Page 28 of Bound by Stars

Weslie

Eighteen days to Mars

Leading me down the staircase, Jupiter moves slowly, a step ahead, like he’s prepared to catch me. Below, gathering partygoers clad in gowns and tuxedos greet each other in the foyer outside the open dining room doors. Every head turns as we step into view.

I hold my breath, prepared for jeering.

They applaud. Instead of “Earther” and “dust mite,” they shout words like “lovely” and “radiant.”

Jupiter grins up at me.

When we make it to the door, the cheers erupt again. Behind us, someone with smoothed-back black hair glides down the steps in tails and pearls, bowing midway down the bottom half of the staircase.

Inside, Jupiter interlaces his fingers with mine, guiding me through the crowded room.

The walls glow gold, bursting with a pattern of long-pointed stars.

Along the high ceiling, more chandeliers seem to have been hung since lunch, their light filtering through strands of crystal.

The tables curve around an empty stretch of floor where a full band is assembled on a stage I’d never noticed before.

Soft, cheerful music lingers in the backdrop of the murmur of conversations.

We wind through the crowd, finding his friends congregated around a table close to the open floor.

Curran nods once as we approach.

“You look nice, Weslie,” Tar says.

“Who knew you could clean up a dust mite so well?” Hale raises his eyebrows and takes a long sip from his champagne glass.

“Enough.” Jupiter scowls at his cousin.

The music changes, growing louder and more upbeat.

People flood the dance floor. Each pair takes the same position, hands clasped on one side.

One half of the pair holds their partner’s shoulder while the other takes their waist. Then they move together in the same orderly circles as every other couple around them. Even their dancing is organized.

Curran clears his throat, shifting his eyes behind Jupiter.

Gianna weaves between tables and people, heading straight for us.

Jupiter groans without turning to look, not reacting when she grabs his shoulder.

“Your mother needs you.”

He squeezes my hand before letting go. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but it’s hard to ignore the tugging sensation urging me to follow him.

Someone checks my shoulder as they pass, nearly knocking me over, and Meridian wraps her arms around Hale, spinning him toward the dance floor. Her ruby-red dress shimmers under the soft chandelier light.

I sink into a chair, unsure of what else to do.

Tar stares at the table, frowning. “I can’t remember if I locked up the bunny bots.”

“I’m sure they’re fine.” Curran takes a glass off the tray being offered around by a porter and hands one to Tar. A noisy group of middle-aged people all holding champagne flutes waves, urging him to join them. He takes a long sip and nods to the insistent group. “I’ll be back.”

Right, Jupiter mentioned he’s an heir, too. An important one with a powerful family.

Tar doesn’t seem to be listening, his eyes distant like he’s already left the party. “Yeah, I definitely left their pen open. I have to go check the lab.” He hops up and hurries for the exit, leaving me seated by myself at the large, round table in the middle of the enormous room.

Suddenly alone, I scan the party and weave my fingers together in my lap, which immediately feels wrong.

Shaking out my hands, I cross my arms over my chest.

Nope. Too unfriendly. Asha made a point to mention it when she was finishing my hair.

I uncross them and tuck my hands under my thighs to keep from fidgeting.

Vaguely familiar faces pass, some offering forced smiles, while others ignore me entirely.

My knee bounces under the table. This was a bad idea. I should just leave. There are so many people in here, I can probably slip out the door before anyone notices. Decided, I start to rise.

“Where’s Tar?” Curran stops with his hands on a chairback, scanning the table and then the room.

I don’t know what’s worse, being alone with a Big Six heir I barely know or being the lone Earther sitting solo at the party. I should have run when I had the chance. “Decided to check on his bots.”

“Oh.” Curran swallows and hesitantly pulls out a chair, leaving one empty seat between us.

I guess we’re doing this.

For half the length of a song, he watches the doors across the room, while my gaze wanders, searching for someone, anyone, who might join us.

I hardly know anything about Curran aside from the fact that he’s from the oldest Big Six family and he’s Jupiter’s best friend.

And he’s in some kind of a something with Tar, but, from what Asha and Jupe have said, it’s complicated.

None of this exactly inspires conversation.

At the back of the room, Jupiter stands next to a regal-looking woman. Even if he weren’t at her side, I would know his mother just by looking at her. Same pale hair. Same delicate frame. Same golden-brown eyes.

