter 9

  LIA

  I never spoke another word to Bruce Watson. In fact, he left on a business trip two days after the incident and didn’t return for the remainder of my stay. I’m still not sure what exactly happened between him and Camilla, but I didn’t dare ask.

  With the remainder of our team still on a high from the university presentation, we decided to call off meetings until the following term. Everyone agreed that it would be good to have a proper break and enjoy the holidays. The December Ball—a highly anticipated event that rendered most students giddy from pure excitement—was upon us. We planned to go as couples: Scarlett and Will, Ida and Ryan, Marshall and me. Although I was still uncomfortable going to a dance with a stranger, humoring Scarlett was too tempting to pass up.

  I invited Scarlett over to get ready, capitalizing on Mr. Watson’s absence and secretly hoping she would help me look half-decent. The night of the dance she arrived early, armed with a trunk full of British makeup and fluffy cosmetic brushes. She followed me upstairs, heels in hand and ball gown draped over her shoulder.

  I shook my head and smiled, knowing that my ruddy complexion would give her a run for her money. But Scarlett was up to the challenge. A flurry of products transformed my skin, and I watched satisfaction creep onto her face as she worked. She lined my eyes with rich black kohl before dusting sparkly silver shadow onto my lids. When she was done I glanced into the mirror and gaped, wondering how my friend learned to apply makeup so flawlessly.

  We both slipped into our dresses and giggled at the contrast. Scarlett’s bright silver gown was every opposite of my black bodice.

  “You look . . . stunning,” she said, inhaling.

  I smiled as she put on a pair of sapphire teardrop earrings. She held up a finger and fished through her evening clutch, then pulled out a diamond choker that made me gasp.

  “For you,” she said, grinning.

  I walked toward her.

  “Only for the night,” she said with a wink. “It’s my fanciest piece of jewelry.”

  I turned around and felt the weight of each stone as she fastened the band around my neck. We stood there for a moment, Scarlett inches behind me with her left hand resting on my shoulder. Once I got used to the feeling of her diamond necklace, all I felt was the weight of her slender fingers.

  She played with the ends of my thick hair and murmured something about them looking tamer than usual. I not only heard but felt her laugh . . . a sensation of warm breath and ticklish vibrations. The strangeness of it all broke my captivation. I turned around and checked my wooden wall clock.

  “Scarlett,” I breathed. “It’s time to meet up with the others.”

  We arrived as a large group then quickly split off into couples—after which Marshall, who was nice and quiet, immediately disappeared into a sea of tuxedos and ball gowns. I figured he was probably going to meet up with another girl and was surprised to find that I was relieved; my two left feet had been dreading a public display on the dance floor anyway.
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  The auditorium smelled of musky cologne and rum punch. Lively music played as drinks flowed freely. I looked around and quickly realized that my dark dress didn’t fit in with the growing mass of vibrant chiffon evening gowns. Embarrassed, I said hello to a couple of classmates before stepping outside to inhale some crisp winter air.

  As I walked toward the courtyard, I looked across the room and saw Scarlett. She was slow dancing with Will, head perched on his right shoulder. Her smoky eyes were cheerless, as if she was anywhere but in a room full of dancing college coeds. I smiled but she didn’t see me. Those sad eyes. I stood there wondering why she looked so lost.

  Eventually, I made my way into a rosebush-lined courtyard. I faced the frosty windows, staring at the enamored couples inside. Some were dancing, others laughing and talking. How nice it must be, I thought, to feel that in love with someone.

  The corner of my eye caught a flash of Scarlett’s silver dress.

  “Hi you!” she said and hugged me quickly.

  “Well, hello there,” I said, attempting a fake British accent.

  We both laughed as our collective breath turned to clouds in the shadowy air.

  “Why are you all alone out here, Amelia?”

  “Marshall left me for another woman,” I joked.

  “The bastard,” she said, eyebrows quirking.

  We both broke out into smiles.

  “I don’t really enjoy these things,” I said. “To be honest, I always feel a bit out of place.”

  “So do I,” she confessed. “I know it seems like I love these dances, but it’s all a bit overwhelming . . .”

  I looked up at her, surprised. Maybe there was still much more to Scarlett than I realized. We turned back to face the windows, staring silently into their glow for a while.

  “The thing is Amelia, I only really want to dance with you.”

  Her unexpected words hung there patiently, waiting for a response.

  When my stunned face didn’t grant her one, she tried something else. Scarlett took my hand and led me beyond the ivy-clad brick buildings. Her silky palm wrapped around my hesitant fingers like a warm glove. Before long, I gave in to the tender sensation and gripped her hand like it was something I was afraid I would lose.

  She pulled away once we reached a raised wooden gazebo. It was brilliantly decorated with twisted green vines. We walked up the stone steps until we were standing underneath it, lights flickering all around us.

  As I admired the place we’d found ourselves in, Scarlett maintained a steady gaze on me. I pretended to be distracted, but she didn’t let up until I looked back at her. My heart raced as I met her eyes.

  “Amelia,” she whispered and extended her arm. “Come here.”

  But I just stood there, frozen in place. “I—I can’t,” I finally managed to say.

  She was all that I wanted in that moment. But I wouldn’t let myself take one step closer to Scarlett.

  “I know that I’m not the only one who feels this way,” she said, moving slowly toward me.

  “Please don’t,” I muttered inaudibly. The truth is, I didn’t want her to hear me.

  “You and me,” she continued. “There’s something here.”

