“It’s a date and this time, I’ll wear the bib.” She giggled and shimmiedher shoulders. Lying in his arms felt like floating on a star.
As if reading her mind, Miles picked up a flashlight off the seat beside him. Avery smiled to herself. He must’ve planned this night for them.
“I brought you out here to see stars,” he said. “Tell me what you see.”
In her college astronomy class, it had been hard to locate the constellations during the rooftop nighttime exam. The teaching assistant grading her took pity and passed her.
Her finger rose into the air. “Orion’s belt, the Big Dipper, and the Milky Way. I only remember the basics.”
“So follow my light up the Milky Way”—he switched on the flashlight and swept it up the galaxy—“to right there.”
The light stopped near a very bright star.
“That’s Vega, the second brightest star in the sky after Polaris.”
Miles made it so easy to find the stars, he almost plucked them out of the sky for her.
“So Vega is part of the Summer Triangle with Deneb, down there, and Altair, across the Milky Way.”
Avery followed as he aimed the flashlight’s beam at Vega and then Altair.
“Vega was a goddess and Altair a mortal. They fell in love, and Vega promised he’d join her in the heavens one day. But the gods forbade love between a mortal and a goddess.” He turned off the flashlight and put it down, wrapping his arm around her. “When Vega’s father found out, he granted Vega’s wish and hoisted Altair into the heavens, but he placed them on opposite shores of the great Celestial River, the Milky Way as punishment. They’re stuck on either side, with no way to cross.”
Avery stared at the sky. “Wait, that’s so sad.”
“Ayuh.” His hand slid under her shirt and rested on her hip. “Every year on the seventh day of the seventh moon, July seventh, magpies fly into the heavens and form a bridge over the Milky Way so Vega and Altair can cross and reunite for one day.”
Safe in his arms, Avery compared the fate of Vega and Altair to the decade she and Miles had spent apart.
“I couldn’t bear an eternity of seeing you one day a year,” she said. “Waiting ten years to have you every day was worth it.”
He quietly circled his thumb over her hipbone. “I’m not doing that again. That’d be torture.”
She felt a rush at his description of not seeing her as torture.
Miles’s breathing steadied as they stared at the vast sky. The boat swayed a little.
“Does your boat have a name?” she asked.
“Pole Position. It’s already painted on the back.”
Avery sat up and pivoted to face him. “That is not its name.”
“What? It’s the best position to start from in the mile. Or any race.” Due to the crescent moon, she couldn’t get a good look at his face to figure out if he was joking.
“So you don’t like the name?” He sounded serious, but as an avid reader and all-around brainiac, Miles had to understand double entendre.
“I hate to break it to you but”—she giggled—“that name has more than one meaning. Or was that intentional?”
“Oh, you’re cute.” He pulled her face to his and kissed her forehead.
“I think you knew what you were doing,” she murmured, kissing the dip in his clavicle. “Tell everyone whatever you want, but I know the truth.”
Avery shifted off to his side and rolled onto her back, staring up at the sky. Miles pushed himself up and straddled her, hovering over her on all fours.
“You’re the one who thought of it. What’s on your mind, Pepper? Is there something you want tonight?” His hand trailed the length of her inner thigh, each pass moving inward, upward. He licked his lips. Avery’s lips buzzed in anticipation of tasting him again.
“We’re here to stargaze.” She rested a hand on his hip and tugged his waistband. “Except you aren’t looking at the sky.”