He glances past her, catching me staring, and grins.

That contagious calm floods through me. Almost like magic, but it’s just Jupiter.

It radiates from him. When we first met, I thought people treated him differently because of his family, but it’s more than that.

It’s his sincerity that draws people in.

He’s so damn kind. Not in a boring or cliché way.

He embodies it. Like the word was invented to describe him.

Gesturing to a tall man in a teal suit, his mother shifts to block our connection like she can sense he’s distracted.

Her form-fitting burgundy dress swings with the movement where it flares out from her knees, nearly brushing the floor.

Twisted and pinned into a neat roll, her hair is as tight as her expression.

She keeps her head tilted back slightly, enough that she perpetually looks down her nose over sunken cheeks and narrow lips.

A soft zipping noise pulls my attention back to the table.

Curran mindlessly runs his pendant back and forth along its chain.

Catching my glance, he drops it against his chest and adjusts his posture, like he isn’t already sitting as straight-backed as me.

He brushes the dark curls off his forehead, his gaze flicking between the tablecloth and the doors again. I wonder if I look that uncomfortable.

It’s almost impossible to get enough oxygen with the thick awkwardness in the air. I’m about to jump out of my chair and brave an interaction with Jupiter’s mother.

Curran clears his throat. “Did you and Jupiter finish your…er…presentation thing?”

Jupiter’s been talking to him about me? No, wait. In the library. He was working on a project, too.

“Yeah. Just finished. How’s your project going?” I brush the curls away from my face and then quickly retract my fingers and place them awkwardly in my lap again, hoping Asha didn’t see.

He frowns like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about and then nods. “Right. Yeah. All done.”

I shift in my chair and twist the champagne flute on the table in front of me. “What was it about again? Family history?”

He nods once, eyes flicking from my face to the doors again as more silence stretches between us. “Have you ever mapped your lineage?”

I shake my head. “Nah. Can’t imagine it would be worth—”

“There you are.” Skye slips into the seat on my opposite side, leaving the empty chair between me and Curran. “I can only handle so many stories about how these old people know my parents. Worst part of these events.” She swallows Tar’s untouched champagne.

“I’ll listen to every one of them talk about my dad as long as I can avoid dancing,” Curran says.

Asha takes the seat on Skye’s other side. “An eligible alliance like you? Unlikely.”

Curran sinks down in his chair, his effort to hide actually making him seem more approachable.

“I’d bet good money that once you get dragged out there, you won’t get off the dance floor for at least an hour,” Asha says.

Skye rests her elbows on the table, blocking my view of Asha. “I don’t know. He’s pretty good at slipping away unnoticed. Where do you think Jupiter learned it?”

Curran’s standard serious expression brightens. “Is that where you want to start? Because I’ll take that bet.”

“You’re on.” Asha stands and reaches across the table to shake his outstretched hand.

Tar’s coat brushes my arm, and he takes the seat between Curran and me. “You didn’t start placing bets without me, did you? My money is on Mr. Earnshaw passing out in his chair before midnight.”

Curran shakes his head. “That’s not even worth betting on anymore. It’s more of an inevitability than probability.”

“I’ll take ten o’clock. He won’t last more than a couple of hours,” Skye says.

“Too many important people around. He’ll rally. Midnight.” Tar stares past me, where Skye locks onto his gaze, and they both nod. Bet placed.

“Nine,” Asha adds, leaning around Skye and pointing across the room at a familiar man already plopping down into a seat and stretching. “I’ve got this in the bag.”

I know that pink face and bright white mustache from the Judges’ Panel.

A song ends and applause erupts throughout the room.

Leaning toward Tar, I have to shout over the clapping. “Everything okay in the lab?”

“What?” he shouts back. Then realization washes over his expression. “Oh, yes. Bunnadillos are officially secured.”

“How many glasses of champagne until Meridian starts hanging all over Jupe?” Skye raises her eyebrows, nodding behind me.

I follow her glare to Meridian, who’s tucked under Hale’s arm and holding a half-full glass between her delicate fingers.

Her intense stare is aimed across the room directly at Jupiter.

I remember Asha’s story about their breakup.

I guess setting fire to his sketchbook didn’t help her move on.

No wonder she hates me so much. If my being an Earther didn’t offend her enough, I’m an Earther spending time with the guy she can’t seem to get over.