Page 1 of Wild Skies

One

Maren

One month ago

The lecture hall is packed full of people, with rows and rows of glowing laptop screens. The gym bro on my left is on a sports news site; the bookish girl on my right is bidding on a collectible stuffed toy on eBay. All around, people murmur and sip coffee, lazily checking their emails.

As soon as the door opens and our astronomy professor strides inside, raising a hand to the audience, the laptop screens all switch to blank documents. Fingers hover over keyboards, ready to type.

It’s 8am on a Thursday, but Astronomy 101 always draws a crowd—even if ninety percent of the students have giant take-out coffee cups wedged beside their laptops. They’re yawning, but they’re here.

“Morning, everyone.”

Tall, dark-haired and handsome, the professor gives a crooked smile as he steps behind the podium. He’s dressed indark gray pants and a white button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up his forearms and the collar undone. He’s fit, with broad shoulders and a muscled chest obvious beneath the shirt fabric. Like Clark Kent retired from journalism and got contacts.

“Before we get started.”

The professor’s voice is low and smooth. Decadent. The kind of voice you might hear narrating a luxury chocolate commercial. And when he speaks, everyone in the lecture hall sits up a tiny bit straighter, me included. My heart pitter-patters underneath my thin blue sweater, and I squeeze my pen tight.

Correction: Astronomy 101 doesn’t draw this big a crowd at 8am every Thursday. That’s all Professor Gregory Carter. The man ismagnetic.

“As of today,” the professor says, scanning the first few rows of students, “sign ups are open for the spring break astronomy field trip. We’ll be heading up into the mountains for the Thelseid meteor shower. It’s forecast to be a real display this year. We’ll be taking high powered telescopes, recording equipment, the whole nine yards, and with any luck, we’ll come back with valuable data and some great memories.”

Excited whispers breeze across the lecture hall, everyone elbowing each other and grinning. My teeth dig into my bottom lip—hard.

I want to be on that trip.

Ineedto be on that trip.

Not to see a Thelseid meteor shower, though that would be cool. No: to spend time with Professor Carter, and see what he’s like away from campus. To soothe the low ache that started in the pit of my stomach the very first time I laid eyes on him.

To quiet the instinct that whispers in the back of my head that Professor Carter ismine.

Listen, I’m not deluded. I realize that a world famous professor would never want me back. To him, I’m nothing.No one. A lowly, anonymous student… albeit one he stares at sometimes.

But for the last few months, this restless feeling has only gone away when Professor Carter is near, and I want to see how I’d feel close-up. Whether the instincts would quieten down, or if they’d scream louder instead.

Hm. Maybe I’m a masochist.

“A few words of warning, though.”

The professor’s gaze is calm as he scans along each row of students, making his way steadily up the lecture hall. It’s almost like he’s looking for someone. Nerves and excitement squirm in my belly at the thought.

“This isn’t a luxury trip. We’ll be camping in the wilderness. There are snakes and bears and wolves in the area.”

The girl on my right lets out a tiny squeak of fear, sinking down on the bench. Some of the grins around us start to fade.

“We’ll have to carry all our equipment for a mile over rocky terrain to get to the mountain peak,” he goes on. “We’ll do that round trip almost every night. It will be hard work, and everyone on the trip must contribute.” The professor gives another crooked smile, still scanning the rows. “Telescopes are heavy. I can’t carry it all alone.”

On those shoulders? I bet he could.

“For those who are still interested, there’s one more warning. This is real camping, on a rudimentary site. There are basic facilities and hot showers, but there will be no phone signal or WiFi for the full two weeks.”

The gym bro next to me sighs and sits back. All across the rows in front, students are whispering again and shaking their heads—but not all of them. There are still plenty like me, sitting bolt upright and hanging on Professor Carter’s every word.

My fingers flex around my pen. Oh, god.

What if I don’t get on this trip? What if I spend the whole of spring break here, lonely and miserable on campus? Missing a man who probably doesn’t even know my name?

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