When the Stars Lead to You Read online

  His broad smile made his entire being light up. “You’re not pulling away.”

  I snuggled into his shoulder. Mmm, he smelled so good—cool and clean, like a fresh waterfall. “I guess not.”

  We watched a group of girls take selfies in front of the pool. A guy to the left of us offered a hit off his bong, which Ashton refused. Then he squirmed. “I always feel so out of place at these things.”

  I nodded. “I used to love parties. But now? Give me Netflix and junk food, please.”

  “Exactly! Okay. If we were watching Netflix right now, what would be on the screen?”

  “Hold on. Is this a Netflix-and-chill situation, or are we actually watching something?”

  “It’s a legit binge session.”

  “Hmm.” I twirled a stray curl, thinking. “What do you watch with your friends?”

  “My best friend and I like totally different things,” he said. “He likes to watch people eating weird shit. I watch sitcoms. What about you? What do you watch with your friends?”

  “Romantic comedies,” I said without missing a beat. “But what would I watch with you?” I tapped my lip. “Since we don’t know each other that well yet, I’ll say something funny, like stand-up. But not raunchy stand-up. Because that could get awkward.”

  “Makes sense. I like it. And we’d have popcorn and M&M’s and chocolate chip cookies.”

  “Yes! Perfect!” I snuggled closer and intertwined my hand with his. “I wish…”

  I could smell the mint on his breath. Could practically taste the saltiness of his skin. “What do you wish?” he whispered.

  I never got to finish that thought. A loud crash came from just inside the door, followed by a lot of yelling. Then the beer pong game got louder, the splashing in the pool got rowdier…

  “… and someone just puked in the hot tub.” Ashton frowned, his face a slight green.

  “I think that’s our cue.”

  He squeezed my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We left the party and headed down to the public beach. It was empty and dark, except for a few red lights bobbing farther down the shore. We found a quiet spot right in front of the dunes. I kicked off my sandals and stretched my legs. Arcturus had long set by now, but there were still so many other stars.

  The cool sea breeze felt good on my warm skin. My entire body flushed because Ashton and I were alone. Even if nothing else came out of tonight, I wanted to kiss him. So much.

  “I have to know all about you,” he said to me.

  “Ask me anything.”

  “I’ll start small. What’s your favorite color?”

  “Purple. But not any purple. More like a mix between lilac and lavender silk with sunlight shining through it.”

  He scrunched his nose. “That is oddly specific.”

  “What’s yours?”

  “Changes with my mood, I guess. Green or blue when I’m calm, red when I’m pissed.”

  “So if I see you wearing red, I should steer clear?”

  He laughed, showing off those perfect teeth. “I don’t know if it’s that deep. What music do you listen to?”

  I traced swirls in the sand with my toes. “My best friend turned me on to classical, but I also like R & B and pop. And sometimes I listen to show tunes.”

  His face lit up. “Like Broadway?”

  “My dad plays the cast albums all the time. Rent is my favorite.”

  “Hamilton for me. It’s so good. But I like Rent, too.” He started humming the melody to “One Song Glory.”

  “You have a good humming voice,” I said. “Do you sing?”

  “All the time.” He gave me a pointed look. “When I’m alone.”

  “One day you’re going to sing for me,” I said, “and you’re going to like it.”

  He bopped my nose. “We’ll see about that.”

  “What other music do you like?” I asked.

  “Hip-hop.”

  “What is it with white boys loving hip-hop? You don’t rap, do you?”

  “God, no. Rapping is not my lane. I just listen and learn.”

  I nodded in appreciation. “Okay.”

  He grew serious, his eyes still on mine. “Tell me more.”

  This time the words came easier. I told him about how I visited my cousin here at the beach every year. I told him my favorite foods (sushi and sub sandwiches), that I loved burning incense, and that I hated the sound of people chewing. That I earned the money for my first telescope by doing odd jobs for my neighbors, and that I loved being an only child. I told him how I cried every morning my first week of kindergarten, and about the time I wet myself in second grade because mean old Miss Bradley refused to give me the hall pass.

