Page 11 of Starrily (Perks of Being #2)

Chapter 11

C allie woke up by Theia’s gentle patting of her hand. She stared at the ceiling, shaking off the cobwebs of her dreams.

Nightmares, rather. But instead of feeling shaken by it, she felt … warm. Safe. Because of Simon. The bed sheet next to her was cold now, but she remembered him sitting there, embracing her, soaking up her fears.

A sound of clinging dishes came from the other room. Emboldened by a strange wave of joy—Simon was here, and she’d be fine—she hopped off the bed, drawn to the door by a warm, buttery smell wafting in. Was there something sizzling, too?

She pried the door open. Simon was busy in the kitchen as he turned from the stove to the counter and back, checking on something frying in the pan, waving around with a spatula, sorting out plates, pouring juice—all while humming a pop melody. The earliest rays of the morning sun streamed into the kitchen, making the scene look much too cozy—and him as if he belonged there.

For about five seconds, Callie smiled like a fool.

And then the memory of her nightmare came back, only the hand wasn’t Mila’s, but Simon’s.

No. This can’t happen. She’d let him into her office for work. She’d let him into her apartment for one night because the circumstances made that the most sensible course of action. But he was going no further than that.

“What are you doing?” Her tone shifted from a cheerful to a lower—shakier—in the middle of the sentence.

His humming stopped, and he looked up. “Morning, Phoenix.” He flashed her a smile. “I figured as a thanks for letting me stay over, I’d make breakfast. Now, before you say, ‘How are you thanking me, if you’re using my kitchen and my eggs?’ well, the stove can’t be helped, but these are actually from the store …”—he raised a carton of eggs—“because it turns out you have no eggs in your fridge. This also means your neighbor might have seen me in the NASA shirt, but I’m sure it’s gonna be—”

Panic rose, enveloping her heart. He’s not staying here, he’s not making me breakfast, this has to stop right now—before I start caring too much. “You have to leave.”

He lowered the spatula. “I’m sorry?”

“Leave. Now. Your clothes are dry—change, and go.”

Simon put down the spatula and removed a pan with fried eggs from the stove. “Are you okay? We don’t have to talk about last night if you don’t—”

“Go! I have to … I have to get ready for work.”

He looked away, the movements feeling wooden. “All right.” He made it around the counter and into the bathroom without another word.

Callie kept standing there until he came back, carrying his jacket. He paused, and their eyes met. It made it so much worse that his were soft and pleading, instead of angry.

You can still take it back. Tell him you want him to make breakfast for you. Tell him you want to watch movies with him again.

Callie clenched her fists until her nails dug into her skin, the pain helping her rebel against her heart. I can’t do it. I’ll only lose him. Any agony she felt now would be so much smaller than the agony she’d feel at losing someone she loved. Again.

Still, she wet her lips, figuring what she could say—but nothing came until Simon blinked away, murmured a short “Goodbye,” and left the apartment. He didn’t slam the door, and it got stuck a few inches ajar—almost as if begging her to go after him.

Instead, she sat by the counter, teased by the mouthwatering smell from the breakfast he’d assembled. A bun of bread with sesame seeds, eggs, sunny side up—slightly burned at the edges, as if he somehow knew she loved to eat those crispy bits the most—and even bacon.

Callie stared into the far wall of her apartment, gritting her teeth in her best attempt to regain control—and then she finally gave in and cried.

***

Simon stood on the street in front of Calliope’s apartment complex, lost and confused.

Did she hate eggs for breakfast?

Of course not. Something else was wrong, but Simon was a bit too rattled to think clearly about what that was. So he started walking.

He had pent-up energy and frustration to release, and ordinarily, sport would help. Maybe it was time for climbing again. No, too slow. He needed something to blow his thoughts away. Mountain biking? That sounded better.

But instead of heading home to pick up the equipment, Simon took a bus, then walked some more until he found himself in a suburban street in front of a neat, two-story house with a perfectly maintained lawn and a paved path leading to the front door.

