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“The universe is vast and ever-expanding,” booms a deep voice that seems to emanate from all sides at once. “As different as we may feel, the 8.1 billion humans on Earth today all exist within the same cosmos.”

“The stars—they’re just like us!” I stage-whisper through pitch-blackness in Ethan’s general direction.

“Four and half billion years ago, our solar system formed from a combination of interstellar gas and dust…”

I lean over and, this time, I whisper in his ear, “There’s some dust collecting under my fridge. Should we try to make our own galaxy later?”

“We’re not going home tonight,” he says.

“I know. I just meant later in our lives.”

It’s too dark to see him, but I can feel his grin.

I am immediately thrown back to the night we stargazed on the beach, the night we first kissed for real—but not our true first date, in my opinion. I had to sense Ethan beside me then too. Imagine his reactions. The subtle nuances of his face.

Even then, I felt like I knew him like he was mine.

Of course, this memory jog is precisely what Ethan had in mind.

He and I are on our non-first-date date— finally . We are at the planetarium. Which somehow he has managed to secure for us alone.

I could not have loved anything more. This man gifted me the night sky.

“But how ?” I asked when we first arrived at the empty theater, after museum hours. My mouth agape.

“I play basketball with the assistant director.” He shrugged.

This basketball game is a gold mine. Maybe I need to work on my jump shot?

And yet I knew Ethan was downplaying the favor he called in. There is, no doubt, an expectation of some major quid pro quo.

“There are eighty-eight official constellations in the sky,” says the all-knowing voice now, “from Canis Minor to Bootes to Triangulum Australe, or Southern Triangle.”

Maybe now is a good time to finally tell Ethan my theory about constellations being named like sexual positions.

“Hey, Ethan,” I whisper.

“Sasha,” he says. “Are you bored?” Like I am a child who cannot sit still. Like he might offer me his phone to play on.

I get it. He is not wrong. I am oddly chatty. But I have never been less bored.

On the contrary, I am giddy. Awake. Abuzz. I’m just so blissed out—by Ethan’s proximity, his fingers woven through mine, the freedom of this night, the fact that I can kiss (or even bone!) him whenever I want—that I’m having trouble settling in.

It is still so new. And yet I feel like I’ve known him forever.

“I’m not bored at all!” I say. “This is incredible.”

“Good.”

“Can I just tell you one last thing?”

“Of course. But why are you whispering? We’re the only people here!”

“I know. But I don’t want to be disrespectful.”

“To the recording?”

“Yes. And to the little green men.”

“Oh boy.” I can feel him roll his eyes, but smile too.

“One last question, and then I promise to pay attention,” I say.

“Yes?”

“Where are you taking me after this?”

“Sasha!” he groans. “We’ve been over this. What part of surprise don’t you understand?”

“The part that involves me being insanely hungry and you taking me to some super-chic hipster bar where the only snack is dried shiso leaves.”

“Do you really think I would miss the chance to watch you demolish the best burger in New York?”

“Aw,” I say, all warm inside. “You really know me.”

He squeezes my hand, and fireworks ignite inside me. Blinding light. Crackling waterfalls of shimmer. Circular explosions of red, blue, purple and green that pop up as if out of nowhere, to gasps and sighs.

I tingle from head to toe.

“Hey, Ethan?”

“Yes?” he says, all patience. And I give him big props for not telling me to shut up.

“If no one else is here, why do I have to sit in my own seat?”

He laughs, softly. “Now, that is a good question.” He pulls me onto his lap, where I curl up and burrow into him. My head in the crook of his grass-scented neck.

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close.

I rise and fall with his breath.

I will stay here for infinity and a day, if they let me. No matter how much I want that burger.

“The moon is four hundred times smaller than the sun, but four hundred times closer to Earth,” the voice explains. “It appears bright, but is actually dark on the surface.”

It’s all about perspective.

“Sasha,” Ethan whispers.

I still melt when he says my name.

“Yes?”

“The thing is… I might love you. I mean, I do. Love you.”

I can feel his breath hitch in his chest. We both know it’s soon. But when you know, you know.

“Hey, Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“I might love you too. A lot.”

He squeezes me tight. I am aglow. All tied up—with him.

From this vantage point, with Ethan as my armchair, I look up and finally focus on the show.

With wonder, I take in the stars—the ones projected on the ceiling and the ones twinkling inside of me.