My pulse skitters when his gaze sweeps over me, a breeze teasing my bare midriff at the same time his eyes do, and I don’t know which is more responsible for the visible shiver that passes through me.
As if he notices, Joshua drops his eyes to the ground. His head is still dipped when he brings his gaze back to mine. “Sprinklers are coming on any minute.”
“Yeah?” The wind almost drowns out my voice, but I’m too relaxed to speak up. I turn back to the sky. “Are you always up this early?”
“Not always.” His words drift at the end like he’s trying to decide if he’s done talking or not. “It’s a weekend thing, I guess.”
“A weekend thing,” I repeat, as though saying it myself will help me understand.
“Yeah ...” He pauses, and I know he’s debating how much he wants to share again. Maybe that’s why I feel a tingle in the pit of my stomach every time he gives me more. “I, uh ... I can’t always sleep. It’s worse on the weekends.”
My gaze drifts back to him, and he’s staring up at the sky. He squints like he’s trying to see what’s up there. Even from here, in this lighting, I can see it. The dark eyes, tense posture, hard angles. It’s like he’s carrying a thousand-pound weight.
“What are you looking at?” he asks after a minute.
Facing the sky again, I close my eyes. “Come here and see.”
“You know something, Blue?” he says lazily.
My fingers curl into the grass at the way his deep voice reaches under my skin, warming me like a small fire against the cold wind. “Mmm?”
“You’re bossy for a hippie.”
I laugh, and the noise carries away on the breeze. For a long while, Joshua doesn’t make a sound. Just when I start to wonder if he’s left, the air stirs, and I feel the heat of his body as he sits on my left.
“You have to lie down,” I whisper.
“Maybe I am.”
My lips lift. “You’re not.” Even with my eyes closed, I can sense the tension curled around him, caging him in. It’s heavy in a way that reminds me of Mom, and I wish for their sakes they could let whatever it is go.
I hear him rub his palms on his pants, then he quietly says, “What does it matter if I lie down or sit up?”
“It doesn’t. But you wanted to know what I’m looking at, and you’ll see something else from up there.”
He blows out a breath, but after a second, he lies beside me. His warm arm brushes mine, skin to skin. Hard muscles go tense against me. My spine straightens.
Slowly, I open my eyes.
“So. What are we looking at?”
I stare up with him, taking in the brightening expanse above us. “You tell me.”
He lets out a dry half-laugh. Still fixed on the sky, he shakes his head. “You always speak in code?”
I laugh again, then roll onto my side, resting an elbow in the grass and my cheek in my palm so I’m looking right at him. My face hovers above his, my hair falling around us, and he angles his chin so he can meet my gaze. For a while, we study each other, his eyes sweeping over me. There’s something about him. It makes my stomach dip with wild butterflies and my blood surge with warmth. My neck and hands feel hot, but I hold his stare anyway.
“Close your eyes,” I say softly.
He arches a brow, his eyes dropping to my mouth. “Kinda hard to see with my eyes closed.”
My lips curve, but I shake my head before leaning back. “My mom taught me that sometimes, if you can’t tell what you’re looking at with your eyes open, you need to backtrack. Close them, and you might figure out what’s right in front of you.”
He gives me a strange look as if we’re from two different planets, but he turns back to the sky anyway. Exhales through his nose. And closes his eyes.
Then I squeal. Icy water shoots from the sprinklers, drenching our clothes and hair, and Joshua jumps to his feet while I sit up.
“What the—?Jesus.” His jaw is hard as he drags both hands through his soaked hair, water still showering him when he flicks his irritated gaze to me.