  “I’ve never told anyone half this stuff,” I admitted.

  He brushed a curl behind my ear. “I’m glad I was the first.”

  It was silly and weird and a bit scary how the words flew out of me like butterflies, even when I was recounting my most embarrassing moments. How he seemed interested in getting to know me instead of only interested in getting off.

  “I want to ask you one more thing,” he said.

  “Go for it.”

  “Say we’re watching Netflix, but now we know each other way better. What would you binge with me?”

  “Documentaries.”

  He paused. “Seriously?”

  “The ones about the universe and space.”

  He nodded slowly. “I get it. That stuff’s cool.”

  I picked up some sand and let it fall through my fingers. “You think so? Because I want to tell you something else about me.”

  Ashton leaned back on his elbows. Totally relaxed. “Go for it.”

  I took a deep breath. “I love the stars.”

  He sat up again and fully fixed his attention on me. So I kept going. “I live for the stars. And one day, I’m going to be an astrophysicist.”

  He smiled in wonder. “Wow. You’re beaming. I love it. So is astrophysics like astronomy?”

  “It’s a part of it. It deals more with the nature of heavenly bodies. Things like what galaxies, red giants, and black holes are made of. How long they’ve been out there, and what they mean for us, as humans. Or I can go all theoretical and focus on things like time travel.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “I want to solve the mysteries of deep space. And I want to discover new worlds.”

  His mouth shaped into an O. “This has got to be the coolest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “I can go on and on,” I warned him. “You might not think it’s so cool then.”

  “Try me.”

  So I did. I talked about the stars and physics and deep space. I talked about all the things I’d have to study, like geometry, calculus, and physics. “I want to get my doctorate,” I said.

  Ashton’s expression was steady. As if he actually gave a damn about what I dreamed about. Most people glazed over when I got too into it. But he listened.

  He nodded, his eyes still on me. “Dr. Devon.”

  “Kearney. Dr. Devon Kearney,” I said.

  “Devon Kearney, PhD,” he said, smiling. “Has the perfect ring to it. I can’t wait till you get there.”

  “If I get there.”

  “You will. I believe in you.”

  That’s when my physical attraction shifted into something more: I wanted to be his friend, too.

  I lightly poked his shoulder. “If I’m spilling all my secrets, it’s only fair you tell me all yours.”

  “But you know that means we’ll have to spend more time together,” he said. Then he got really quiet. “I’d like that. A lot. Would you?”

  I didn’t even hesitate. “I would.”

  -Then-

  MOST PEOPLE PROBABLY THINK WAKING UP AT THE CRACK of dawn during summer vacation is plain nonsense, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Every morning, I let the lightening sky kiss my eyelids until they fluttered open, then I bounced out of bed, ready to embrace the day.

  The kitchen w
as quiet while I poured hot tea into a to-go cup. Then I grabbed my beach bag and headed down. The sea breeze blew curls around my face, and the rising sun warmed my skin while showing me a sky full of pastel swirls.

  Morning yoga, in my opinion, was the very best yoga, and I loved doing Sun Salutations while dawn bloomed.

  Every day, once my practice was over, my stomach would announce itself in the most obnoxious way, so I’d head back for breakfast. By now, the household would be up. Uncle Steven already off to the restaurant to fire things up for the morning rush. Aunt Susan hopping onto her bike to start her day at the souvenir shop. Stephanie frying bacon and scrambling eggs, grumbling about having to be up so early (to help in her mom’s souvenir shop) even though by now it was already 8:00 AM.

  Except today, she was smirking when I walked in the door. “Someone’s here for you.”

  “What? Oh!”

  “Hi,” Ashton said. He was sitting at the kitchen table, flipping a fork through his fingers. “Sorry for randomly showing up like this. I couldn’t sleep, so I took a walk, and…”

  “You just happened to end up here?” Stephanie’s eyes flashed with mirth.

