Page 37 of Wish For Me

“Yes,” I manage.

Noelle nods, pinching her lips together and looking away, blinking fast. “It’s scary. Are you scared?”

I run a hand over the back of my neck. “Shitless.”

“But you’re excited, too, right?”

I smile. “When Larry made the announcement—he’s my boss—I yelled. We were all at this meeting, and I jumped up and yelled like a little kid.”

Noelle laughs. But a moment later, her smile falters. “It’s risky though, right?”

I can’t help the warmth that spreads through me at her constantly coming back to concern.

“You’re worried about me?”

“Of course I’m worried about you!”

I consider my words carefully. “There’s always risk.”

“How much?”

“Well there are no birds in space, if that helps.”

“Shut up,” she laughs. But she’s serious again in an instant. She walks back to me and presses her hands against my shirt, brushing off a bit of flour. “How much, Leif? How likely is it that I’m never going to see you again?”

I clench my jaw. I can’t lie. “1.2-1.4%. But there haven’t been any fatal space trips since 2003.”

“1.4%” she whispers.

“That’s a generous number. It’s not likely that—”

“How many times have we seen each other?”

“What?”

She grips my shirt in her fists. “Just answer me, Leif. I know you can add it up.”

I brush the hair from her forehead. I don’t have to think. “Four years.”

“How many days?”

“Twelve days. Sixteen if you count the times we talked on your parents’ phone.”

But I only needed one to know I loved you.

I don’t say that, of course. Instead, I say “Sixteen days over four years. I say each day counts for at least a month.”

But Noelle’s doing her own calculations. “Sixteen days. Okay. And we kissed on one of those days.”

It was more than just a kiss. But I don’t say that either.

“So our odds of kissing each other are 6.5% higher than you not surviving this trip.”

My statistics prof’s head might pop off at that math, but heat curls in my lower half. I cram my fists back in my jeans, not wanting to disrespect her request that we stay friends. “What are you saying, Noelle?”

But I’m interrupted by Noelle slipping her arms around my neck. “I want better odds.”

I’m so stunned by the touch—the soft press and warmth of her lips against mine—I don’t even kiss her back before she pulls away again.

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