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Like the girl in the subway ad.

I feel small, insignificant, and somehow infinite, like I could do anything, be anything. Like nothing matters and everything matters all at once.

The breeze stings my cheeks, and that’s how I find out I’m crying.

Chapter 10

Nick

Ellery steps away from the camp, even though I explicitly told her not to wander off. She goes to the far edge of the lake, beyond the campfire. Her face is tipped to the stars and the green light washes over her.

No doubt, she’ll take a selfie to send home, showing everyone how she’s communing with nature. But she doesn’t reach for her phone at all. Just stands there and looks with an expression that’s familiar. It’s the same way I feel about it.

With one eye on the forest behind her, I follow. Earlier, I walked the perimeter of this site, nose to the wind for anything lurking in the area, and found nothing. Doesn’t mean there’s not something out here.

Moving quietly isn’t something I have to think about anymore. I make noise on purpose when I’m close enough to startle her.

“First time seeing them?” I stand beside her, a good three feet between us. She’s almost a head shorter than me, even with the tufted beanie.

“Is it that obvious?” Her eyes are glued to the sky, avoiding mine. “It’s so…” She struggles for the right words.

“We should get the guests loaded.” It comes out rougher than I mean it to. “Tour’s nearly over.”

She’s seen the aurora. She’s had her experience. She can go home now.

She takes her time about it. Nods and goes back to the fire without finishing what she was going to say.

Ellery offers the guests a cup of cocoa for the road as they pile into the van. The group falls into a quiet lull as we rumble along the dirt roads back to Fairbanks, the late hour catching up to them. A short time later, Donald is snoring in the back while Yuki and Kenji whisper to each other.

We drop everyone off in reverse. Lars hugs Ellery goodbye, and they swap Instagrams or something. Apparently, they both love the same German DJ. Even old Donald came around, after she handed him a reindeer hot dog and asked whether he’d ever been inside one of the turbines. She actually wanted to know. By the time she’s promising Yuki and Kenji dinner in Osaka, I wonder if she’s better at this job than I am. The people parts at least, which are my least favorite parts.

She climbs up front as I start the engine. Cranks the heat, plugs her phone into the stereo like she owns the place, and hits play. Electropop spills out of my speakers, and I hold in a sigh.

The aurora took some of the tension out of the air, and I’d rather have it back. Beside me she relaxes into the seat with a contented smile on her face.

Before we get onto the road to Ravenslight, I reach for the stereo and jab at the power button to turn it off. From her coat pocket she pulls a wad of cash and counts out half. The guests gave her generous tips.

“Here.” She holds it out under my nose.

“You keep it. You earned it.” I flip the blinker and pull into the turn.

“Tips get split. That’s how it works in every restaurant in Manhattan. But thank you.”

Vanilla and her steady heartbeat, and something below that I can’t name. It eases the coil in my chest and I don’t like it at all.

I lower my window a crack. Every other night, I’d have all four down by now.

I put hers down an inch too.

She lowers it all the way and sticks her palm out into the frigid air.

The cold gets to her after a few minutes and she closes it up, rubbing her hands over the vent, turned toward it like a plant. Everything she does, she does with her whole self.

She catches me glancing at her and puts the window right back down, sinking lower into the seat until the collar of her coat reaches her ears. She’d rather freeze than give me the satisfaction.

The windows stay down all the way home.

Eventually, I slow to a stop outside the apartment she’s renting from my mom.