  “Something like that,” he murmured, then turned to me. “Do you wanna hang out?”

  My breath quickened and I tingled all over.

  Because, um. Hell yes.

  “I need to grab a shower, if you don’t mind waiting a bit,” I said.

  Stephanie set a plate of food in front of him. “This should keep him busy.”

  Quick shower. Brush teeth. Hair in ponytail. Throw on bathing suit with sundress on top. Comfortable sandals. And… go.

  Ashton had just put his clean dish in the rack when I came back out. I grabbed a muffin, then turned to him. “Ready?”

  He took my hand. “Let’s go.”

  “It just occurred to me,” I said as we strolled along the boardwalk, “the only things I know about you are your favorite color, you have a horse, and you like Hamilton.”

  Ashton frowned thoughtfully. “Honestly, you’re not missing much. I’m not that fascinating.”

  “I don’t believe that. Plus, turnabout is fair play.”

  He stopped walking. “Turna-who what now?”

  “You had a turn to learn about me. It’s my turn to learn about you.”

  A slow nod. “What do you want to know?”

  We sat on a bench. I pulled out my muffin and inhaled deeply. Mmm, strawberry. “Tell me the weird things,” I said. “Do you have terrible handwriting? Do you pick your nose and eat it? That sort of thing.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “What the hell?”

  “It’s important.”

  “It’s gross.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Are you going to answer the question, though?”

  “I don’t pick my nose and eat it, Devon. Where did you even come up with that?”

  “I always wonder random things about people. For instance.” I pointed to a blond woman bouncing a chubby blond baby. “Do you think she snores? Or eats onions?”

  He tilted his head sideways. “I’m going to say she snores when she’s got a cold, and she only eats Vidalia onions.”

  I turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Wow. You’re better at this than I expected.”

  “I mean, it’s kind of fun,” he said. “What about that guy over there? Do you think he’s ever slipped on a banana peel?”

  “Totally. And he’s the type to fart and blame the dog. But. We are getting off topic. Do you snore? Or eat onions?”

  “I’ll pretty much eat whatever you put in front of me, and I don’t snore. I’ve tripped over shoelaces, but never a banana peel.”

  “How do you know you don’t snore?”

  “It’s just a feeling I have,” he said with a cocky grin.

  Here is something else I learned about Ashton that day: He was kind of musical. There was always change or keys jangling in his pocket as he walked. He constantly bopped his head to some tune only he could hear. He drummed his fingers on his thighs when he was concentrating. Sometimes he drummed his fingers on me—my arm when he wanted to show me something. Or just while he was looking at me, before breaking into a slow smile.

  He couldn’t keep his hands still. Either it was the drumming or he was flipping a pen or a toothpick or a straw between his fingers. Almost like a meditation.

  Because he drifted away. Often. His eyes focused on something I couldn’t see. Like now, at dinner. I watched him as he sat, myriad pensive expressions dancing across his face.

  “Dollar for your thoughts,” I said.

  Those brown eyes swung toward me. “A dollar? You know the phrase is ‘penny,’ right? They aren’t even worth that much.”

  I reached over and touched his hand. “I don’t believe that.”

  He looked at me, his expression curious, but I didn’t get a chance to read too much into it before the waiter brought us our food.

  “Okay. Here’s something weird about me,” Ashton said while we were eating. Sitting on the same side of the table in a diner booth because we were already somehow becoming that couple. “I like the sound of paper crumpling. Right by my ear. It relaxes me.”

  Without thinking, I reached up and stroked his earlobe. “What else do you do to relax?”

  He sighed and leaned into my hand. “I play video games. A super-violent one when I’m mad. Sometimes I play one where I control virtual people, but that one’s a total time suck.” He paused, then let out a deep breath. “Right now, my favorite is one I don’t tell anyone about because it’s a cute game, and my friends and I don’t do cute games.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous. You like what you like.”

