Текст книги "When the Stars Align"
Автор книги: Jeanette Grey
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
Chapter Three
This day was never going to end.
Jo stared down the choices in front of her in their steam trays, each less appealing than the last.
The man behind the counter smiled at her, his accent thick but comprehensible as he asked, “What can I get for you, miss?”
“Is there a… a vegetarian option?” At his frown, she clarified, “No meat?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, miss.”
She probably should have known this was going to be an issue, and she had some contingency plans, but the stash of protein bars in her suitcase was going to get old fast. “Um. Just the rice and the vegetable, then.”
She resolutely ignored the way each of them shone with what was probably lard. Not something she could be picky about right now if she wanted to eat at all.
He passed over a plate full of just what she’d requested, and she gritted out a smile of thanks as she accepted it and placed it on her tray. She grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge to round out her feast and got in line to pay, looking on in both disgust and envy at the girl in front of her, whose plate was swimming in some sort of greasy-looking gravy.
“Vegetarian?” the girl asked, eyeing Jo’s food.
“Yup.”
“Ouch. Sucks to be you.”
The girl had no idea.
Fortunately, her meeting with her advisor—who’d insisted on being called Heather, as opposed to Dr. Simms—had gone well enough. Mostly because Jo had made an effort to keep her trap shut before she made any more shitty first impressions. Her project seemed interesting, and when she’d expressed her hopes about getting something publishable out of the experience, Heather had been receptive. She’d been clear that it would require some extra work, but that was one thing Jo had never shied away from.
Unlike awkward social situations. Which she’d more than had her fill of at this point.
Keeping a stiff upper lip about how annoyed she was to be forking over money for a plate of rice and broccoli, she paid for her meal, then followed the girl who’d been in front of her out the door of the little cafeteria, toward the picnic bench outside where all the other people from her program had assembled.
As the last one there, she had about as many options in her choice of seating arrangements as she had in her menu. Or her room. Taking the open spot on the end, she set down her tray and looked around. She remembered her roommate, Carol’s, name, and she was pretty sure the girl who’d spoken to her in line was Anna. The asshole who kept checking out everybody’s tits was definitely Jared, and the one who never made eye contact was… Tom? Tim? She wasn’t sure.
And two seats down from her was the guy who’d snuck up on her when she’d arrived. The one with the pretty blond hair and the dimples and the shoulders of a god. The one whose advisor was BFFs with hers. Adam. She sure as hell remembered him. He glanced over at her as she settled in but didn’t linger long enough to actually make eye contact, and that didn’t bother her at all. At least he didn’t seem to have mentioned their less-than-awesome meeting to anyone else, because no one had given her any shit for being a total sociopath who couldn’t handle a guy getting within two feet of her without her self-defense training kicking in.
Thank fuck for small favors.
The others were all involved in some sort of conversation, and as she dug in, she kept half an ear open, trying to pick up the thread.
“Dude,” the hornball, Jared, said. “I don’t know anything about astronomy. I don’t even know much physics. I’m an engineer.”
Excuse me?
The redhead at the end of the table seemed to have the same thought, crinkling her brow. “Then how the hell did you end up here?”
Jared shrugged. “My advisor back home was college roommates with P.J. I didn’t have anything going on this summer, so she managed to snag this for me.”
Oh hell no. Indignation rose up, hot and volatile in Jo’s chest. The sciences were supposed to be a meritocracy, but there wasn’t any getting away from all the BS of politics and connections, was there?
It was almost enough to make her regret severing her very best one. Almost.
“Wow,” Carol said. “That was lucky.”
“I guess so,” Jared said.
“I mean, this program is really hard to get into,” Carol argued.
Jared held his hands up in front of him. “As long as it looks good on my résumé. That’s all I really care about.”
Great. Just great. Jo was plenty mindful about the credentials she was building up for herself, too, but you didn’t come to one of the best observatories in the world just for a line on your CV. Not if you didn’t care about the work they were doing there.
Swallowing down the hundred comments she could have made, she concentrated on her food. She just had to sit through this crap for a little while, pretend to be part of the group for as long as it took to finish her dinner, and then she could go back to the lab. Start digging into the binder full of articles Heather had assembled for her. Prove that she was here to do her job.