A woman answered his knock, peering past the door. “Hello?”

“Uh.” Simon shook his head. “Wrong house, sorry.”

“Wait,” she said as he turned to walk away. “You’re Stan’s boss, aren’t you?”

He turned back.

“Michelle, wife.” She extended a hand and smiled at him. “Do you need Stan?”

He wasn’t sure. He needed someone to talk to—but why did he pick his driver?

“He took the kids to school, but he should be back soon. Come in.” Michelle moved aside to let him enter. She led him to the living room and brought him a glass of orange juice. “Stan should arrive in five minutes or so. Will you excuse me? I have to go back to my Zoom meeting.”

“Sure. Sorry for interrupting.”

“No biggie.” She disappeared upstairs.

Stan did, indeed, arrive in about five minutes. Based on how he paused at the doorway, Simon assumed his presence here surprised him, even if Stan’s face was as stoic as ever. “Mr. Simon,” he said. “You’re here.”

“Uh—yes.”

“Is there an emergency?”

“No. No!” Simon stood, nearly overturning the glass of orange juice on the coffee table. He ran a hand through his hair and, not knowing what else to do, sat back down.

“It’s the doctor,” Stan said.

“Why is that always your conclusion?”

“It seems to always be true.”

Fair enough. Simon sighed and sank into the couch. “I’m sorry for coming here uninvited. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Did she kick you out of her office again?”

“Close. Her apartment.”

“Hmmph.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Good,” Stan said. “I have a swing in the backyard to fix. You can help while you tell it.” He headed down the hallway.

After the initial surprise, Simon jumped off the sofa and caught up with him. “I had no idea you were married. And had kids.”

“You never asked.”

“I guess I didn’t.” He followed Stan through the kitchen and out the back door. Stan headed for a small shed in the corner while Simon took in the inflatable pool, a set-up for a barbecue, and the aforementioned swing.

“How old are the kids?”

“Eleven and six.”

Eleven. Middle school. The grades I’d have taught.

No, not him. Not Simon.

Stan handed him the tools, and they got to work—one of the swing sets had to be re-affixed to the top bar. With their heights, it wasn’t too hard to do, and Simon chuckled as he thought about it. “Did you wait for me to turn up here one day so you could use my help?”

“Hmm. You must not be that sad.”

“What?”

“If you’re cracking jokes.”

“Just because I said one funny thing doesn’t mean … well, that some things don’t suck.”

“Then tell.”

And Simon did; although he provided Stan with an abridged version. He didn’t want to try his patience, and regardless, he wasn’t telling him he’d considered kissing Calliope, or that she was plagued by nightmares.

“So.” He leaned on the swing’s supporting beam. “What the hell does it all mean, and what do I do?”

“You talk.”

“I just did.”

“To her.”

“Oh, no. Nuh-uh.” He waved his finger at Stan. “She’s the one who threw me out without an explanation!”

“If you don’t care, why did you need to talk to me?”

“That’s not the point!”

Stan gave him a look Simon imagined was reserved for getting his kids in line. “You’d be surprised how many things can be resolved with simple communication.”

“Nothing is simple with Calliope.”

“Talk.” Stan yanked hard on the chain holding the swing and nodded in approval. “How do you think I’ve stayed married for thirteen years?”

Stan, the communicator? Simon couldn’t imagine a bigger oxymoron. That was too funny.

But who was he to laugh at that? At least Stan had a good family life. Simon was always going on about what a good life he had and how much he enjoyed it and got everything out of it…

If that everything was partying and extreme sports.

It felt like absolute insanity to think Calliope was the missing piece. And yet, when he thought about yesterday, he realized he wanted more days like those. He wanted her to be a part of whatever fun activity he’d come up with. He wanted to bicker and laugh with her, and at the end of the day, he wanted to sit down on the couch and watch a movie with her.

Maybe he even wanted more.

He leaned his forehead on the cool metal of the supporting beam. “I don’t know if she even wants to talk.”

“Then wait. Be patient.”

