Page 14 of Starrily (Perks of Being #2)

Chapter 14

C allie did a double take. “Simon?” He couldn’t be here. She was dreaming. Or the plane had crashed, and she was dying, and these were her last senseless thoughts.

“The one and only.” He winked, very much like the real Simon. Based on the complicated mix of feelings surging through her—nervousness from the upcoming flight, a string of happiness from him being here, and a lot of confusion—she could only surmise this was real.

“How?” she got out.

“Well, I never had a twin. That I know of. Wouldn’t it be fun if I had an evil twin?”

“I mean, how are you here?”

“Jessica had a work emergency. Everyone else was busy, so I volunteered.”

“She didn’t call me.”

“It all happened very fast.” He tucked the sunglasses into his t-shirt. “So, off we go.”

“But she was supposed to document my work.”

“I’ll take pictures with my phone. Jessica said that’ll do.”

Besides running out of excuses, Callie realized she couldn’t get him out of here. He had his plane ticket, and if he wanted to come, he could.

It was fine. Everything was fine. She only had two nights at the telescope, and she’d be busy most of the time. If Simon wanted to go hitchhiking or throw himself off the mountain in one of his extreme sports, so be it.

She would be in the control room, eyes glued to the screen, ignoring his presence and that pesky part of her that kept trying to smile because he was here, and secretly, she wanted his company more than Jessica’s.

“If that’s what you want,” she said, in as neutral a tone as possible, redirected her eyes forward, and put the earphones back in.

Simon smirked, then started a conversation with the woman in the seat next to him.

In San Diego, they rented a car and drove out of the city. Mountains rose ahead and civilization gradually dwindled behind them as the paved road turned into a gravel one. They didn’t talk much—Simon observed Callie’s choice of a car, a sunny yellow Volkswagen Beetle, with a smile but made no remarks about it. He did volunteer to drive, which gave Callie the excuse to keep her eyes away from him and watch the landscape instead. Shrubbery had never been so fascinating before.

After a couple of hours’ drive, they reached the observatory: a white-domed building at the top of a mountain. A smaller adjacent house contained the living quarters for whoever was working with the telescope. The parking area extended into a viewing point with a rustic wooden fence, offering a magnificent vista from the mountain.

“Cozy,” Simon remarked as they left the car and headed to the entrance. Callie punched in the code, and musty darkness greeted them. Lights flickered, illuminating a tiny hallway with white walls and floor and three other doors.

“I’m changing that to claustrophobic,” Simon corrected himself.

“You, afraid of a narrow hallway? Don’t tell me you’ve never squeezed yourself through an underground cave or something.”

“I haven’t. I don’t like squeezing my body into tight places.” Simon walked forward and opened the door to the telescope area. “Now that’s what we’re talking about. Look at this bad baby.”

Callie wanted to admonish him for calling an intricate piece of equipment a “bad baby,” but then she looked past him, and any annoyance dissipated. It was magnificent. Not as large as some other telescopes, but it was beautiful, nonetheless.

“Be careful not to touch anything,” she said when Simon made a few steps into the room. “You don’t want to mess with the calibrations.”

“Got it. Just looking.”

She made her way to the control room. A long work table spread from one side to the other, laden with computers and monitors, some attached to the wall. Post-it notes let her know which settings to leave alone. There was a bobblehead figure of a cartoonish alien, and a poster on the wall saying Beam me up, Scotty .

“Where is everyone?” Simon hovered at the doorstep.

“There is no one. The Falton Observatory doesn’t have constant personnel on site. The astronomers take their measurements themselves.”

“Hold on.” Simon leaned in the doorway. “It’s just you and me?”

Oh. Right. That wasn’t a problem when she’d thought it would be her and Jessica. She hadn’t considered Simon taking her place.

She moved past him and opened the last door, connected to the smaller building. A couple of countertops with a microwave, a narrow bed pushed to the other wall, and a tiny bathroom hidden behind another door.

Simon’s clothes brushed along her back as he leaned past her to scope the living quarters. “You know what?” he said. “I think I’ll sleep in the car.”

Callie unpacked her bag—a change of clothes, a laptop, and some toiletries—and, over the next few hours, got familiar with the telescope and the control room. As the evening drew near, she switched on the telescope’s camera so it could cool down before she took her test pictures.

“Here you are.” Simon peeked into the room. “Come outside.”

“I still have things …”

“The sky isn’t even dark yet. What else do you need to do?”

Nothing. She only had to wait. So she followed Simon outside.