“It’ll definitely look good on a résumé,” the redhead said after a long pause. “I’m still a little surprised they took you if you don’t have any background in astronomy.”
“My major is physics,” one of the other girls said. “I like astronomy, but we don’t really have a separate department for it, so I haven’t taken any classes in it.”
“Still, though.” The redhead pointed her fork at the girl. “You’re open to the idea of going into it.”
“Sure.” She frowned for a second. “Though I wonder if I would have gotten in if I hadn’t had a connection, too. I met Marcos—the guy I’m working with this summer—at a conference last spring, and we got to talking, and I told him I was looking for a summer thing. He told me to apply here.”
Antisocial boy piped in, “I did my last summer research position at a collaborating university. That probably helped me.”
A beat of quiet passed before another girl said, “The professor I got to write my letter of recommendation used to work here a few years ago. I’m sure it’s not the only reason I’m here, but connections do help.”
“I don’t have any.” Not anymore. Jo heard the words before she’d fully decided to chime in. But then all the faces around the table were pointing at her, and the base of her neck flashed hot. She stared at her last spear of broccoli like it might have the power to turn the clock back a minute or two, but the time stream stayed intact. Stupid broccoli. She clenched her jaw. “I just filled in the application.”
And then she’d cried when she’d gotten her letter, because this was exactly what she’d wanted. This summer here—this was succeeding beyond her wildest dreams. This was getting somewhere on her own blood, sweat, and tears. Long hours in the lab and going half blind from reading textbooks and hunching over a computer screen.
This was light-years beyond what her father would have ever led her to believe she could achieve.
The longest, most awkward pause followed her words, until there was the sound of a throat clearing from the middle of the table. She dared a glance up to see Adam putting down his utensils.
“I’m sure we’re all here on our own merits,” he said, his voice all quiet certainty and peacemaking, and everyone just seemed to hang on his words. “But they had a lot of applicants.” He shot his gaze over at her and then away, looking at each of the other people around the table in turn. “It only makes sense that they would give some weight to references from people they can trust.”
In other words, it wasn’t nepotism. It was just good sense. Right.
“And who vouched for you?” Jo asked.
For the first time since that afternoon, their gazes met, and Christ his eyes were blue. Clear and frank and deep, and for all that she was steel, cold and tempered, there was something in her that went molten in her core.
Keeping his chin high and his gaze steady, he admitted, “My stellar astronomy professor. He co-wrote a paper with Lisa last year.”
So he was making excuses for why it was okay that apparently everyone here except her had secured their place through some kind of connection, and he was just as bad as the rest of them.
And she didn’t know why that was the final straw. Today already, she’d embarrassed herself in front of P.J., made stupid assumptions, accidentally inflicted actual, physical violence on the most attractive man here, been forced to eat rabbit food, and now she was drowning in the consequences of how inbred this whole field of study was, and this guy—this perfect-looking, deep-voiced, peacemaking guy was looking at her like that. Like he had nothing to be ashamed of and like she was being ridiculous. And maybe she was.
Finished with her greasy rice and her overcooked vegetables and this whole conversation and this entire day, she gritted out, “Well, good for you.”
She rose without another look back, just needing some quiet and some space and a minute to think. She dropped her tray off at the window where the same man who had served her was loading dishes into the machine. And she did what she always did.
She retreated to the lab. To where she was safe.
“All right, you guys.” Adam put his hands on his knees as he levered himself up—mostly steadily—to standing. “I’m out.”
The whole gang, except Jo and Tom, had spent the evening in the girls’ house, sitting around their living room, sipping off a smuggled-in bottle of rum and generally just shooting the shit. They were good company, funny and smart in turns, but he wasn’t tipsy and he wasn’t sober, and it was late.
And he shouldn’t, but he had to give it one more try.
“Lame,” Jared said. His head was leaning against Kim’s thigh, and Adam was suddenly really glad he’d happened to pick the room that didn’t share a wall with his.
“I know, I know,” he conceded. He gave a general wave to the room as a whole as he picked his way toward the door. “See you in the morning.”
A couple of the girls were starting to look a little droopy, and they all had big days tomorrow. He felt sort of bad about starting the exodus, but he didn’t doubt things would have wound down soon regardless.
