“Really?” I moved closer slowly and peeked over her shoulder. “The shapes are pretty obvious.”
“Not to me. I mean, it’s just a bunch of stars in the sky. You can probably see whatever you want to see.”
“Look at the Borealis.” I pointed at the map. “It’s obviously a crown.”
She laughed—a real laugh, and the knot tightened in my chest. “It does not look like a crown. It looks like an irregular half circle.”
Grinning, I shook my head. “Look. You can see it now easily. That’s a crown. Come on, see the seven stars.”
“I see the seven stars, but I also see about a hundred others peeking out.” She grabbed a pen. “I also see the cookie monster.”
I laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
As I watched her, her lips curved up in a smile as she posed her pen over the grid. It was clear she had no idea what latitude line to start at as she glanced up toward the Borealis. Finally, she connected two dots.
“You know where the name comes from?” I asked.
Shortcake shook her head, so I reached over and took the pen from her. In the process, my fingers brushed hers. A jolt zapped up my arm, and she pulled away immediately. “It represents the crown given from the god Dionysus to Ariadne,” I told her. “When she married Bacchus, he placed her crown in the heavens in honor of their marriage.”
She stared, brows furrowing. “Professor Drage didn’t teach that in class.”
“I know.”
“Then how did you know that?”
“Why don’t you know that?”
She tipped her head to the side, lips pursed.
“Okay. Maybe most people wouldn’t know that off the top of their head.” I twirled her pen. “I actually took part of this class as a freshman, but had to drop it.”
Curiosity filled her brown eyes. “Really?”
I nodded.
“You’re, what, a junior?”
“Yep.” I paused, unsure of how much I should say. “I ended up having to take a year off, which put me behind.”
She was quiet for a few moments “Why did you retake astronomy? Is it a part of your major?”
“No. I just like the class and Professor Drage.” I turned off the flashlight “I’m studying recreation and sport. Would like to get into sport rehabilitation.”
“Oh. Did you . . .”
When she didn’t finish her sentence, I looked over and followed her gaze. On the bench, the two from our astronomy class looked like they were about to practice making babies right then and there.
“Now that is an interesting form of stargazing,” I said.
She watched them for a couple of more moments, her eyes wide like she was trying to figure out exactly what they were doing. Which was obvious. There was a lot of tongue involved.
I poked her with my pen.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just that . . .” I had no idea how to say this. “You’re watching them like . . . you’ve never seen a couple do that before.”
“I am?”
I nodded. “So unless you were raised in a convent, I imagined you’ve been in a lap a time or two, right?”
“No, I haven’t!” She cringed, focusing over the cornstalks. “I mean, I haven’t been in a guy’s lap.”
A grin teased at my lips. “What about a girl’s lap?”
Her mouth dropped open. “What? No!”
I smiled broadly, picturing her in a girl’s lap and that wasn’t a bad image. Made even better when I pictured her in my lap, though. “I was joking, Avery.”
Her chin jutted out stubbornly. “I know, it’s just that . . .”
“What?” I poked her arm with the pen again. “You what?”
“I’ve never been in a relationship.”
Never? Never as in ever? No way.
Clutching her notebook, she glanced at me. “What? It’s not a big deal.”
I opened my mouth, said nothing. I blinked and then shook my head as I tipped my head back, staring at the sky. “You’ve never been in a relationship?”
“No.”
“Nothing?”
“That’s what no means.”
I had no idea what to say. “How old are you?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m nineteen.”
“And you haven’t been in a single relationship?”
“No. My parents . . . they were strict.” She swallowed. “I mean, really strict.”
“I can tell.” I tapped the pen on the notebook, beyond curious, like obsessively curious as to how someone as pretty as Avery made it this far without ever being in a relationship “So have you gone on a date or anything?”
A deep sigh emanated from her. “I thought we were supposed to be mapping stars?”
“We are.”
“No, we’re not. All I have is a scribbly line and you have nothing.”
“That scribbly line is between the Delta and Gamma.” I leaned over, connecting the dots. “Here is the Theta and this is the Alpha—brightest star. See, we are halfway done.”
She frowned, slowly shaking her head as she turned her gaze to the sky. While she was distracted, because I was done with the astronomy shit, I leaned in further, my shoulder pressing into hers as I finished the map, completing our homework assignment.
I turned my head. “Now we’re done mapping stars . . .” Our faces were inches apart, and I heard the soft inhale of breath. She didn’t move away, and my smile went up a notch. “See? That wasn’t hard.”
Avery’s gaze dropped, and I knew she wasn’t paying a damn bit of attention to what was coming out of my mouth even though she was staring at it. Not that I was complaining. She could stare at my mouth all she wanted.
Those thick lashes swept up and our gazes locked once more. A sudden, tangible pull spread out between us. Neither of us moved, and I wanted to. I wanted to pull her into my arms. Where the whole slowing down things went to I had no idea. She moved, visibly uncomfortable, and the good, decent part of me said to look away, to crack a joke and make her feel better, but I couldn’t resist the lure of her eyes. In the darkness, they were like black pools.
I forced myself to say something. “You think you learned anything about the stars?”