  “Yeah, doesn’t quite work that way.”

  Then he got really quiet.

  The minutes ticked by as he picked at his chicken strips.

  “Where do you go?” I asked him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you get quiet like that.”

  “Oh.” He stole one of my tater tots and popped it into his mouth. “I’m right here with you. The only place I want to be.”

  -Then-

  AFTER FOUR WEEKS, OUR ROUTINE HAD BECOME FAMILIAR, and I wondered how I’d ever filled my summer days before Ashton came along. Most mornings, he’d show up for breakfast, and then, hand in hand, we’d stroll down the boardwalk. Or we’d run down to the beach and swim in the ocean for hours. By now, his hair had lightened from all the sun, and my skin had darkened to a deep tawny.

  Some days, Ashton was animated, and he went on a mile a minute about anything and everything. His favorite video game, which he now played on his phone in front of me with zero shame. The latest dumpster fire on Twitter. Some messed-up thing Todd had said to him or tried to rope him into. On our best days, we sang lyrics from Rent to each other.

  Other times, he was quiet. Subdued. Content to listen to the surf crashing as the tide rose, to take deep breaths of the crisp salty air. I’d reach over and tweak his nose, and he’d turn to me with the gentlest smile before lightly planting a kiss on my temple.

  He’d been busy today, doing something with his family that he didn’t seem to want to share much about. By the time he picked me up, he was reflective, but he didn’t seem too far away as he held out his hand. “Let’s walk.”

  Right before sunset, we made our way down to a quiet part of the beach. “Be careful where you step,” he said. “There might be jellyfish.”

  We found a safe spot far away from the surf. I pulled a beach blanket from my bag, and then Ashton and I cuddled close, watching the fiery dusk descend and a full moon rise. The temperature had dropped, and I shivered as the sea breeze cut through my shawl.

  He slid his arms around me, and with a happy sigh, I settled against him. I loved this. His fingertips stroking my shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest with his breath. Being so close to him.

  Pure heaven.

  It had been four weeks since we’d first laid eyes on each other, and I was fallin
g for him.

  I should’ve been cautious. But I didn’t want to be. Because I was falling for him.

  “Hey, Dev?”

  I smiled. Weirdly enough, no one had ever shortened my name like that, and I loved the way he sounded when he did it. There was a tenderness in his voice that made me shiver all over.

  “What do you think we’d be watching on Netflix now?” he asked.

  “Baking shows.”

  He stared at me in disbelief. “What?”

  I nodded. “Yes. We’d be watching people make fancy cakes and try not to drop them. Or we’d be watching that show about all the people trying to make stuff and epically failing. Or House Hunters. Why? What would you choose?”

  He blinked several times. “You’d pick House Hunters?”

  “Without hesitation.”

  “But that’s not even on Netflix.”

  I pointed to him. “Aha! Only someone looking for it would know that!”

  “Look, I’m not ashamed to say I enjoy watching people get all bent out of shape over stupid shit like pedestal sinks and space for entertaining.”

  And out of nowhere, my brain decided to pop in an image of Ashton and me, looking for our own place. What silly things would we squabble over? What would be the one dramatic hard line one or both of us would have to take, just so there’d be drama?

  What the hell was I thinking about this for?

  To cover my thoughts, I snatched his phone. “How do you even play this game you love so much?”

  “You meet neighbors, stock materials, grow things. Do cute little quests.”

  I squinted at the screen. “Is this FarmVille?”

  He stared at me as if I’d grown two heads. “It’s Harvest Dreams.”

  “Oh,” I said. “It is cute.”

  “Let me set up a profile for you.”

  While he did that, I stared up at the sky. Clouds were rolling in and the sea was getting choppy. A storm was coming.

  Two failed quests later, I was done for the night. I handed him back his phone, which he dropped into the pocket of his shorts. “You’re new,” he said. “We can try again tomorrow.”

  “No thanks. My special talent is being defeated by every single video game ever created.”