Low murmurs of conversation followed him outside, receding but not quite disappearing when he shut the door behind himself. He took a deep breath and stretched his arms up over his head. It felt good to fill his lungs, good to be alone for a second after a long day. Good to feel the cool, damp air.
Then he looked up at the sky, and “good” fell out of his vocabulary.
Holy shit. He’d been living in the heart of Philly for the past few years, and Tampa before that, and wow. If he’d ever seen a sky like this, he’d forgotten it. The darkness of it seemed to stretch out into infinity, and everywhere were stars. Stars and stars and the brighter lights of satellites and planets, and then this thin, misty wisp of a stripe streaking its way across the center of it all…
He laughed out loud when he realized it was the Milky Way. Their very own galaxy. He’d never lived somewhere with so little light pollution that he could actually see it before, and he ran a hand through his hair as he gazed up at it, staring until his neck started to crick. Christ, all the constellations were different. He picked out the Southern Crown and Delphinus, and then just about smacked himself when he saw what he’d overlooked.
Scorpius. It took up almost the whole damn sky, a perfect, looping spiral of stars, and part of him thought this whole mess of a trip might have been worth it just for this. For feeling like this, out in the night air, looking up at a sky so brilliant it made his chest ache.
This time he had to share it with someone.
He’d known he was going to break down and do it anyway, but it was with less heavy of a heart that he pulled out his phone and scrolled through to Shannon’s contact info. He pressed the button to dial and put the speaker to his ear, strolling over to sit on the bench between the two houses, out of reach of the front porch lights of either. Cloaked in that darkness and gazing upward at the countless points of light, he held his breath for the first two low-pitched rings.
By the third ring, he knew she probably wasn’t going to pick up, but that was okay. He collected himself the best he could. It was good just to hear her voice, even if it was a recording. When it was time to leave his message, he cleared his throat.
“Hey. Hey, it’s me. I know I already texted to tell you I got in okay, but I just… I wanted to say hi. See how you’re doing. Tell you how things are over here. It’s…” How did he describe it all? “It’s good. Hot as balls during the day, but there are some really great people here, and the facility is amazing. I got to meet with Lisa for a bit, too, and I just…” He paused for a second. “It’s so beautiful. I wish you could see it.” And then he broke down—said the thing he wasn’t supposed to say. “I miss you. If, ah, if you don’t have time to call me back, just shoot me an e-mail or text sometime, if you get a chance. Just to let me know you’re all right.”
It was too much concern, considering, but he’d never really been able to stop himself from worrying. Never been able to stop himself from caring, even when it would’ve been easier not to.
“Okay. Well. Good night.” He didn’t say “Talk to you later” because he didn’t know if he would. Instead, he took a breath and hung up.
He leaned back and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Well, that’s done,” he said to no one. To himself.
Movement from over near the girls’ house drew his attention. He looked over, and Jared was spilling out from the open door. He stumbled along and almost tripped over Adam before he seemed to spot him there.
“Oh.” Jared squinted in the darkness. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“What’re you doing out here?” Jared glanced around, as if he were going to find some hidden source of entertainment he’d missed until then. He looked everywhere except up.
Adam chuckled and pointed at the sky. “Just taking a moment.”
Screwing up his face, Jared followed his direction and almost lost his footing in the effort. He righted himself and shot Adam the strangest expression. “Stargazing? By yourself?”
Adam shrugged, remembering Jared’s comments from earlier in the day about how he was an engineer and didn’t really know what he was doing here. “Maybe it’s an astronomer thing.”
“Whatever gets you off,” Jared said, shaking his head.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Good.” Jared shot him finger-guns. “Because that would be super weird.”
“Right.”
With a sloppy salute, the guy set his attention back to walking in a straight line. He mostly succeeded, even. But he didn’t look up again. It made that wistfulness resettle in Adam’s chest.
Jared made it over to the guys’ place, and Adam stayed there, gazing upward, looking over occasionally as one by one, the lights in both houses went out. The tightness behind his ribs eased a little with every one, until he was well and truly alone.
And it was a strange thing, solitude. Back at home, there’d been him and his parents and his brothers, and in college, he’d always had a roommate. Being all alone for any significant length of time had been a rarity, but when it had happened, it’d been both incredible and terrible. Stifling. Like a really nice jacket that never managed to fit quite right.
