Page 42 of With Stars in Her Eyes

Thea

“Speaking of seeing stars.” I rolled over to face Courtney. Based on the shift in sunlight, we had definitely been in bed for many, many hours.

Courtney’s eyes remained closed. “When were we speaking of seeing stars?”

“Weren’t we?” I touched Courtney’s sternum.

“ No , we weren’t because you were in a sex coma.”

“Brought about by coming so hard that I saw stars. Which was your fault.” I couldn’t help my slight giggle.

“I feel like there was a lot of group effort involved.” Courtney’s eyes remained closed, but she pulled me to her.

I shifted closer so I could whisper in her ear. “Pretty sure that last time, I said I wanted to go get a cupcake and then you decided to eat me out instead.”

“Are you complaining about getting to be a pillow princess sometimes?”

“I would never complain about being treated like a princess.”

Courtney yawned. “Have we ever figured out what time it is?” Her hand cradled the soft curve of my stomach.

“Why don’t you have a clock in here?”

“I usually have my phone.” She nestled into my chest.

“Where is your phone?”

“Downstairs dead,” she said with a contented smile.

“What if there was an emergency?”

“If there’s an emergency we should definitely stay inside and stay naked.”

“How would the nakedness help?” I traced the line of her nose and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“No idea where I was going with that to be honest. What were you saying about seeing stars?”

“I want to go see some of the photos.” I adjusted my nose ring. Somehow my brain had turned on, and I couldn’t go back to sleep.

“Couldn’t we just look at the digital camera?”

“Yes, but I could also go develop the film ones, and you should probably also charge your phone.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you have big legal stuff going on?”

“Oh yeah. I guess that’s true.” Courtney was unfortunately an adorable pouter.

“And Marshall probably thinks I’m dead, so I should call him.”

“Or…” Courtney kissed me.

“Nope.” I pushed her away gently. “I want to see how the photos turned out. I also need to go home and get clothes.”

“Clothes are completely unnecessary if you just stay here,” Courtney said in a slight whine.

“Come over to the studio in a few hours, okay?” I kissed her forehead.

Courtney closed her eyes.

I rolled out of bed and pulled on the sweatshirt and shorts I was wearing earlier.

If anyone could understand how a weird artistic fervor could draw a person out of bed way too early, it was the gorgeous woman drifting back to sleep in front of me.

With a last long look at Courtney looking otherworldly and beautiful while sleeping, I headed out the door.

I hung the last of the developed prints on the clothesline.

I’d scanned most of the film into my computer, but when I saw how the first few photos of Courtney turned out, I couldn’t wait to get them on paper.

I was feeling a little lightheaded because I had definitely not hydrated enough after the time spent in Courtney’s bed.

My mom called twenty times since last night.

I called her back to make sure she didn’t call the FBI or something, but somehow, I found the confidence to get off the phone in a reasonable amount of time.

She wasn’t happy, but I had work I was excited to do.

And if my mom was going to make me feel weird about having boundaries, maybe the problem was with my mom, not the boundaries.

Lightbulb moments kept coming as I worked through the photos.

A couple of my exes had said my people-pleasing was a problem.

As a Libra, I wasn’t exactly surprised to hear that, but maybe that was part of why people didn’t share themselves with me.

Maybe it’s because people wondered if the open part of me was real.

Not that anyone had stuck around long enough to find out though.

“Thea?” a voice called out from the front room. I replaced the developing chemicals in their jugs and flipped on the light.

“I’m back here.”

The door creaked open. “Whoa.” Courtney wore a variation of her usual T-shirt and jeans combination.

“Ms. Jeannie was right that this space was perfect.”

“I’d say you should tell her that, but I think she already knows.”

I checked on the unspooled film that was still drying in long ribbons in the back. “That woman thinks of everything. I hadn’t even considered setting up a film studio like what I used to have at my grandfather’s house.”

“She really does…” Courtney smiled. “Can I look at the photos?”

“They’re still wet, so don’t touch them, but…” I gestured that Courtney should follow me to find one particular print. I had actually shrieked—okay, maybe screamed—when I first saw the film negative.

“Holy shit, Thea.” Courtney whistled low.