“Over here.” He led her to the fence. Dry mountains, dotted with green bushes and shrubbery, spread as far as the eye could see, not a building in sight. The oncoming sunset spilled rivers of gold and orange into the green and blue shades of the slopes. It was vast and peaceful and oh-so-beautiful that Callie wished she could stay here forever, frozen together with the receding sun.

They stood in silence, enjoying the view and the fresh mountain air until the sun set and only a strip of orange remained in the darkening sky.

“Time to go take the test pictures,” she said.

“Already? I can’t see anything yet.” Simon squinted at the sky.

“I need pictures of the blank sky for comparison later. You can come document it. Although I imagine for you, it won’t be very exciting.”

Simon shrugged. “Never say no.” And he followed her.

Callie took the test pictures, then waited for the sky to darken completely. Stars blinked into existence, one by one, and she explained to Simon how she needed to find a guide star for the telescope to point at, which would help it stay aligned during the night. To his credit, he listened attentively, writing everything down, and took a few pictures of Callie in the control room.

“Now we set the exposure time, and we’re done,” she said. “The telescope camera will do the rest.”

Simon stretched on his chair. “Okay. Calling it a night. Literally.”

“You go. I’ll stay here to monitor the results.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s better if I’m present. If the weather worsens, I’ll have to stabilize the telescope.”

“As you wish, Night Phoenix.”

“You can take the bed,” she said as he moved to leave. “I won’t be using it at night, anyway.”

He shook his head in pretend disappointment. “And I was looking forward to the car.”

After he left, Callie settled deeper into the not-overly-comfortable chair. It wasn’t long before she started yawning, and she reached for her phone, fingers hovering over the music selection.

ABBA might just keep her awake.

The door behind her opened, nearly startling her off the chair.

“Midnight meal.” Simon carefully maneuvered into the room. He held a mug of hot cocoa in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. “Guess who left us snacks.” He squinted. “Bad question—I’ve no idea who. But whether they wanted to help us or left them behind by accident, it’s too late. All the snacks are mine now.” He put the plate and the mug down in front of her. “By which I mean, yours.”

“Uh—thank you,” Callie said, flustered.

“I warmed up the cookies.”

She hadn’t even realized she was hungry. The gooey chocolatey center of the cookie tasted like absolute heaven, and soon, she was all over them and only managed another “Thanks” at Simon as she gulped them down with the cocoa.

“Your wish is my command.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but …” he cocked his head at the plate. “Clearly, the desire was there.”

“You don’t want any?”

“It’s fine. I also found microwave popcorn. I don’t suppose you have a movie to watch it with?”

Funny he’d say that—she’d considered putting one on to help her stay awake.

But that would mean she’d be staying awake with Simon.

“I …”

“You have work. I understand. No more distractions.”

She wanted to correct him—to say the work wasn’t intense, just long-lasting, and watching a movie sounded perfect. But as she considered that, it seemed Simon was also considering something. His hand twitched, and he opened his mouth—and then shut it.

“It’s best if you go to sleep,” she said. “That way, we can rotate bed shifts.”

“Of course. Sensible.” He disappeared.

Night turned into morning, and stars began to fade. Callie closed the camera shutter and the telescope dome and groggily headed out, pausing in front of the living quarters. Simon was still sleeping inside, and her belly fluttered at the thought of peeking in. The night he stayed at her apartment, he woke up before she did, and she couldn’t stop wondering how he’d look like sleeping, with the first rays of sun caressing his face…

Well, you’re not going to find out. She bit her lip in determination and exited the observatory instead. She stepped around the building, found the rising sun, and tilted her face toward it.

“Morning,” a voice came about a minute later. Simon stood at the observatory building in yesterday’s crumpled clothes.

“Did you even sleep?” Thank the Universe she didn’t enter the living quarters if he’d been awake all this time. Then she’d have to explain her stalking instincts on top of everything else.

“I did. What I didn’t do is pack right for this trip.” He brushed down the front of the shirt. “By the way, the bed is surprisingly comfortable, and you look like you need it.”

She must’ve been extremely sleepy because she suddenly wanted to ask him to carry her to the bed and snuggle with her. She knew she was an idiot, but something about early morning Simon made him so snuggly. Like she could curl up next to him, and he’d feel warm and smell of soap and mountain air—

Okay. Off to bed, straight away. Alone.

“I will,” she said, not caring much if her answer made sense. Nothing about her wants made sense at the moment, anyway.

