Hunter just looks at me with ano shit, Sherlocklook on his face, and I laugh.
“Sorry,” I say.“I explain a lot of things to eight-year-olds.”
“I assumed that waswhyI was looking through a telescope,” he says, a smile in his voice.
He’s standing up straight, his hands in his pockets, gazing intently at the horizon.After a while he points.
“It’s one of those, right?”he says.
He’s pointing at a sky full of stars on a dark night.It’s hard to tellwhichone he thinks it is.
“It’s sort of down there,” I say.“See Mars?”
I point.He moves in, closer to me.My stomach flips and I swallow.
“It’s the one that’s a little bit red,” I say.“Right near the horizon, right above the branches of that tall tree that got struck by lightning a couple years ago.”
“Because I know which tree got struck by lightning.”
“It’s the one without leaves on top,” I tease.“I thought one of the Canyon Country Hotshots might know what a struck tree looked like.”
“It’s full dark with no moon, you know,” he says.
He moves closer, standing behind me.We’re not touching, but it’s just a technicality, because he’s leaning over my shoulder and so close I can feel his body heat.
Then, after a moment: “Okay, I think I’ve got it.That one?”
He reaches over my other shoulder and points right at Mars.We’re still not touching, but my heart is beating about a thousand times a minute, because my dumb body rememberseverythingand it wants me to put my cheek against his, lean back against his chest.
“Now, look a little down and to the right,” I say.“That’s Antares, another bright star.”
He points at the wrong thing, and I grab his forearm, gently point him at the right one.
“Okay,” Hunter says.He’s so close I can feel the vibrations of his voice.
“Now, go up a little, and see the third star kinda making a triangle?”
I move his arm again, until he’s pointing to Saturn.
“That’s it,” I say.
There’s a long moment where we both just look at the two planets and the star, right above the horizon.He moves his arm, and for a moment I think he’s going to drape it over my shoulder, because that’s what hewouldhave done, back then.
He puts it back in his pocket instead.I try not to be disappointed.
“Can I tell you something?”he asks.
“Of course,” I say.My stomach twists, and I rock a little on my heels, fighting my urge to lean back against him, let him wrap his arms around me.
“When I got back from the desert, I was surprised that we’ve got the same stars,” he says.
The desertis Afghanistan.He was calling it that before we ever broke up.
“Not exactly,” I say.
“I was surprised we’vemostlygot the same stars, then,” he says.“I didn’t know the sky depended on latitude, not longitude.”
“You learn something new every day,” I say, because I have no idea what else to say.
