Page 3 of Starrily
Around him, others had similar problems with control. They floated around the cabin, laughing and apologizing for bumping into each other. Simon oriented himself and, using a safety net as a guide, propelled himself toward his dancing partner.
She extended a hand and smiled. “I’m not sure I’ll be a very graceful dancer.”
“I don’t think any of us are graceful at the moment.” And off they went. They circled the cabin, pushing off walls and floating to the other side, laughing way too much to care that their dance looked nothing like a dance.
“It’s a good thing nobody is taking pictures—” He bumped into something. Someone, based on a little yelp behind his back, and then—
“Seriously?”
Oh, no. Not her. True, there were only twenty people in here, and they were all crowded in a reasonably small place, but of those twenty people, did it have to be Phoenix?
She couldn’t be more than a few inches over five feet, but floating, their eyes were level—and hers looked less than impressed despite her not appearing injured.
One more try.He wasn’t in the habit of letting people dislike him. “Sorry.” He smiled and scratched the back of his head, where they’d made contact. “People do say I’m thick-headed.”
No smile from her. Only a short wrinkling of her eyebrows as she grabbed her phone and a set of keys with a plush moon pendant attached to them, which had wandered off on a trajectory of their own.
“Is it a good idea to wave those around? You could take someone’s eye out,” he said.
She pressed the items to her chest. “I don’t thinkyoushould advise me on good ideas.”
“Me? I was just dancing.”
“And I wastryingto perform a scientific experiment.”
“I think you boarded the wrong flight, then.”
She grunted and pushed a floating lock of coiled hair off her face. “Why are you so determined to ruin everything?”
“Why are you so determined to not have fun?” he shot back.
“I was having fun until you bumped into me.”
“Ah, so youwerewaiting on an unsuspecting victim with those keys.”
Simon’s dancing partner made some half-hearted sound; he wasn’t sure what it was, because Phoenix went, “You—agh—” and the gravity started pressing on his limbs, and the instructor announced everyone should find a spot to lie down.
“Next parabola.” He pointed a challenging finger at her and half-floated, half-jumped towards the other side of the cabin.
Seventh Parabola
Callie had found the solution for her situation: treat it as a scientific experiment. She’d had some motion sickness, and she didn’t like the lack of control in zero gravity, but once she got used to it, she dared to push herself all the way to the ceiling and even do a simple somersault. She only had to think about the application of various gravity theories instead of the pilots trying to keep the plane in the air, and everything was fine.
“Hey.” Ava floated to her. “Who was that?”
“Who?”
“The sexy pale ginger guy you spoke with earlier.”
Before she could stop herself, Callie looked at Falcon—surrounded by a group of five, hanging on his every word as he made sweeping motions with his arms—then snapped back to her friend. “Ava! You have a boyfriend.”
“Youdon’t.”
No. No chance. When—if—she had a relationship again, she’d find someone sensible, serious. Someone who liked the same things she did. Someone who wasn’t that intimidatingly handsome. “Don’t even think about it.”
Falcon’s laugh echoed across the cabin.
Ava shrugged. “He seems fun. He winked at you! And you said at least five words to him, which is an improvement.”
