The sudden movement startled me, and I reached instinctively for my seatbelt, snapping it into place. As the memory of the last time I’d been in his car surfaced, I glanced over at him. I didn’t get the chance to say anything. Austin was already pulling his own seatbelt across his chest with one hand, the other steady on the wheel. Once it clicked into place, he caught me watching. He met my eyes and gave me a quick wink. My stomach lifted like it had forgotten gravity existed.
In the backseat, Cherry and Levi were entirely in their own world. Their voices were low, threaded with laughter I could barely make out, and the smile on my face only grew wider because of it. The energy in the car washed over me. It felt like the first night of summer break when you were a kid. That kind of warmth. That kind of buzzing excitement that settled into your bones and made everything feel possible. Only this didn’t stop at my skin. It sank straight into my soul. There was happiness in this car, and it was building, swelling, like it might never reach a peak because it didn’t need one.
Austin didn’t talk as we drove. He just followed my directions with small nods, trusting them without question. Still, I caught the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. Like he was memorizing something.
“Here,” I said finally, gesturing toward the side of the road.
Austin’s confusion was immediate and completely justified. We were well outside the city now, surrounded by nothing but open fields stretching into the dark. “Here?” he asked, doubt written plainly across his face.
And as if Cherry had been mentally absent the entire drive until that exact second, her voice suddenly cut in. “Here?” she echoed. “Oh, Blair. Not here. Not again. Seriously?”
“What?” I asked honestly, turning toward her. I couldn’t understand the problem. This place was my favorite.
“There are bugs here,” Cherry pouted.
“It’s worth it,” I said calmly, my eyes flicking back to Austin. He was still studying the road, clearly leaning toward Cherry’s side of the argument. “It’s worth it,” I repeated, this time just for him.
His gaze shifted to my face. Whatever he saw there made his hesitation disappear almost instantly. I opened the car door before he had time to respond. I didn’t look back as I headed toward the field to our right. Even with only the moon and stars lighting the way, I could picture the bright green grass in my mind. I’d been here so many times that I could probably paint it from memory if I tried.
“Yellow,” Austin called, and I heard him jog to catch up with me. My steps were quick, fueled by anticipation. I wanted him to see it. I wanted to give him something that was mine. His hand slid over mine, fully covering my skin, blocking out the warm summer air. “What about this field is worth it?” he asked.
“You showed me the waterfall,” I said, fighting the way my stomach fluttered as his fingers tightened gently around my hand. “It’s only fair if I show you something just as beautiful.”
“You already have,” he replied easily, matching my pace. His stride was longer than mine. I could tell he was holding himself back.
“What?” I asked, genuinely confused. I ran through every moment we’d spent together, coming up empty. “No I haven’t.” Iglanced at him, searching his face for some kind of explanation. Instead, he laughed softly, shaking his head.
“You, Yellow,” he said. “You showed me you.”
“Oh,” I breathed, every clever response abandoning me at once. “Thank you.”
His mouth curved in a way that told me he was remembering something. Something he’d said before. “You’re welcome.”
If I hadn’t known the ground ahead was clear, I might have felt nervous walking like this. Neither of us were watching where we stepped. Our attention stayed locked on each other, like the rest of the world had quietly stepped aside. After what felt like minutes but was really only seconds, the earth shifted beneath my feet. The flat grass gave way to uneven ground, and I knew we were close. I pulled my gaze from him and tugged his hand, guiding us up the gentle incline. He followed without question, still watching me like I was leading him somewhere sacred.
“Here,” I said once we reached the top. My body relaxed instantly. The sky stretched endlessly before us, black and vast, scattered with millions of stars. No buildings. No streetlights. Just open darkness filled with glittering points of light, waiting to be seen.
“Wow,” Austin said when he finally looked away from me. “Fuck. That’s beautiful.”
“Yeah,” I nodded, letting the sight sink into me. The same feeling stirred in my chest, the one I’d tried to explain when I told him about the mountains. Looking up at something so enormous made me feel impossibly small.
“It was worth it,” Austin murmured. He released my hand and stepped behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist andpulling me back against his chest. A shaky breath left me before I could stop it. I felt tiny like this. Held. And suddenly I realized that he made me feel the same way the stars did. The same way the mountains had. Small. Safe. In awe.
“I told you it would be worth it,” I sighed. The words triggered a memory before I could stop it. “You know…” My voice trailed off.
“What, Yellow?” he whispered near my ear.
“I knew someone once,” I said quietly. “A long time ago. He said the same thing when he brought me here.” I felt Austin still behind me. Just barely. Enough to notice.
“What did he say?” he asked.
I breathed quietly, remembering. “He said,I told you it would be worth it.”
“He brought you here?” Austin asked, and this time I could hear the edge of jealousy threaded through his voice. “Who was he? A boyfriend?” I almost laughed at his tone. Not because his insecurity was funny, but because he was jealous of someone I had known so long ago. Someone who existed in a version of my life that felt almost imaginary now. Didn’t Austin realize? I had never met anyone like him.
“No,” I shook my head. “He wasn’t a boyfriend. Just a friend.”
“I see,” Austin said. There was still a hint of jealousy there, but most of it had softened. “Are you two still close?”