It fit better than usual right now.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed like that, and he should’ve been bored. Should’ve been exhausted. But there was something about the cool relief of the night and the company of the stars.
And then there were footsteps, crunching on the gravel.
Intellectually, he’d known Jo was still on campus, but looking out toward the road to see her approaching was a jolt. An unexpected interruption to his vigil. She had a binder hugged close to her chest, and there was a certain easiness to her gait he hadn’t seen on her before.
The idea of solitude came back to him as he watched her. It clung to her like a second skin, molding to her every curve, and he hadn’t thought her pretty, necessarily, by light of day. Attractive, sure, but her jaw had been too square and her edges all too sharp. Now, though, she was walking slowly, limbs loose.
Face full of wonder as she stared up at the stars. Unaware she was being observed, and all the more relaxed for it.
And she was beautiful.
He let the silence linger, let himself remain undetected for as long as he dared. Only when she reached the point where she was bound to notice him if she kept going did he clear his throat.
“Quite a view, huh?”
She startled, and yeah, just like that, some of the edges returned, as hard and harsh as they had been before. But earlier he hadn’t known what she looked like when she thought she was alone.
“Yes,” she said, curt as anything, and her gaze darted toward her front door.
“I think they’ve all gone to bed already. You should be safe.” It was like when he’d left the message for Shannon, revealing more than he wanted to.
Her fingers tightened on her binder. All day long, he’d been avoiding looking at her and avoiding her gaze out of… what? Some misplaced sense of pride because she’d gotten the jump on him when he’d tried to show off, helping her with her bags? Because she’d looked away from him first? Well, they were staring right at each other now, and he didn’t know what she saw. He wasn’t even entirely sure what he saw.
But whatever it was, it made him feel less alone.
She blinked first, turning her head to glance toward the girls’ house. “Thanks. I’m going to—”
“Yeah, it’s late.”
“Okay.” She lingered with one foot planted and the other edging away for half a beat. Then with resolve, she turned and stalked off. When she got to the door, she didn’t gaze back at him. But she did take one last, longing look up at the stars.
The door closed behind her, leaving him by himself again.
For the second time that night, he gazed at the galaxy above him. And murmured, “Good night,” to a woman who wasn’t listening.
Chapter Four
Jo shoved her pencil between her teeth, balancing her binder on her knees as she leaned forward and typed another set of coordinates into the terminal window on her computer screen. She glanced at the calendar on the desk beside it. One week to go until her first observing run on the telescope, and she had a lot to do between now and then.
In the week she’d been here so far, she’d dived right in, running through all the background material Heather had assembled for her and learning her way around the systems. She’d even sat in on one of Heather’s sessions with the telescope so she’d be prepared for when it was her turn.
She hadn’t pissed off Heather or killed her roommate or otherwise insulted or injured anyone else in the program. So really, it was all win.
That track record wasn’t going to be easy to hold on to, though. She frowned at the dates highlighted in blue on that calendar. Field trips¸ Dr. Galloway had called them. The whole gang was piling into cars and heading to the beach and the rain forest and even some random little island off the coast for an overnight escapade, and it was fine. Great. She’d always wanted to see the rain forest. But it was also concentrated time in cars and exotic locations with people. And it was time away from work.
Speaking of time away from work…
Jo looked up at the sound of a tentative knock on the door of the office she shared with her advisor. Carol stood there, an uncertain smile on her face. “Hey.”
“Hi, Carol,” Heather said from behind Jo, and Jo entertained a brief moment of hope that Carol was there to ask Heather a question, but no. Of course not.
“Hey,” Carol said again, addressing Jo for sure this time. “I’m heading over to the house. We’re all getting together to cook dinner in a bit. You in?”
Something uncomfortable flipped over inside Jo’s gut as she pulled the pencil from between her teeth. “I don’t know…” She knew. Keeping her distance was her best shot at holding on to her streak of goodish behavior. She looked around at all the stuff she’d managed to pile up on her desk already. It was the excuse she always fell back on, but it wasn’t like it was a lie or anything. “I have a lot of work to do,” she hedged.
“Oh, please.” Heather’s voice rang out from behind her.