The morning passed in deep, satisfying sleep. Once Callie woke up, she and Simon lunched on grilled cheese sandwiches and roasted marshmallows, all thanks to a mini campfire Simon improvised at the viewpoint. She got out of a potential post-lunch conversation by going to check her data, and before she knew it, afternoon had turned into evening, and it was time for her second night of chaperoning the telescope.

It was nearing midnight, and thanks to her power nap, Callie was doing pretty well on the wakefulness scale. She’d been swiveling in her chair, shuffling through her playlist to find something that fit her mood, when Simon popped into the control room.

“Hey,” he said, “mind coming outside for a bit?”

“We shouldn’t go into the telescope room. We can’t let any light disturb the camera.”

“I mean outside outside.”

She instinctively wrapped her sweater tighter around her. “It’s cold. And pitch black.”

“Come, Phoenix. Have some courage.”

For him, that was easy to say. He lived with the absence of any fear.

While she had surrendered everything to it.

But he looked so eager, and with the slight tilt of his lips in an encouraging smile, she couldn’t say no. She checked her telescope settings and followed Simon outside.

He headed to the viewpoint, and she soon saw why. He’d spread a blanket on the ground and left another heap to the side. Candles were set on the corners of the blanket, providing minimum illumination—just enough to guide her through the deep darkness of the night. It was cold, but the setup looked incredibly warm and welcoming. Romantic, even.

As if the word itself hit a brake in her brain, she stopped. “Simon, no—I have to go back.”

She turned, but he caught her by the hand. “Please. Wait.”

His voice was soft, gentle. She couldn’t see his face in the dark, save for the shine in his eyes, catching the candlelight as he glanced at the blanket. “Stay with me. Just for a bit.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say no, so she said nothing and let him lead her to the blanket. He took another one from the pile and wrapped it around her shoulders. His knee brushed against hers as he sat down beside her.

“Look.” He pointed at the night sky.

Her breath caught. The sky was littered with stars, so many that calling it dark felt horrifically unfair. In an arc above them spread the silvery belt of the Milky Way, disappearing into the dark outlines of the mountains.

She spent every day looking at pictures of space, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gazed at the night sky. And certainly not the last time she’d seen it in such splendor.

“It might be the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.” Simon turned his head to the side. “Actually, second most beautiful.”

“It is.” She was perfectly content staying here, looking at the sky. For the moment, it didn’t matter which star belonged to which galaxy, how far away they were, and what secrets the Universe held, hidden far beyond what she could see. She wasn’t Dr. Calliope Guidry, PhD. She was just Callie, a girl who liked to look at the stars and dream.

Once upon a time, that girl only dreamed of space. Even the Callie of two months ago only dreamed of space and its infinite mysteries. But the Callie of tonight—she dreamed of so much more. Of having a life she wasn’t afraid of living, of having someone she wouldn’t be afraid of losing. Of shedding all of her fears and telling Simon he might be that one. That she wanted to see him every morning when she woke up—whether he’d still be in the bed next to her, or in the kitchen, preparing an early breakfast while singing a jaunty tune.

“I have something for you.” Simon leaned to the side and pulled a flat white box from underneath the remaining blanket. It was bound with a simple satin ribbon; Callie undid the bow and opened it.

A smooth stream of dark silk spilled onto her arms. A shawl, painted by hand, in shades of blue and purple, sprinkled with tiny planets and galaxies.

“It’s not meant to replace the one I lost you,” Simon said. “It had special meaning to you, and I won’t overwrite that. I just wanted to give you something back.”

“You …”

“I painted it, as it might be painfully obvious.” He chuckled. “I don’t think I have a future in art …”

“It’s lovely.” She swallowed. What could she even say to such a gift? Such a sentiment? “Thank you.”

“No, I’m the one who should thank you.” He looked at her, the softest smile playing on his lips. “I’ve had an interesting few years. I wouldn’t call it rough, because that’s not the predominant feeling about them, but there have been some struggles.”

“With the company?”

“With myself.” He looked at the ground. “Somewhere along the way, I lost, forgot , a part of me. And I didn’t even realize I’d been missing it until I met you.” He laughed. “I know that sounds cheesy. But there are things I used to love and forgot about them—and when I started working with you, I remembered that love anew.”

“Astronomy,” she remembered. “You suddenly knew things I didn’t think you would.”

He nodded. “Some, I remembered on my own. Others, I started studying again.”

Strange that he’d forget the things he used to love. Maybe he just got too busy with the company? Or did his accident have something to do with it?

“So that scarf is for you,” he said. “To hopefully not think of me as the man who’s made life worse for you, but as someone whose life you made better.”

“You didn’t make my life worse.” The words were inadequate to express just how far from the truth his statement was.

