Page 24 of Starrily

Callie grabbed a pillow and flung it at her. Ava deftly avoided it and laughed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Ava said, “Is there no way to stop working with him?”

“He has the option to not show up. I don’t.”

“And the project?”

Callie sighed. “If Aries backed out of funding the Selene mission, best case, it would get substantially delayed, worst case, canceled. Which would leave a bunch of people without data for their projects, and some possibly without their jobs.”

“Well, then.” Ava swirled the last bit of drink in her glass. “You don’t think you could try giving Simon Montague a chance?”

Callie looked out the window. “I don’t know.” It would lead to her thinking more about what Ava had said—and she didn’t want to drown in the memories …

In her dreams, Callie was back at the observatory, turning her face to the sun, enjoying the breeze. There was no disturbing flashing of the camera, no Simon; everything was peaceful and quiet. She didn’t even see the city—only the ocean and the sky. She closed her eyes and sighed contently.

The smooth silk of her scarf caressed her neck as it unwrapped. She opened her eyes just as it flew away. Panic shot through her—too strong, too intense for something as trivial as a scarf.

The sky flooded, the clear blue changing into murky brown water. The scarf twisted and turned, reshaping into a pale child’s arm. Clouds of dust and silt obscured the arm’s owner, offering Callie only a dark silhouette in the water.

“Callie!” the high-pitched scream came.

“Just hold on a bit longer. I’ll pull you out. I’ve got you.” Callie said the words, but they came out as those of a little girl. Water bubbled in her throat, bitter and sandy and suffocating.

“Callie!” The voice, and with it the arm, faded.

“Mila! No!”

Callie came awake—whether with a scream or not, she wasn’t sure, but she grabbed her throat and tried to catch her breath.

It’s all right. You’re not drowning. It was only a dream.

But once, it hadn’t been.

She sat on her bed for the longest time, bringing her heartbeat back down, just breathing.

She hadn’t dreamed about Mila in so long. She thought she had it all under control.

Maybe that was the problem. Too much control. Too much denial, too much pent-up anger. She could hide behind science all day, every day, but it would never erase her memories.

Simon wasn’t the reason for her anger; he was only a victim. But that changed nothing. Ava had said perhaps something in Callie recognized Simon as someone … compatible. A kindred spirit. A soul mate?

Perhaps he reminded her of Mila. Bright, adventurous, unafraid. Maybe that’s why, from the moment she’d met him, she instinctively knew she could like him—and had to push him away. All the little annoyances, like him insinuating himself into her project, only made it easier.

Theia jumped onto the bed. Callie petted her, then hid her face in her fur.

“You won’t leave me, will you?” she mumbled.

Theia meowed.

“Good.” At least she had her cat.

Because it was unlikely she’d ever allow herself to have a kindred spirit again.

***

Simon usually wasn’t a grunter at tennis, but apparently today, it was time to let it all out. He wasn't sure whether grunting improved his breathing and rhythm, but it felt good.

Stan was putting up a fight. At over six feet and at least 220 pounds, one wouldn’t think he’d be good at tennis, but he returned an incredible amount of serves and had no problem running from one side of the court to the other to return Simon’s shots.