I nodded and followed him, still half bundled up in sleep, until we stepped out onto the deck. “Oh.” I turned my head to the stars. “This iswonderful.”
Above us, meteors streaked across the black-velvet sky. I’d never seen so many at once, or so easily. Out here, in the dark of night, there was no competition for their brightness.
Ethan tilted his face up too. “Wow.”
For a moment we watched the darting light, too absorbed to speak. Then Ethan spread out a blanket he’d had the foresight to bring, and we lay down on it.
Side by side, yet with a careful border of space between us, we watched the meteors. Yet for the first time, they couldn’t hold allmy attention. I was too aware of how much I wanted to bridge the gap between me and Ethan; my desire to touch him was so strong I felt almost paralyzed by it. Why was it so easy for me to make a move on a stranger, but almost impossible when I genuinely liked someone?
And god, I liked Ethan. So much.
“Are you cold?” he asked after a minute.
I eyed him. “Maybe.”
“Lift up.” He nudged at my shoulders, and when I did, he slipped his arm under them and pulled me closer. My whole body seemed to exhale, relieved to finally be in contact with him. My head rested on his chest, and I curled toward his side. I could feel my heart pounding. Could feel his, too, and the hard press of his chest against my cheek, and the edge of his chin against my head.
“Much better,” he said softly.
Too oddly shy to speak, I nodded, and crept my hand across his chest so I was hugging him. We lay there, breathing, figuring out how to fit into each other. Watching the light above us.
“Make a wish,” I said.
“You too.”
What would I wish, on a shooting star, on a dozen of them? There were enough to grant every wish I’d ever had, if I could pull them all together.
At the beginning of the summer, I would have said I wanted my father to spend the summers at home. With me.
During the middle, I would have said I wanted him to respect me. To be impressed by me.
But now…I wanted him to be happy.
And…I shot a glance at Ethan, who stared firmly at the firmament. I wanted to be happy, too. I wanted to be with Ethan, I wanted it to work between us. But in all practicality, I knew it wouldn’t. I was a good time, not a long time.
“What’s your wish?” he whispered.
“What’s yours?” I whispered back.
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he traced the curve of my cheek, my ear, my chin. His eyes were almost black in the darkness, but his touch was tender. He bent his head and kissed me, sweet, then fierce, his hands pulling me closer, his body blazingly hot. An answering heat burned in my own body, a kind of desperation, and I pressed myself as close to Ethan as I could. It didn’t feel possible to get close enough. I wanted his hands, his touch, everywhere. I felt as though my body contained the stars in the sky, jolts of fire, wild and reckless. I wanted to devour him. He wanted the same, I imagined, from the press of his body, the low groan in his throat.
We stayed out there, under the blanket of night and fire in the sky, for hours. When I fell asleep, it was with my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, that strange bloody muscle to which we attributed so much.
***
“Good morning.”
I opened my eyes, sticky with sleep sand, and found Cora’s facelooking down at me from above, the rising sun gilding her crown of braids. “Err,” I said, and yawned.
“Ah, to be young,” she said glibly, sipping from the cup of coffee she cradled in both hands. “My back would never survive a night on a ship’s deck.”
“We came up to watch the meteor shower.” I rubbed my eyes. “Good morning.” I poked Ethan in the side. I hadn’t expected to fall asleep again, but what could I say, I was no match for the lulling motion of a ship and slept debt. “Wake up.”
“They’re pretty great.” Cora nodded to the east. “So’s this.”
“Wow,” I said, catching sight of the sun on the horizon. I patted Ethan’s cheek. “Wake up, you don’t want to miss this.”
“Sleeeep,” Ethan groaned, eyes still shut.