“Good. I was …” he let out a short, nervous laugh. “I was hoping for that.”

In the back of her mind, an alarm blared. Don’t get close. Don’t do this to yourself. There’s nothing but suffering in it.

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I have to go.”

“Wait.”

“The instruments—I have to check for the weather—”

“There isn’t a cloud in the sky. Your telescope is fine.” He shifted on the blanket and gently cupped her face with one hand to make her look at him. “Let me say one more thing.”

“Simon …”

“One more.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and nodded.

“Jessica didn’t have a work emergency. I asked her if I could come here instead. I wanted to because I need to talk with you, and I found no other way, or the right time, to do it.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “I don’t know why you’re running away from this. If it’s my fault, say so. If it’s something yours, and yours alone, and you don’t want to tell me—that’s also fine. But you have to make up your mind. For the sake of both of us.” He caressed her cheek. “Decide, Calliope. You can tell me to leave, and I will. After we return home tomorrow, you never have to see me again. Or you can tell me to stay, but you have to stand behind it. I don’t need to know your secrets, but I need to know how you feel. I need to know that you, too, will stay.”

There were no more hints of a smile, not on his lips nor in his eyes. No more joking, no more teasing; he meant everything he said, and as she stared into his eyes, dark and glittery and magical, like the sky above, Callie realized the big logical flaw in her plan.

She didn’t want to get close to Simon because, in a hypothetical future, she was afraid of losing him. But by pushing him away, she’d already lost him.

Almost. There was one chance left, the last sliver of hope hovering between them.

So, for the first time in twenty years, Calliope Guidry decided to be brave. In half an intake of a breath, she closed the distance between them and kissed him.

At first, Simon must’ve been shocked, because his free hand still hovered over her back, as if he was afraid of touching her. But then he smiled, and of all of his smiles, she loved this one the most, because she could feel it against her lips. She climbed onto his lap, and his hands closed around her waist, while hers held the sides of his face and ruffled his hair.

“Callie,” he whispered before he sought her lips again, slowly pushing in, letting their tastes mingle. His was that of the best dream she’d ever had, of a bright summer day and a warm autumnal night. It was comfort and delight, safety and adventure—it was everything she’d taken out of her life, and he’d brought back.

Snuggled in his embrace, she pushed further in, as if she could somehow make their bodies meld together. Blankets slipped off and pooled around them. Simon used one hand as support as he leaned back and, with the other still securing her back, guided her down until she lay on top of him.

“I don’t think there’ll be a bed problem tonight,” he said.

She giggled, then hid her face in the crook of his neck, feeling a blush coming on.

“Don’t hide.” He lifted her chin with his fingers. “You’re so pretty when you smile.”

“You’re talking too much.” She shut him up with another kiss. His chest shook from laughter, vibrating beneath her, and she revered in the feeling of touching him, holding him—

She slipped, and her right elbow hit the ground, making her wince as numbness spread from her funny bone. She looked at her arm, unsure of how she’d managed to slip off Simon—and screamed.

Simon’s entire left arm was gone.

She lifted to a sitting position. Simon stared at her, confused. “Callie?” he said, clear worry in his voice—but not for himself. For her.

She gasped and covered her mouth with a trembling hand as she pointed at his missing arm. It was hard to discern in the low light, but the arm was fine at the shoulder, and then it … faded.

“What’s wrong? Callie, what’s wrong?”

“Your arm. Your arm isn’t there.” She clenched her hand into a fist and bit on it. “Don’t you see it? Your left arm is—are you okay? How are you not feeling it? Where did it go?”

Simon looked down. “What do you mean? It’s right here.”

“It’s gone!”

“Callie, my arm is—” He bent toward her with the left side of his body, and she felt something cold pass through her shoulder. Simon stopped and paled. “Shit.”

“What’s going on?” She bolted upright. “Simon? Talk to me.”

He stared at where his arm should be and passed his hand through the empty space. “Oh, no. No.”

“Simon!” Just as she screamed, the arm reappeared.

Simon got up, carefully stretching the fingers of his previously-missing, newly-acquired hand. “All right, calm down.” She wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or himself—but he wasn’t as nearly as shocked as he should be.

“What’s going on?” she asked again. Surely, there was a plausible explanation. It was dark; maybe it was an optical illusion.

“Okay.” Simon looked at her, reaching out with his hands as if trying to reassure a frightened puppy. “This is going to sound bizarre …” His eyes met hers, and for the time first ever, she’d seen him afraid. “But I think I’m turning into a ghost.”