Page 24 of Bound by Stars

Jupiter

Nineteen days to Mars

A bread plate is wedged between the door to the pool and its frame, so it can’t fully shut and lock. How often does Weslie come here at night?

I shove it open, glad all the passageways are programmed with the gentle-close feature we learned about in our passenger ship unit in fourth year.

Hale was particularly interested in the horror stories predating the ordinance about passengers getting crushed or worse.

The little plate clanks against the smooth floor and I replace it before the door slides into place again.

“Hello?” My voice echoes through the room, bouncing off every plane.

Dim nightlights set low in the walls put off enough illumination to make out only the basic shapes in the room. A line of wooden deck chairs. The trim of the high ceiling. The abrupt edge of the pool. Stars glitter off the dark surface, like the water’s been replaced by space.

The locker room door swings open, Weslie silhouetted in the lit doorway. “Keep your voice down. I was grabbing towels.”

“When you said meet you at the pool after hours…” I lower my volume, but it doesn’t stop the eerie reverberation, sending every word back to me in duplicates. “…I didn’t think you meant we’d actually be swimming.”

The door swings closed behind her and my eyes slowly adjust to the low light again. She’s already down to her bathing suit. Skintight, low cut. “What else do you do in a pool?”

Too many completely inappropriate ideas rush into my head, not one of which I can share even as a joke without destroying our friendship, or whatever this is. My face goes hot, and I avert my eyes. “Like, maybe it had a great view or something.”

“It’s stars. Like every other window in the ship.” She waves a hand toward the glass wall across the pool, following the long edge toward me.

“You don’t like stars?” I shove my hands in my pockets, rounding my shoulders.

“I do, but there isn’t a lot of variety.”

More than two weeks of looking out into space does kind of kill the awe.

“Right.” I can’t help glancing at the spot where she was held under, flailing desperately in the water. I clench my shaking hands. “Are you going to be okay? After Hale—”

“I love swimming. I’m not going to let that asshole take it from me.” She tosses a stack of towels down on a slatted chaise.

Of course not. She is absolutely formidable.

Suddenly aware that I’m staring, I spin around, looking for the room’s control panel. “Want me to figure out how to turn on the pool light?”

“Nope. This is better.” She dives in, disappearing into the reflection of open space.

Better? I peer over the edge. A chill runs over my skin. Scarier, maybe.

She pops up, her heavy curls matted down her back. “What’s the holdup?”

“I…” I look down at my pants and untucked dress shirt. “I didn’t wear the right clothes.”

Her eyes go wide in feigned shock. “Do those disintegrate in water?”

I shake my head. “You’re very funny.”

“Suit yourself. Stay on dry land, Prince Dalloway,” she teases, pulling herself to the center of the pool, so she’s barely visible in the sparkling blackness.

I run a hand over my face. My palm stings and I hold it out to examine the dressing. Even if I claimed ILSA’s job sealing the wound was botched, the bandage is airtight. That excuse is out.

“I’d say it feels like bathwater, but I’m sure it doesn’t compare to the one drawn by your butler each night.”

Dropping my chin, I march to a chair and sit, removing my shoes and socks. I can’t believe I’m letting her taunt me into this.

“It’s okay if you’re too scared. There are probably all kinds of monsters lurking under here with the light out.” She floats on her back, splayed out. Her ears are submerged, so she can’t hear how loudly she’s heckling me.

It’s not that I’m afraid of water, it just always makes me feel a little uneasy. Maybe even panicked. Okay, I’m a little afraid of water.

“Fuck it,” I say to myself, unbuttoning my shirt and tossing it over the back of the chair. I start to unlatch my belt, but getting down to my underwear feels weirdly presumptuous. Sitting on the edge, I lower myself into the pool, keeping hold of the wall.

She was right. It’s warm. But that doesn’t stop the chill creeping over my bare chest or my breaths from coming too fast.

My pulse is racing as I turn to find her.

The surface is almost still. She’s gone.

“Wes?” I say softly. Nothing. “Weslie?”

She bobs out of the water right beside me.

My heart stops for a full beat. “Dammit, you scared the hell out of me.”

She splashes me. “Trying to keep your pretty hair dry?”

“I can get out and leave if you didn’t actually want me to come.” I start to climb out of the pool.

