Page 143 of Even Beneath the Stars

"Xavier."

"We had a lot to get done."

She pulls her phone from her pocket when it pings and checks the screen, then places it on the counter, her attention back on me. "And school?"

"Keeping up."

"Any grades below a B?"

I roll my eyes. "Mostly B's, one A in English."

She looks surprised. "Well, that's great. You've got a lot on your plate."

"Nothing I can't handle."

Denise hums. "Are you staying in tonight?" She asks. "Your body could probably use the rest after the last few days."

"Actually..." I shift my weight, suddenly aware of my racing pulse. "Maggie's coming over."

Denise's eyes soften as she studies me. "We haven't seen much of her around here lately."

I nod, unable to meet her gaze.

"Everything okay there?" Her voice carries that gentle tone she's used since I was little, the one that says she thinks I need to get something off my chest, and she’s giving me the space to do it.

"I pushed her away." The words scrape my throat. "Figured she'd leave eventually, so..." I run a hand through my hair. "I screwed it up. By making her leave instead."

Denise's phone pings again. She glances at it briefly before turning her full attention back to me.

"I made this terrible diorama thing of the Observatory." A laugh escapes me. "Had Seb deliver it yesterday. Wrote about all the notes she'd been leaving me. How I kept every single one." My voice drops. "I totally cheesed out. I mean, full-on laid everything out for her and now…" I blow out a breath. "Now I'm kinda freaking out."

"Because you feel vulnerable."

"Because I'm terrified I'll still mess everything up," I groan.

Denise's phone buzzes once more. She ignores it completely this time, reaching out to squeeze my arm instead. "Love isn't about being perfect, Xavier. It's about showing up, again and again, even when it's scary."

I just nod.

"For what it's worth," she adds. "I think the two of you are adorable together… And Maggie would be a lucky girl to be with you." She waits until my gaze lifts from the tiled floor and meets hers. "You're a great guy, Xavier." She squeezes my arm. "I'm sorry you don't hear it enough."

Something loosens in my chest at her words and it gives me hope that maybe trying could be enough.

ThatIcould be enough.

The rain taps against the glass dome overhead, a steady rhythm that should be soothing but instead just amplifies my anxiety. I check my phone again. 8:40. She's ten minutes late.

My stomach churns as I pace the circular room. The telescope's brass fittings gleam in the dim light, and I resist the urge to polish them just for something to do with my hands. The spark of confidence that lit just a couple hours ago after my conversation with Denise is long gone. Drenched in doubt.

What was I thinking? Making a kindergarten-level diorama as a sweeping love gesture? After shutting her out for weeks on end. Who fucking does that?

I stop at the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. Below, rain transforms the gardens into a blur of shadows and the ocean into a dark, yawning void.

Maybe she's not coming. Maybe she read my pathetic attempt at explaining myself and decided I'm not worth the trouble. I wouldn't blame her. I lied toher, acted like a total asshole at that party, then shut her out completely when she tried to give me a second chance.

And then what? I try to fix it with some lopsided, glue-saturated craft project?

The memory of finding her notes makes my chest tight - tucked into my guitar case, slipped under my door, even folded into tiny boats and left floating in the pool. Each one a lifeline I ignored because I was too much of a coward to grab hold.

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