Page 228 of Call the Shots
“Look,” June urged.
Oh.
There were miles of sprawling Houston streets below us and downtown sparkled in the beginning of night, all blues and golds. Up here, the air smelled crisper, fresher, and I took deep breaths, watching the cars racing below us, crisscross through the city, everything so alive. I settled next to her, stretching my legs out.
“It’s been…” she trailed off, resting her cheek on my shoulder. “I wanted to come here with you. Have a break.”
I pulled her to me, watching as the sky darkened from a deep, endless blue to the hints of stars. Yeah. It was a goddamn incredible view.
“Astronomical twilight,” she whispered.
I nodded. “Sky radiation.”
“Solar elevation angle.”
“Uh…stars. Sky. Telescope.”
She giggled. “That’s what we’ll do—write sporadic terms on the paper and call it a day.”
“Call it a night.”
She snickered and I squeezed her waist. More stars twinkled in the distance and Dr. Schulman’s lectures came back to me. You know, the important stuff. Tugging June’s chair closer and using our professor’s pauses to run my hand over her thigh under the desk.
“Forty?”
“Mm?”
“How did you convince Dr. Schulman to offer extra credit?”
I chuckled. “I told him why we study astronomy.”
“What’d you say?”
“Because if Ionlystudied what I needed for my career, I’d be a huge dipshit. And it’s good to branch out to stuff you think you don’t like because maybe you’ll realize it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“You like astronomy that much?”
“I meantyou.”
Her laugh was music. “You’re such an ass kisser.”
“There’s a bite mark on your ass to prove it.” I grinned. “Yeah, I went to his office hours and broke down in an hour spiel about how I’m in love with you. Really pathetic stuff, anyone would’ve thought you had me at gunpoint to do it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her mouth fall open. “Oh my god.No.”
“He was really uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t have to do that—” An incredulous laugh burst out of her. “I’m sorry, Bear?—”
Enjoying the sound of her laugh, I held in the rest of the story. There was another part and it wasn’t funny. When her laugh eased, I waited a little, weaving my fingers through hers. “And—uh—we talked about other stuff.”
“Other stuff?”
“His wife died of breast cancer a couple of years ago.”
Her eyes were on me again. “Oh.”
“Yeah. I talked about my mom’s diagnosis.”