“You like it?”

“It’s so cool.”

Courtney was a ghostly presence in the foreground. You could just make out her facial features. The stunning part was how the short star trails arced over her head. It looked photoshopped and the fact that it wasn’t made the effect even cooler.

“It’s not perfect, and I could definitely design the shot better if I thought about it more ahead of time but overall—”

A kiss interrupted my self-criticism. “It truly looks so cool.” Courtney’s eyes swept around the room. “Which others are your favorite?”

I led her through the small space and pointed out a couple truly beautiful ones of Courtney in the golden hour. Her hand found my lower back whenever I pointed out features of the photos. Being touched like this, having her this close, was addictive.

When Courtney had seen all the prints, I brought up some of the ones I had not had time to print on my laptop while talking her through (probably info dumping) the film room setup when a strange, strained expression appeared on Courtney’s face.

She was staring at the photo hanging at her eye level.

Courtney was pretending to play the cello in it.

After seeing Courtney play today, it was clear she had been making exactly the same expression in the golden-hour photo.

It was like she could transport herself to a stage just by pretending to hold her instrument.

What had been a strained tension pulling on her facial muscles now appeared broken. So broken it nearly cracked my heart in half to see her staring like that.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“It’s… it’s nothing.”

I took Courtney’s hands in mine and led her into the main area of the studio. I had thought maybe the smell of the chemicals had bothered her, but even after we sat on the worn futon, she didn’t speak. I didn’t fill the silence. I waited.

Courtney stared forward just as she had in the darkroom. Now, her gaze was fixed on the golden astrolabe she had been excited about when I first brought her here.

She exited her trance as quickly as she had entered it and squeezed my hands between hers.

“Sorry for going quiet. Just thinking about touring… it gets me in my feelings. I’m on the verge of giving up a lot of dreams, and some days it feels like a relief and others it feels like the end of the world. ”

“Why?”

“Because I love it. But I don’t know if I can do it again. I don’t know if I can stand up there and fail again.”

I nodded once and spoke gently. “I meant why are you giving it up?”

“What?” Courtney faced me with a shocking amount of surprise at the question.

“It seems like it’s inside you. I don’t know the full story obviously. And I can’t imagine what it was like to have something like a migraine like that happen in front of people, but… will you regret giving it up if you don’t try again?”

“Probably.” Courtney’s face shifted.

My heart sank. I had seen Courtney do this before.

Something inside her was falling apart, but instead of falling apart on the outside, she shut down all the externalization on command.

It was disturbing to watch it happen, especially because she didn’t need to do that with me.

Some people might read her as stoic or flat, but, fuck, they would be so wrong.

It was like Courtney felt everything, and I could practically feel the bottled-up everything emanating from her.

“Do you have to make a decision right now?”

“Pretty much in the next couple of weeks.” Courtney slowly inhaled and exhaled. “Sam said I should try psilocybin to try to manage the PTSD.” Courtney laughed like the idea was ridiculous.

“Oh my god, you totally should. The research is wild. It can be so effective.” I nodded emphatically.

“What? No. I mean, I looked at the research, but I just couldn’t make myself—”

“Why not?” I touched her chin. “You’re clearly devastated about this part of who you are, and we should try.”

“We?”

“I’m up for anything. I wonder where we could order on such short—”

“Oh, I have some. That’s not the issue.”

“Wait, what? You have some what? You have some psilocybin already?”

“Ms. Jeannie gave me some. I guess her and Marshall’s dad help out with some research institute at the university and—”

“Marshall’s dad, Dexter Greene PharmD, who used to fill my antibiotic prescriptions when I got strep throat in preschool, is your magic mushrooms dealer?” I doubled over with laughter. “What in the world?”

“As Sam tells it, I think he’s just a retired pharmacist who saw behind the curtain of modern medicine and didn’t like the impact of capitalism and politics on the industry. Honestly, I think these days he’s kind of an anarchist too.”

“Jesus, Mr. Greene has sure changed in twenty years.” I stood from the futon, extending my hand to Courtney.

“Where you…?”

“Where are ‘we’ going you mean.” I bent and planted a kiss on Courtney’s nose. “You and I are going on a little trip.”