Page 152 of Should Our Stars Collide

It happens when everything feels perfect. Too perfect.

Kieran stands in the middle of the living room, watching Ash cook. He has a pink apron on—a gag gift from Gabe. His sleeves are pushed up, and he’s humming a song fromMoana—which they watched last night—as he stirs something in a pan. There’s nothing dramatic about the moment. Ash isn’t saying anything profound, isn’t looking at him, isn’t even aware he’s being watched. But Kieran feels it anyway.

It starts as a whisper, a small tug on his heartstrings. Then harder, sharper, a weight settling in his chest and forcing him to the ground after soaring in the sky for so long.

It’s time.

He forces himself through dinner, pretending the unease hasn’t already set in. Ash doesn’t notice, too busy fussing over portion sizes and whether the sauce is too salty. Kieran laughs when he’s supposed to, but every glance across the table feels like memorizing something he’ll have to leave behind.

Later, when they crawl into bed, Ash drapes an arm over his chest, heavy and warm. He plants a kiss in Kieran’s hair, murmuring “Goodnight, firecracker” before filling the room with soft snores.

Kieran lies awake long after Ash has drifted off, staring into the dark. Eventually, he leans close and whispers the three words he’s never dared to say, even though they’ve been on the tip of his tongue for a long time now. Ash doesn’t hear. He just breathes evenly, lost in sleep.

Kieran refuses to shut his eyes, but he only lasts so long. Sleep eventually finds him, dragging him under like quicksand. He’s vaguely aware of the tickling sensation as something runs down his face.

In his bones, he knows. When morning comes, all of this will be gone.

34

Ash is cooked. He never expected things to take a turn like this.

And now he’s here, in Kieran’s apartment, in hisbed, hovering even after Kieran’s already fallen asleep. He meant to leave after putting some painkillers and water on the nightstand, but his ass is glued to the mattress, watching Kieran sleep like the creep he always accuses him of being.

A small shiver rocks Kieran’s body, a noise of complaint slipping past his kissable, parted lips. Ash reaches over to pull the covers up to his chin, before carding a hand through his hair. It’s silky soft and slightly damp, falling onto his forehead. He releases a sigh as Ash continues to pet him, the reaction awakening something dangerous. Ash snatches his hand back, shuffling to the edge of the bed to create some distance.

He’s not cooked. He’s full on deep-fried. In a volcano.

All he wanted was to give Kieran a taste of the things he’s yearned for his whole life—validation, appreciation, understanding. This is how Ash works, this is his MO. One night, one chance to play the genie and bring about what the person desires the most. His ability makes it easy to dip into people’s minds and find out exactly what that something is. And the fact that he gets to satisfy his own desires in the process? Double-win.

That’s what this was supposed to be. He was supposed to use his gift and charm until Kieran couldn’t fightit anymore and gave in. Ash would blow his mind, grant his every wish, until he forgot about all the things weighing him down. He believed that’s what Kieran needed.

He was wrong. For once, he is ridiculously wrong.

If all those drunken confessions and babbling revealed something, it’s that Kieran doesn’t need one good night. He doesn’t need someone to come and sweep him off his feet, proving to him that the things he wants are not impossible.

He needs way, way more than that. Much more than Ash can offer.

In fact, giving him a taste of the things he’s been aching for only for them to be ripped away would crush him. Kieran isn’t someone looking for instant gratification or relief. He isn’t looking for a quick fix, despite his lifestyle suggesting otherwise.

He’s looking for permanent, reliable; something to last, tostay. Someone to trust, to make him feel safe.

One time was never going to cut it.

There’s nothing Ash can do for him, nothing he can offer. He’s the last person Kieran needs.

But I want to be.

And that’s the problem. Despite knowing all of that, he can’t bring himself to leave.

This is bad. And dangerous. Ash never had a problem walking away, but the idea of stepping out of this apartment knowing he’ll be stepping out of Kieran’s life makes him unable to move.

When did I become so attached?

He’s felt drawn to Kieran since the moment they met, like a moth mesmerized by a bonfire. Every scowl and sharp word, every blazing emotion, was like a siren song luring him in.

But after bumping into each other at the bar, and tonight at the pub, after watching Kieran disguise pain and sadness as sarcasm and hostility, while his heart was screaming for someone to see through the lie… Fuck, that shot all Ash’s plans to hell.

It doesn’t make sense. He’s a freaking therapist. He watches people cry and break down, listens to them share the most painful parts of themselves. He feels for them, wants to help them, sometimes connectswith them a little more than he should—like he did with Dawson.