Frowning, Jo looked over at her advisor. “Excuse me?”
Heather had turned to face her computer but was still waving a hand dismissively at them. “You’re a week ahead of my schedule for you. Go. Have some fun for goodness’ sake.”
And that was… really nice to hear actually. This internship was so short, and Jo’s expectations for it so ambitious. The whole time, thus far, she’d felt like she was behind.
“You heard the woman,” Carol said with a smirk. “Besides, Anna and Adam got someone to give them a ride to the grocery store, and they picked up some stuff specially for you.”
“For me?” Now Jo was really confused.
“Um, the whole vegetarian thing?” Right, because Anna had noticed that on the very first day, and a few others had given her sympathetic looks the couple of times she’d been cajoled into joining them for a meal. “We’re making stir-fry, and they picked up some tofu or whatever, so you can actually eat real food for once.”
Jo’s stomach growled at just the thought. She’d been doing okay, sneaking in peanut butter sandwiches between plates of limp vegetables and plain starches, but actual, honest-to-God food sounded amazing. Still, she sucked her lip ring into her mouth with a rough tug. “That sounds great. Just…”
“Just nothing. Come on. Walk back with me now and we can help cook.”
Cocking an eyebrow, Jo deadpanned, “Did someone get a fire extinguisher for the place?”
“Whatever. I can help cook. You can stay out of the way and glower at people. Come on.”
Well, when she put it that way.
Giving in, Jo held up her hands, then took a second to save her work and pack up her things. When she was done, she shoved a couple of articles into her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
On multiple levels, it was weird, walking back with Carol. First, Jo was used to walking to and from the lab alone, and second, she rarely made the trek before nightfall. Damn, it was hot during the day. And bright. She directed her gaze upward, missing the darkness and the shining spiral of Scorpius unwinding itself across the sky. And there were other nice views around that time, too.
Several nights now, she’d returned from work to find that guy, Adam, sitting out on the bench between their houses, appreciating the view in a way she wasn’t sure anybody else here really did. He usually saw her coming miles away, but every now and then, she managed to sneak up on him. To get a glimpse of him in a tight T-shirt, those big, muscled arms spread out to either side of him, throat exposed and gaze skyward. It made her curse herself again for getting off on the wrong foot with him.
Maybe if she hadn’t messed things up so bad, she could have been getting off with him instead.
Christ, but she really needed Carol to vacate their room at some point so she could unpack that vibrator from her top drawer. The idle fantasies she’d been indulging in of riding those lean hips into the ground—they weren’t smart thoughts, weren’t safe thoughts, especially considering this was the guy who’d triggered her into attacking him by sneaking up on her. By trying to help, like she couldn’t handle her own stupid bags. The guy who’d gotten here because of his connections and who’d tried to play the whole incestuous system off like it was a good thing.
Still, a guy who spent that much time by himself, with just the stars above for company… he might not have been the worst choice.
Cross that. He definitely wouldn’t be the worst choice, because the actual worst choice was sitting in the living room, drinking a beer and trying to make the television work.
“Hello, ladies,” Jared said with a smirk as he looked up. He did a double take when his gaze landed on Jo, a startled blink that turned into a leer about three seconds later, and she rolled her eyes with a huff.
Managing a bare nod and a wave at Anna and the other girl beside her on the couch, Jo headed to the kitchen to make a drink of her own, only to come face to chest with what might as well have been a freaking brick wall.
A deliciously warm, unfairly good-smelling brick wall.
And it was stupid—fuck, it was so stupid—but instead of stepping aside or slugging him in the face or any of a hundred other normal, rational reactions, she brought her hand up and settled it over the ripples of his abdomen. Heat was just pouring off of him, even through the damp fabric of his shirt, the flesh firm and perfect beneath the cotton.
He looked down at her, eyes shockingly blue. Maybe it wasn’t stupid to touch him after all, because he curled his hand around her hip, fingers brushing the skin beside her spine. It sent a shiver to the very center of her, and that wasn’t disgust on his face. It wasn’t confusion. Damn her if it wasn’t a hunger to match her own, and maybe this whole situation between them wasn’t as much of a lost cause as she had imagined.
