Page 49 of Starrily

“Pretty sure we’d know if a planet was about to collide with Earth,” Simon said.

“It’s snowing,” Callie said.

“Huh?” Jessica blinked.

“At the observation site.”

“It’s snowing in Hawaii?” Simon said, incredulous.

“It’s very high up. Most of the time, the skies are perfectly clear, but sometimes … it happens.”

“What does that mean?” Jessica asked.

“They can’t open the telescope right now. We’ll have to wait.”

“It’ll be fine,” Simon said, though he didn’t catch her eyes. “Every storm passes.”

The storm refused to pass.

One hour. Two. Three. Callie had heard of the bad astronomer’s luck—you could have all the clear skies in the world, but the moment you decided to observe through a telescope, the clouds would gather. She never thought it’d happen to her.

Five. Eight hours, and the night was gone. The storm had stopped, but due to the accumulated snow, it wasn’t safe to open the cover of the observatory.

“It’s fine, we’ll get it tomorrow. Or … today …” Jessica yawned and stretched her arms. “It’s better for the article. More drama.” She said her goodbyes and left the office.

Simon shifted in his seat, making Callie painfully aware of every movement—his, and her own. She kept staring at the screen, the words of a random article she’d picked to keep herself distracted blurring in front of her eyes.

They were alone now. She had the opportunity—if only she were brave enough to take it. Tell him she was sorry. Ask him to play the cheeriest song by ABBA, because she needed it, and she needed him.

Simon stood up. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Si—” she started simultaneously, but too quietly for him to hear.

He left, not a smile in sight.

She didn’t deserve one, anyway.

Their second night of observation brought no better news. According to the operators at the telescope, the sky was toocloudy to do anything. No wonder Callie couldn’t glimpse the stars—she was trapped in the deepest purgatory. Not even during her high school years had she ever experienced something this excruciating. Oh, Simon and Jessica were fine—they laughed and chatted and, at some point, even considered karaoke. But Callie stayed rooted to her chair like the unpopular girl at the school dance, and every time Simon glanced at her, she wondered if, this time, he’d say something. A bubble of hope escaped from her cage of tightly locked emotions and popped as he said nothing.

The night passed with no good news from the observation site. Jessica left, and once again, they were alone.

“Now what?” Simon said. For a moment, Callie thought he was asking about the two of them until he gestured to the monitor.

“I’ll have to write another proposal. Hope it gets approved. Might get another observation slot in … half a year? A year?” Her head fell to her chest. She didn’t have the energy to even contemplate that.

“And your research?”

“Will get proportionally delayed.”

She leaned her arms on the desk and hid her face in them. She could use a joke from Simon. Something to lighten the mood. A silver lining to all of her clouds.

But she’d lost her chance at that. Probably a long time ago, when she’d decided no one would ever make her sad again. But that also meant no one could make her truly happy.

Simon stood, pausing for a second. “Next time.” His voice was schooled into betraying almost no emotion. Certainly no optimism. What else was he hiding—his contempt for her?

She only had the clouds now. Her dark, stormy clouds.

Chapter 12