“No, wait.” She catches my arm, pulling me back in. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s kind of my default. I don’t know why I do that.”

I do. It’s a defense. She’s not used to letting people get close.

“Please, stay.”

She convinced me the moment she touched me. Damn, I’m pathetic around this girl.

I dip under the surface to hide my shame, coming up face first so the water trickles through my hair like warm fingers. I wipe it away from my eyes, trying not to gasp for air.

She swims backward and I drag myself along the wall to follow.

“How’d you learn to swim?” The question slipped out before I had time to gauge if it would offend her. She seems to be as proud to be from Earth as she is desperate to leave it behind. “It’s just…people always talk about the dust and I…”

She narrows her eyes like she’s considering being mean again and then turns away, pulling herself through another long stroke.

“There’s a seasonal lake about an hour walk through the woods from my house.

It doesn’t get very deep, but deep enough to swim in spring and early summer.

Plus, the area was used for agriculture like a hundred and fifty years ago, so if it rains enough the old canals flood.

Every kid learns how to swim just in case. ”

“What’s that like?” I move farther down the wall.

She peers over her shoulder, the water lapping at her chin. “Do you not know how to swim, Big Six?”

“Swimming is more of a choice than a necessity on Mars. I never really saw the appeal.”

“Oh, god.” She hurries back to my side like she’s afraid I’m about to accidentally drown myself. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t exactly give me the chance between all the relentless mocking.” I laugh.

She looks horrified.

“I can swim.” I roll my eyes, letting go of the edge.

“Just not well. Or often.” I manage a smooth enough breaststroke, not quite as graceful as hers.

“That’s not what I was asking, though. Rain.

What’s rain like?” I’ve read about it in books, seen it in old movies, but I always wondered if it was as magical as they made it out to be.

“Wet.” She laughs, flicking droplets at my face.

“Poetic.”

She pushes off the wall and twirls in the water. “Didn’t we have a storm a couple weeks before the Boundless departed? Were you too afraid to go outside and see the miracle of precipitation for yourself?” Dipping under the reflected stars again, she doesn’t wait for an answer.

My heart pounds, like I’m alone, drifting in open space.

She pops up on my opposite side.

I flinch.

I wish she would stop doing that.

She wraps her elbows over the edge of the pool next to the giant window, staring out into the vast, sparkling darkness.

I hold onto the wall next to her. “I wasn’t allowed out much on Earth.”

She glances at me, blinking away the droplets glittering in her eyelashes. “You’ll have to go back, then. Climb a hill. Touch dirt…”

There it is. That note of cautious pride in her voice. I wish I could see her face better.

“Run in the rain…or I guess walk, in your case.”

“I’ve also never seen the appeal of running.”

Her lips twist into that apprehensive smile I’m getting used to. I don’t know what she’s holding back. Are there meaner thoughts trying to get out? Harsher jokes? Or maybe honesty too deep to trust me with? She might be the most guarded person I’ve ever met.

“Think you will?” She rests her chin on her folded arms.

“What?

“Go back to Earth.”

Not likely. Until there’s business there and that’s usually handled by a company representative. “Maybe. I really want to.”

“But you’re an heir.”

“Exactly.”

“What is that like?” She lays her head down, keeping her eyes on me. “I mean, I know the standard lore. You’re inheriting your family’s company. You’re basically Elysian royalty. But what does that actually mean?”

“For the next decade, I’ll shadow my mother.

Obey orders.” Everything I have to give up flashes through my mind, and I swallow back the frustration.

“And then, when she retires, I’ll be the one on top, shaking hands, giving speeches, putting out corporate fires.

” I’m not really even considered a person anymore. I’m a commodity.

“So they basically control every part of your life, then?” Weslie frowns, lowering herself back to the water, watching me closely.

I want to tell her. About the betrothal. About Skye. About Andi. I want to tell her how much I want to throw it all back in my mom’s face and run back to Earth. Just disappear. But that’s too much to put on her. “Basically.”

“That’s…” She scrutinizes my face.

I stare into the black water and brace for a classic Weslie insult. Poor little rich boy. Must be tough to be so taken care of, Big Six.

Her fingers brush my chin, and I meet her eyes, unguarded and sympathetic. “…really sad.”

Should I tell her the rest? The full scope of it.