Or maybe it was. In the blink of an eye, he seemed to realize what he was doing, his whole expression blanking. He yanked his hand away and stepped back so fast he half stumbled in his hurry to get the fuck away from her, and yeah. That was a little closer to what she’d been expecting. The impulse to lash out against rejection rose up in her throat, but he let out an awkward, dry chuckle.
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what I—”
“Yeah.” Her palm burned with the memory of his warmth, and the front of her body felt cold for more reasons than one. “Sure.”
She felt like such an idiot.
Before she could say something she’d regret, she whipped around. The only relief was that Jared and Carol and the rest of them had stayed put in the living room and hadn’t followed her. Hadn’t had to see that giant pile of awkwardness and weren’t looking at the inferno that was her face right now.
She didn’t acknowledge them as she stalked past them toward her room, where she closed the door and put her back to it, burying her face in her hands. Wishing she’d been smart enough to stay in her lab.
Adam pushed the last bits of his stir-fry around on his plate, scooping it up onto his fork the best he could and shoveling it into his mouth. It was one of the basic meals he’d managed to learn to cook after he’d moved out of the dorms and realized a steady diet of mac and cheese and Burger King wasn’t doing him any favors.
Not for the first time, he snuck a glance over at Jo, perched in the corner eating more greedily than he’d seen since they’d arrived. It was compliment enough, even if she hadn’t given him a verbal one. Which was fine. It hadn’t been much extra work to make up a separate little skillet for the tofu, which hadn’t been half bad, if he said so himself. If you, you know, liked tofu. Which he didn’t particularly, but whatever. Not up to him to judge. Anyway, it had gotten her over here, and that was a first.
Hell, she’d even said two words to him. Exactly two, and they’d both been effectively a dismissal. He’d been such a lug, putting his hands on her when she’d fallen into him. When she’d touched him and sent a heady jolt of arousal surging up his spine. It’d just felt so good to be touched, even if it was only a hand on his stomach as she steadied herself. Even if it wasn’t anything like he might have imagined—even if it hadn’t been heading where his brain had immediately gone.
A place his mind went entirely too often when he looked at her.
But she was all harsh lines and soft curves and he wondered what that piercing through her lip would feel like against his cock…
He shifted his plate to cover his lap and forced himself to look away. People around the room were finishing up, and there was ice cream in the freezer for dessert. Jared and Kim were flirting like they always were, though there was a level of bickering cropping up in their repartee that was new. He wasn’t sure what that said for what was brewing between them behind closed doors.
Carol, who’d already finished, too, rose and started moving around the room, taking plates from anybody who was done. Adam handed his over with a nod of thanks and leaned back in his seat as he reached for his beer. He frowned as he took a sip. Nothing stayed cold for long around here.
On the other couch, across from him, Anna looked at the time and sighed. “Should probably go call my boyfriend.”
Of course, that was a cue for half of the people in the room to look at Adam. Right. Because apparently he and Anna were the only ones here who had any significant attachments to people at home. As Anna picked her way over to the door, Jared raised an eyebrow at Adam. “How about you, lover boy? Time for you to go call the girlfriend, too?”
The clattering sound of a fork hitting a plate too hard pulled Adam’s gaze to the corner of the room. Jo dropped her head the instant he looked at her, stabbing a piece of tofu with way more aggression than was called for.
Not that Adam could blame her. His own store of hostility welled up as he went back to glaring at Jared. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he countered, a little more sulkily than he might have liked. But it had been a week now, and all he’d gotten were a couple of erratic texts. Never enough of them in a row for a real conversation, even. They were all apologetic, but actions spoke louder than silent words on silent screens, and it was like Shannon didn’t care. Like she didn’t miss him.
Sometimes, he wasn’t sure he missed her, either. Other times, he felt so damn lonely, he wanted nothing more than to hear that voice. The one that had been a constant in his ear for years, through the good and the bad and the everything in between. Until now.
“I’m sorry.” Jared’s voice was teasing. “Time to go call Ms. It’s Complicated?”
“No.” And he shouldn’t have added it, but he did. “She probably wouldn’t answer, anyway.”
He’d been good about not calling her recently, too. He’d given in once on that very first day and again a few days later. And once more over the weekend. But the itch had receded to the back of his mind, mostly. An adequate amount of disappointment could train anyone. Even him.