  I turned away from Scarlett and stared into the darkness. Deep down, I knew that she was right. I’d denied my feelings from the day we met, hoping they would eventually fade. But they had only intensified, so I turned back to face her.

  “Lia . . .” Her voice was a beautiful whisper.

  “There is something more,” I admitted.

  “Does it scare you?” she asked hesitantly, moving even closer.

  “Yes . . . very much.”

  We were face-to-face now, inches from each other.

  “Does it scare you?”

  “No.” She smiled. “It excites me.”

  I took the final step, closing the space between us so that our bodies were just touching. All I could feel was the curve of her breasts, pressing gently into my chest. She leaned forward and planted a soft, sweet kiss on my flushed cheek. Her lips lingered there for a moment, and I inhaled her intoxicating scent. Then she moved back and looked patiently into my eyes. I smiled and leaned in, and her smooth mouth met my chapped lips—a heavenly contrast I wanted to bask in forever. Chills shot down my neck, and butterflies flooded my stomach.

  “Was that okay?” she asked as we separated.

  “Yes.” I smiled. “Yes.”

  All I could think about was how much I wanted to kiss her again.

  She cast her gaze upward. “Look at the stars.”

  “They’re brilliant,” I whispered as I stared up into the twinkling sky. “I don’t usually take the time to look at them.”

  “I can’t live without a clear night sky,” Scarlett whispered.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “It’s silly,” she confessed. “But as long as I can see the stars, I know that everything will be okay. I just . . . believe in them.”

  “Like fate?”

  She reached out and squeezed my hand tightly. “Exactly,” she said. “Just like fate.”

  “Maybe it can be our thing,” I proposed.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “You and me . . . we’re like the stars.”

  That was the moment I realized I loved Scarlett Daniels. I would never again look at a night sky in the same way.

  Our kiss lingered on my tingly lips for days. I felt like a frivolous schoolgirl whenever I thought of her. Admitting my feelings to Scarlett had also been admitting them to myself—and now I knew for sure that she felt the same way I did. That realization, and the concurrent excitement I felt, was enough to distract me from almost everything else.

  Each night, I caught myself staring up at the stars. I snuck out onto the Watsons’ balcony to look at the night sky and think about Scarlett. She had lengthy evening rehearsals, so we didn’t see each other much the following week. But when we spoke in passing, she asked if I wanted to watch her act in the winter production. Of course I said yes.

  Chapter 10

  SCARLETT

  “I love her.”

  “Love?”

  Will looks at me through doubtful eyes. We’re walking through a frozen off-campus park.

  “Yes,” I say—assertive, sure.

  “Wow, Scar. That was quick.”

  “I know. But this is different. She’s different . . .”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” he says, winking.

  “I’m serious, Will,” I say, though I can’t help but laugh.

  “I believe you.” He nods and squeezes my hand.

  “I was thinking that maybe I should be honest with her.”

  I feel a tug as he stops walking.

  “About what?”

  “You know.” I tilt my head.

  “Scarlett. We have a deal.”

  “I know, but—”

  “We keep this up until we graduate. Your terms, not mine.”

  I’m suddenly out of breath. “I have to go get ready. Rehearsal’s at seven.”

  His stare burns through me until I turn away.

  “Scarlett . . .”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  He’s still staring. “I really should get to the theatre,” I continue. “The play starts in a few hours.”

  “I’ll be there,” he says and gives me a quick peck on the cheek.

  A group of students walks by, glances in our direction. Will sees them and instinctively pulls me in for a showy, lustless kiss.

  Chapter 11

  LIA

  A set of red velvet curtains opened to reveal Verona, home of the Capulets and Montagues. Dialogue began and I was immediately immersed in Shakespeare’s creative world. The costumes were as elaborate as the backdrops and stage props. A full house of theatre enthusiasts applauded each carefully-crafted scene and perfectly-cast actor.

  Scarlett was breathtaking as she delivered her lines with unadulterated emotion. The audience felt her joy, lust, and eventual heartb
reak as the last act ended. My eyes were glued to the stage until the final line.

  For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

  Everyone cheered wildly as the curtains closed and Scarlett disappeared behind a sea of red.

  I needed to see her after that play. I left Scarlett a note back-stage saying that I would stop by her room later that evening to celebrate, and practically ran back to the Watsons’ to shower and fuss over my outfit for a while. After much deliberation, I settled on a lavender lace dress that flattered my slim frame.

  I knocked twice before turning the brass knob. Scarlett often left her door unlocked.

  “Amelia,” she said with a shy smile. She was sitting in a large maroon armchair in the corner opposite the door.

  “What’s all this?” I smiled back. The room was aglow with vanilla candles and tiny red lanterns. Soft music hummed in the background. I glanced at Scarlett’s shiny Victrola and grinned.

  “I love decorating.” She slipped off her rose-covered slippers and tucked her feet under her knees. “Like it?”

  “It’s wonderful,” I said as I walked toward her.

  I sat down beside her and hugged her tight. She smelled like cinnamon candy and her favorite floral perfume. “You’re wonderful.”

  “So, did you like the play?” she asked nervously before pulling away.

  “It was magical. You played Juliet to a T.”

  “Maybe we should call up the boys to bring over beer and help us celebrate . . .”

  I gave her a pointed look.

  “Or we could get some for ourselves,” she sighed. “Most of the guys are cellar smellers anyway.”

  “But . . . I just want to be with you tonight.”