How every detail of my existence will be dictated by a corporation.

What I say. Where I live. Every interaction.

Every relationship. And if I give it up, if they let me go, I’ll disappoint my parents and hand my sister’s legacy to Hale, of all people.

Her hand falls away, but I can still feel the ghost of her touch lingering on my skin.

“Come on.” She pushes off the side again, expertly treading water and holding out her palm on the surface. “I wanted to show you my version of zero gravity.”

“Technically there’s no such thing as zero gravity. Everything has a gravitational pull.” I repeat her words back to her, remembering how she flushed even in the cold of the cargo hold. There’s no stopping the smirk that tugs at the edges of my mouth.

She winces, covering her face with her hand. “Can we forget I said that, please?”

“Said what?” I peel it away, letting go of the wall. “Now, what are we doing?”

“Take a deep breath and follow me.” Sucking in air, she dives underwater.

It takes me an extra second to gather up the courage and the oxygen, but I follow.

Under the surface, the world is muted. My heart beats loudly in my ears over the muffled sounds of moving water. Weak light barely highlights the ripples above as I sink into darkness.

A stream of bubbles tickles my skin, trailing up my stomach to my neck.

Underneath me, there’s a mild current in the wake of Weslie’s movements.

Her hands find mine, fingers weaving together.

She drags me along, like a siren from Greek mythology, luring me to my death.

And I give in, gliding with her in the tranquil quiet, ignoring my burning lungs.

When I’m with her, I feel like it would be worth it. Giving it all up. That Andi would understand. That even if I can’t stop being an heir, if she felt a fraction of what I feel for her, I would fight for the chance to see where this might be going. Even if it means blowing up my entire life.

We slowly drift back up. Breaking the surface, we both gasp for breath and grab hold of the wall.

“You should be more careful. What if I was trying to assassinate you by drowning, Big Six?”

“Not a chance. I trust you.” I move closer, my gaze flicking to her mouth.

She closes more of the distance, cautiously placing a hand over my pounding heart, and my skin ignites under her touch. Her eyes explore my face like she’s searching for something I haven’t said hidden at the edge of my lips or the curve of my jaw.

A loud clattering bounces off the water.

Weslie pulls her hand away and I jerk to attention.

“Jupiter!” Gianna’s voice booms through the cavernous room.

I press my eyes shut.

She’s moving fast tonight. This has to be one of the last places she looked.

The lights come on overhead, momentarily blinding me. I squint across the pool, plastering on a fake grin. “Gianna, you found me! Your turn to hide.”

“Out of the water.”

“One, two, three… Better hurry. I’ll get to fifty before you know it.”

“Now. Or I’m going to tell your mother where I found you.”

I lift myself on the edge and glance down at Weslie. “It seems I have to go.”

She chews her lip.

Is that disappointment I saw flash across her expression?

Leaning down, I shake droplets out of my hair, offer her a hand, and whisper, “Next time, I get to pick the place.”

She grabs hold and I help her out of the water so we’re standing toe to toe. She’s fighting a smile, but her eyes brighten.

Gianna’s large hand clasps onto my shoulder. Spinning me effortlessly, she shoves a towel to my chest, drops her gaze, and lets out a full-body sigh.

I follow her eyes to my pants, heavy with water and sagging on my hips even with my belt tightly cinched.

“My god, if your mother saw this.” She massages her forehead and then waves me toward the door. “Move.”

I peek back at Weslie, who cringes as a towel whizzes past my head. She catches it before it hits her face.

“You, too. Out.” Gianna leads us to the door.

“It’s not safe for either of you to be here at this hour without the lights on”—she pauses to inspect the control panel next to the door—“and the lifeguard system offline. It’s like you have no concern for your own safety.

Why do you insist on making my job harder, Jupiter? ”

“I figured you appreciated the challenge.”

Her expression is blank. “For the record: I do not.”

With the bread plate gone, the door locks behind us.

“See you tomorrow.” Weslie pats her face with the towel and a wet curl falls into her eyes.

I reach out to brush it away. “Big presentation day. You ready?”

“Enough.” Gianna grabs my forearm and drags me down the hall like a small child.

I glance back at Wes, pointing my thumb toward Gianna. “Hide-and-seek champion of the galaxy, right here!”