Tracing the Stars Read online

  “Life is so short, Emilia. In the long run, these rules supposedly keeping you apart? They don’t matter.”

  Her words hit me directly in the gut. I nod. “I know. I know that.”

  She pulls away and takes a long sip of her watery drink. “I’m not saying you need to profess your love for him right this very instant. But I do think you owe yourselves a chance to figure it all out. Especially since your baby daddy is a complete ass.”

  I swallow and nod. “Okay. You have my word.” I look away, unsure of what to say next. “Do you love Damien?”

  When I turn to face her, her brow is furrowed in concentration. “I don’t know. He’s here all year round, and I think I’m scared to get too attached. I know it will end the minute we leave.”

  Her reality sinks in. I reach over and grab a few kernels of the popcorn we made a couple of hours ago, shoveling them into my mouth. “We’re both fucked. If you think about it, even if Leo and I were to work things out, he’s not going to leave Chicago. I still have another four months until I graduate—not to mention a baby to birth. I’m tethered to Berkeley until next year…” I grab more popcorn. “I can’t leave my mom and sister. Leo can’t leave Chicago.”

  “And I can’t stay here because I’m leaving for Boston in a month. I can’t give my career up for a man,” she finishes, holding her glass out to mine. “But… we have seventeen days. Let’s make them the best seventeen days we possibly can.”

  I smile and we clink our glasses together. “I think I can do that,” I mumble.

  “You can, and you will,” she replies, giving me a sassy grin.

  T W E N T Y

  Leo

  THE 300 CLUB is the world’s most exclusive club, and it’s probably up there with one of the coolest things I’ve ever participated in. I don’t consider myself a cool person—not in the slightest. I spend my free time—when I have any, that is—playing video games, reading sci-fi novels, and watching nerdy T.V. shows. In high-school, I was voted most likely to win a Nobel Prize.

  I wasn’t exactly in the cool kid’s club, if you know what I’m saying.

  The 300 Club gets me closer to attaining coolness, though. It entails sitting in a 200-degree sauna for ten minutes, and then running outside and around the Ceremonial South Pole. It only works if the temperature dips to -100 degrees—the 300 Club refers to the 300 degree change in temperature. When the temperature drops, you have to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. And I plan on doing it again, making me only one of three people to do it two years in a row.

  Joining the club last year was likely my greatest achievement.

  The moment to do it again comes at the end of winter while I’m eating dinner with Gretchen and Damien, who are once again glued together and sickeningly adorable. It’s been storming all week—a last push of frigid temperatures before the summer begins. Just as I’m about to head back to my room, Nathan, one of the other 300 Club members from last year, runs up to me.

  “Are you ready?” he asks, his grin devilish.

  “For what?”

  “Dude. It’s -101 out.”

  The meaning of his words hit me, and I sprint to my room. The outside temperature is fickle, and I know we probably only have a few minutes of guaranteed -100+ weather, so I throw on a pair of swim trunks and head out. I pass Emilia on my way, and for once I don’t care.

  “Going to the beach?” she asks, eyeing my outfit.

  “300 Club,” is all I say.

  “300 what?”

  “Follow me,” I urge, and I run past the cafeteria to the gym, where five other men and one woman wait in their bathing suits.

  I catch the tail end of Nathan’s directions. We’ve acquired an audience. People are gathered around, and I notice Emilia and Gretchen watching me curiously.

  “…and run like hell around the pole. Whoever makes it will join the 300 Club.”

  “Will it hurt?” one of the guys asks, and I can’t help but smile.

  “Like hell,” Nathan answers, and we all laugh. “Why do you think it’s the most exclusive club in the world?”

  There’s a murmur of excitement and Nathan checks the sauna temperature. He gives us all the thumbs up, and before I strip down, I look over at Emilia. She’s watching me with raised eyebrows, and just then, I pull my trunks down. Several people gasp, a few people cheer, and much to my satisfaction, Emilia’s chest flushes. I know her well enough to know what that means. I wink at her and then I enter the sauna, feeling proud.

  It’s unbearably hot—200 degrees isn’t for pussies, and I immediately begin to sweat. Nathan checks his watch.

  “Eight more minutes,” he says, and I see beads of sweat pouring down his face.

  I lick my lips and taste salt, and a small cut on my ankle begins to sting.

  “Seven minutes,” he says, and I see the woman look at the guy she’s with. She’s opted to keep her swimsuit on, for obvious reasons. They’re both really red, and I see her shake her head in shame.

