He’d been quiet tonight. Not in a bad way, she didn’t think, but a coiled up sort of tension made his shoulders rise and his spine stiffen. The guy had something on his mind.
She had a really bad feeling it was her.
With a sinking feeling in her abdomen, she dropped her gaze.
She’d known from the start that Adam wasn’t the sort of guy you had a quick little summer fling with and then walked away from. The perfect, gorgeous idiot fell in love with his whole damn heart and he held on past the point of reason, past the point of sanity. She knew. She’d watched him do it with Shannon. Hell, he’d said it himself. He’d been clinging to some idea of her long past the point where it made any kind of sense. Fuck if he wasn’t going to do it with Jo, too.
She couldn’t let him. She was such a mess. Her entire life, she’d been holding herself together with fear and anger and resentment, and ever since he’d stripped her of them, peeling them away piece by piece, she’d been holding herself together with his arms. It couldn’t last. Sure, she was a good lay, but when they were half a country apart, she wouldn’t even be able to give him that. She wasn’t here to be saved or to be idealized. She had to figure herself out, see what strings could tie her insides in when she was on her own.
And while she was off doing that, he’d go on and find the perfect, sane girl who’d give him everything he really needed. He deserved that. Not the memory of some pierced-up chick who once upon a time he’d helped a lot.
So why did just the idea of it have to hurt so much?
Before she could dwell on it any more, the bus pulled off the main road, rocking as it hit the unpaved path. Adam squeezed her hand, and the gesture only made it worse. After a few more minutes, they finally came to a stop, and the lights came on, making her wince. Groans came out from around her, so apparently she hadn’t been the only one getting her night vision on.
They filed off the bus and followed their tour leader toward a boat docked at a tiny pier. She accepted her life jacket and climbed aboard, still unable to see what all the fuss was about.
Once everyone was settled in, the boat slipped out into the bay, unusually quiet but for the rushing of water. The lights at the dock receded into the distance.
And then she glanced behind her.
“Adam. Look.”
Behind them, the boat’s wake shimmered with a living, breathing, cascading blue. She looked over the side, and it was everywhere. The boat met liquid and light erupted.
Adam nudged her shoulder and pointed into the distance at trails of brilliance dashing beneath the surface. “Fish.”
And suddenly, she got it. Why they’d come all this way, why they’d had to come at night. Their guide was giving them yet more information about the billions of tiny creatures in the water, responding to motion by emitting light, but Jo was only half listening even now. All she could do was watch.
In the very center of the bay, their pilot cut the engines off. “If anybody wants to, now’s your chance to jump in.”
Jo was the first in line. A quick check of her life vest from their guide, a nod of approval, and then she was jumping. Falling. Plunging.
Into a universe of stars.
Everything was silence, weightless floating and pinpricks of light dissolving into churning swaths of ethereal glow. Each movement of her hand and twitch of her foot. A flash of inspiration, and she twirled, sending brightness spiraling out and swallowing her whole.
She came up when she needed to breathe, breaking surface into cool night air. “Oh my God.”
Adam came up splashing beside her, and she turned to him.
“Oh my God,” she repeated.
His smile was lit by the wash of blue coming up from the water. Tiny trails of luminescence flowed down his hair and across the planes of his chest.
“It’s all stars,” she said, breathless.
“Millions and millions of stars.” He lifted his hand out of the water, and the cosmos poured from his palm.
Because he got it. He understood.
She launched herself at him, and he caught her, their legs tangling, every kick sending blooming clouds of light sweeping out beneath the surface. He trailed his fingers down her cheek. “You’re glowing.”
“So are you.” Just the faintest traces of it when they were still, so she wouldn’t be still. She kissed him hard, licking wonder from his lips and running her hands through his hair. Setting off showers of phosphorescent sparks. She broke the kiss off all at once. “I’m going under again.”
In the end, they dove together, hands entwined, and she opened her eyes underwater to watch the way he moved. The trails of light bloomed out between them.
As soon as they surfaced, she wanted to drop down again. To look at the world from a silent depth. But he pulled her into his arms and kicked his legs higher. She floated supported by him. And she looked up.
The air left her lungs in a rush.
With his mouth against her ear, his breath a warm wash, he said, “I thought the stars at Arecibo were the most beautiful I’d ever seen.”
But these were better. Here on this tiny island, twenty minutes’ ride from the closest town. Floating on a moonless night.
And all at once, it was like his touch was the only thing grounding her. The only thing keeping her from spinning off into some infinity where the sky and the water met, and everything was stars.
Her voice caught, and nothing came out.
“I’m so glad I got to see this here.” He kissed her neck. “With you.”
Just like that, the vastness of it all came crashing down. The boat lurched into focus, the murmurs of amazement from all the others seeping in. She shivered in his arms. “Me too,” she managed, because she was. It would be something to hold on to. Later.
She was still out there, still swimming on a glowing sea.
But already, it felt like a memory.
The three biggest things Adam wanted after they got back to the hotel were a shower, a burger, and at least an hour alone with Jo, preferably in that order. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who was starving, though, because as soon as they were off the bus, Jared was leading the way to the bar next door.
Adam looked to Jo. “Food?”
“All the food,” she agreed, following the herd. Their hands stretched out between them when he hung back. She glanced over her shoulder at him, brow quizzical.
He tugged her toward him. “You okay?”
It’d been dark enough in the bus that he couldn’t exactly say she’d been avoiding his gaze, but she definitely hadn’t been entirely with him. She’d been so joyful while she’d been swimming, lit up like the waters they’d floated on. But sitting in the boat after, listening to the tour guide map out constellations they both knew by heart, she’d withdrawn in a way that hadn’t sat right with him. Still didn’t.
“Fine,” she said.
Yeah, right. “We can go somewhere else.” He swept his hand toward the row of hotels and restaurants lining the strip. “Just the two of us, if you want.”
She shook her head. “Let’s stick with everybody else.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Of course I am.” She leaned in and planted a quick kiss to his lips. Stepping away, she met his gaze. “I promise. Everything’s okay.”
He still didn’t believe it, but how much of a hypocrite would he be to call her on it? He wasn’t “fine” either, but at least he knew what was bothering him. And not knowing what was going on in her head was half of his problem.
“Okay.” He squeezed her hand, and this time when she went to join their group, he took the lead. The things they had to say to each other could wait, at least long enough to get some grub.