Page 6 of Wild Skies

I stare at the dark shape of him. Can’t make out his expression, nor his body language. Not when it’s this dark, with everyone’s flashlights carefully switched off, and only starlight to cast shadows.

“Forgive me,” the professor says, so gruff and quiet that I nearly miss it amid all the excited shouts. I shake my head, but I guess he can’t really see me either. “You’d better, ah… you should find a telescope, Maren.”

Right.

Because that’s what we hiked all the way up this mountain for, carrying all this heavy equipment. To see the meteor shower. Not for me to cling to my handsome older professor like a life raft in a storm. Why did I do that? So embarrassing.

“S-sorry.” Turning on my heel, I scuttle away as fast as I can in the darkness.

But hey, at least no one can see my cheeks flaming.

Four

Greg

Three days and nights pass, and I keep a careful distance from Maren Olsen for all of them. Whenever I feel her gaze on me up at the viewing point, I stare up at the night sky. Whenever she wanders in my direction at camp, I find an urgent task to do on the bus. It’s ridiculous, but it works.

Ineedto stay away from Maren. I clearly cannot be trusted with her up close, and we still have over a week together on this trip.

Keeping my distance is the only way I won’t cross any lines.

“Hey, Professor!”

A soaked football flies at me, water droplets spraying off it as it spirals. I catch it easily from the river bank, then toss it back at the students in the water. Rex jumps for it like a leaping salmon, then crashes beneath the surface with a splash.

Shrieks and laughter fill the air, but my smile feels forced. Unnatural.

Maren is in the river, wearing a pale blue bikini, her blonde hair braided back. She’s slender and lithe, with cute little curvesand a toned stomach. The sight of her is more wickedly arousing than any fantasy I could dream up.

Two of the male students keep watching her, trying to swim closer and splash her, coaxing her into playing around. So far, she hasn’t gotten too close to any of them, but it’s only a matter of time before they start scooping her up against their bare chests, throwing her up in the air to make her laugh. Wet skin against wet skin.

Teeth grinding, I look away and scan the riverbank instead, waving stiffly at a group of locals on a picnic blanket.

It’s an event for the nearest town today—the first big cookout of spring. Everyone swims in the river then lazes on the bank and eats fresh burgers from the grill. I brought the students along to mix with the locals and make nice, and to give everyone a break from camp, but now I’m questioning my own sanity.

Maren. In a bikini. With guys her own age panting over her perfect, tight body, trying to mess around with her and get her to flirt back.

Heart pounding, I roll my stiff neck.

“You’re not going in?”

One of the local men stops on his way past me on the grassy bank, a little girl perched on his shoulders. The guy is big and bearded, with a deep tan that says he spends most of his hours outdoors—so different from the sun-starved academics back on campus.

“No. I mean—I’d better keep an eye on them.”

It’s true. So why does it feel like I’m making excuses?

“Really?” The man turns and squints at my splashing crowd of students, holding his daughter’s ankles in a loose grip. She’s up there chattering to herself, tugging on two handfuls of her dad’s dark hair. “Because those all look like grown adults to me. Besides, there are plenty of folks keeping an eye out today. Live a little, man. The water’s great. Right, Ellie?”

His daughter blows a raspberry.

I laugh uneasily and nod. “Maybe.”

The man pats my shoulder and walks on.

And… itdoeslook inviting—crystal clear and fresh. Especially with the hot sun beating down on the back of my neck. It’s the hottest day of our trip so far, and the weak, lukewarm showers at the campsite didn’t really cut it this morning. Now my shirt is sticking to my lower back, and my clothes feel itchy and hot.

Should I?

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