“You’ve known me for years. Have I ever been patient?”

Stan shrugged. “With the right motivation, you can try.”

“Hey, you two.” Michelle stood in the doorway. “Nice work. Mr. Montague, do you want to stay for lunch?”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” Simon said. “Plenty of work to do.”

“I can drive you back,” Stan said.

“I got myself here, I can get myself back. But thanks for the talk.”

Anyone else but Stan might’ve said, “Anytime.” But Stan just nodded.

“And sorry for calling you yesterday evening.”

“Hmm.” Stan squinted. “Did you? I didn’t notice. Family time.”

“Good on you,” Simon said, realizing he fully meant it. He missed having a family. Someone beside him, always—someone to care for and enjoy life with them, whatever that life brought. Now that would be an adventure.

What a shame that, when he thought of co-adventurers, one face appeared in his mind—and she’d told him to get lost.

***

During all the drama, Callie forgot to notify Simon of the change in schedule with her observation time at the telescope coming up. She’d be strapped to her computer for two nights and early mornings—not a window of time that should appeal to either Simon or Jessica. She sent them both an email, obsessing over the two short, neutral sentences, wondering what Simon would see in them. Another rejection?

Surprisingly, Jessica wanted to join her, and Callie admitted she didn’t mind company. Observations, even those done remotely, were significantly more fun than her regular computer work, but the nights could feel long and lonely.

Strange, because for most of her life, Callie had thought she didn’t mind being alone.

As for Simon—he didn’t respond, and she assumed it was a combination of her latest outburst and the ungodly morning hours of the task. This time, though, she wouldn’t seek him out. Not because he didn’t deserve it, but because she couldn’t allow herself to do it. She doubted her project was endangered; Simon was a good person, and he wouldn’t stoop so low as to cancel the funding because of her behavior. But if she tried to make up again, she’d fall into the same trap. He’d smile and say something funny and do something nice for her, and she couldn’t say no, and her brain would get all tangled up in wonderful, bright potential futures, and drag her heart with it.

It would’ve been the easiest thing to fall for Simon Montague.

Which was why she had to gather all her forces not to do it.

“ The days of looking through a telescope with your bare eyes are over, ” Jessica narrated out loud and typed rapidly. “ Now, the technology lets scientists study what they could’ve never seen before … ”

“You don’t have to make it sound so dramatic.” Callie swiveled in her chair. The team at the Gemini telescope should contact her any minute now, and pleasant jitters were spreading through her body. Finally, she’d get new images for her research, and looking through a telescope in one of the best observing sites on the planet was a reward in its own right.

Jessica did have a point, though—as cool and useful as the current technology was, Callie missed simply looking up at the sky. How would it feel to be like an astronomer of old, track objects with her own two eyes, chart the heavens? Somewhat inaccurate, for sure, but also a little bit romantic.

“Oh, hey, Simon,” Jessica suddenly said.

Callie nearly overturned in her chair. Simon is here. She didn’t even hear him enter.

Maybe she was already so efficient at blocking him out.

“Sorry, I didn’t knock.” He kept his gaze somewhere between Callie and Jessica. “I didn’t want to wake you up in case you were sleeping.”

Jessica scoffed. “It’s barely one in the morning. We’re ready to go, team!” She pumped a fist.

Callie swallowed, words of an apology—or a greeting, or anything resembling basic decency—stuck in her throat.

“Classic rock, good,” Simon acknowledged the music selection and slid into a chair. He still hadn’t looked at her and instead began chatting with Jessica about how finding parking was so much easier during the night.

She couldn’t say anything to him while Jessica was here, anyway. The absolute last drama she needed the journalist to know about were her relationship issues.

And it wasn’t even a relationship.

An email notification pinged, blessingly forcing Callie to focus on her work.

“So, how are the skies above us tonight?” Simon asked.

Callie read through the email, and her heart dropped. “Bad.”

“Oh, no.” Jessica leaned closer. “Is there a meteorite heading for us? Aliens? Another planet ?”

“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 too cloudy 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.