But years of no contact had made them ghosts. They recognized but were no longer intimate with the figure beside them. She probably thought if he’d missed her, he would have done something about it. And when he didn’t, she had taken his silence as final. She didn’t know that by the time he’d gotten up the courage to call her, as his finger hovered over her number, which he’d kept all that time, Nate had called to say Avery was engaged. Miles had waited too long.
His gaze shifted to the horizon just as the space station arrived. Her gaze followed. Miles let her call it because he remembered Avery’s joy in finding what she searched for. She pointed to the light moving over the horizon.
“There it is!” She wiggled with excitement.
Together they watched the bright light rise into the sky, their necks gradually falling back until they had no choice but to lie on the dock.
As they settled back, he dropped his hand next to hers. The simple brush of their pinkies set his insides buzzing. His head reeled with a thousand thoughts of how to convey how much he had missed her.
“Miles,” she said.
“Mmm,” he answered.
“As your friend, I feel like I need to tell you to go on more second dates. And some third and fourth dates. Until you go on so many, you lose count.”
An acrid taste rose in his throat at the suggestion of dating anyonebut her. It was dark enough she might not have seen him nod anyway, as if considering her advice.
“It’s not like I should give relationship advice, but I think the secret must be getting past the mirage,” she said, staring at the sky. “It takes time to grow something.”
“Right,” he said. “Thank you.”
And then, as if making a promise, he extended his pinkie finger and wrapped it around hers. She squeezed back and kept it there. A tear stung in his eye at the realization she still wanted to be friends. That was more than she’d wanted a month ago. But still not enough.
“How fast are they going?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“Five miles per second.”
“I wonder if it feels that fast on the inside.”
Five miles per second felt like the speed at which his heart had fallen to earth at the word “friend.”
Resting on the dock, they gazed at the only moving star in the sky, which wasn’t a star at all. It was a series of heartbeats inside of a flimsy shell, hurtling through an endless abyss at five miles per second, constantly circling the only life it had ever known. Its occupants would return transformed.
He wasdifferent now too. Maybe he could be a better man for her.
He studied her silhouette, her full lips parted in wonder. He wanted to roll on his side and pull her to his chest and capture the way they felt before he’d saved Max Perry’s life and ruined his own.
But he had also ruined hers. And she had put up a wall to protect her heart. Miles knew two ways to take it down. She clearly wasn’t up for a leap of faith. He’d have to disassemble it, brick by brick and slowly, which ran counter to Avery’s love of getting things done.
Just as quickly as it had appeared, the Space Station disappeared over the tops of the tall pines behind them. Avery sat up, their pinkies no longer touching.
Time. They needed time together. And maybe more stars.
She crossed her arms, rubbing up and down her shoulders.
“You cold?” he asked.
“I’m good, it’s fine.”
If everything was fine, she wouldn’t be shivering. Miles took off his flannel and wrapped it around her shoulders. When she moved her arms into the sleeves, he felt a piece of her barrier crumble as she accepted his warmth. The voice in his head told him to take it slowly. So he rose and helped her up.
They walked Casper back to the loft, talking about the space station and how the night sky was so spectacular at the resort. She brought up watching the Perseid meteor shower with him on the floating dock that summer and said she watched it every August. He’d forgotten how much Avery liked simple things. Although he knew she could handle them with grace, red carpets and bright lights would never win her over. She was all about sunsets and stars.
He told her about his fall classes, and she mentioned she had a Zoom with her MBA advisor later in the week to pick her curriculum. Miles felt honored she’d started sharing little bits of her life with him. However she opened up, he’d take it. If he could create more of these moments—the two of them together, no pressure, no outside influence—maybe they had a chance.
Miles didn’t ask for his flannel back. He wanted her to hold on to it. She used to love stealing his clothes. After he’d ended things, she’d left all his clothes in a brown-paper bag in the Mail Jeep. The only thing missing was the sweatshirt he’d given her that first day in Portland. She’d either kept it, lost it, or burned it. He preferred to think she still had it a drawer somewhere and thought of him when she came across it.
At her door, he mentioned three planets—Venus, Mercury and Mars—would align with the moon in the night sky Friday night. And she said she’d set a reminder so she wouldn’t miss it.