  “I’m out,” she says, and she barges through the door. We all bask in the cool air wafting through, and then her companion follows her. Now it’s just Nathan, me, and four other guys.

  “Six minutes,” Nathan says, and I start to bounce my legs up and down to distract myself. It’s like sitting inside of an oven while it’s on, just barely being able to withstand it. I’m sure it can’t be good for you, but hey, you only live once. Besides, when will I get the chance to prove I can do it while Emilia watches?

  “Five minutes,” Nathan adds, and one of the other guys pushes through the door quickly. I see him vomit on the floor before the door closes. I let the cool air rush over me, and it helps momentarily. It was eight people, and now it’s five. I don’t remember it being this hot last year. Then again, I didn’t have anyone to impress last year. As I recall, Margaret was with Scott that night. Scott—her assistant. I resist the urge to vomit thinking about it. I even entertain the idea of giving up—it’s miserable in here. But I really, really want to see Emilia’s face when I do this.

  “Four minutes,” Nathan murmurs.

  I start to breathe loudly, trying to visualize the cold I’m about to experience outside. I’m shaking now, and I hope I drank enough water today. Guess it doesn’t make a difference now.

  “Three,” Nathan says, and I realize he’s shaking too.

  One of the other guys leaves, and now it’s four people. Fuck.

  I get up and pace, totally nonchalant about my dick hanging out for all to see. The only thing I care about is getting the fuck out of here.

  “Two,” Nathan says quietly, and I sit down on one of the benches and put my face in my hands.

  That only makes everything hotter, so I stand again. The other two guys are laying back, looking relaxed, but I’m not relaxed in the least.

  “One,” Nathan says, and he stands. “Come on guys. We can do this.”

  He counts down the seconds, and I want to scream at him to go faster. He gets down to ten, and walks to the door. I know someone has opened door to the transition room, where we’ll run immediately after this.

  “Three, two, one…”

  We burst out, and I gasp for air as all four of us scramble towards the transition room. I throw the door open and the cool air feels incredibly good on my skin, though I know my sweat is turning to ice. The sky has returned to the reddish-pink hue, like it was upon our arrival almost six months ago. In a few weeks, it’ll stay light out all day and night. The Ceremonial South Pole is only about twenty feet away, but after the first five feet, I start to feel cold. How is that possible? My feet are numb, so I run faster. It doesn’t matter who finishes first, so I’m not racing anyone—I just want to get the fuck back inside.

  I round the pole, my breath clouding out in front of me like nothing I’ve ever seen. On my way back, I start to regret my decision. Someone’s holding the door to the transitional room open, and I run through first. When I burst into the station, everyone cheers, and someone quickly throws
my swim trunks at me. I cover myself as best as I can with numb hands.

  When I look up, Emilia and Gretchen are laughing, and Emilia’s face is both concerned and amused. And proud.

  I’m sure my sweat is frozen to my face, and I’m sure I look like hell, but I walk over to Emilia, bare ass and all. She looks surprised, and with a cocky grin, I lean down and whisper into her ear.

  “Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe it’s the way your fucking neck got all flushed when you saw me, but I need you tonight, Emilia. Don’t make plans,” I growl, standing straight and watching with glee as the redness blooms on her cheeks.

  I guess that’s what happens when you have three-hundred degrees worth of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

  You stop resisting.

  T W E N T Y - O N E

  Emilia

  LEO BURSTS THROUGH my door without knocking, startling me and causing the tea I’m drinking to spill down the front of my shirt.

  “Shit, you scared me,” I say, standing quickly.

  “Sorry,” he replies, closing the door gently. His eyes are dark; feral. He’s got one thing and one thing only on his mind, and I’m not about to stop him. At this point in my pregnancy, I might as well be a walking, talking clitoris. The hormones are out of control. On top of that, I suddenly can’t remember why we were staying away in the first place. Watching him—all of him—saunter over to me, sweaty and panting and wild… I would’ve let him have me right then and there.

  We did good—we only have a week left, and we pushed through the last three weeks in almost physical pain. It hurt to be around him—to know that I couldn’t have him yet.

  My resolve is gone entirely. I’ve gone five months and three weeks, and I honestly can’t take it anymore. I’ve never been one for good enough, but right now, five months and three weeks is good enough in terms of following the rules. Plus, I’ve never felt this frisky in my life. I need this.

  “Let me just change my shirt,” I say, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat. I turn and walk into my bedroom. My breathing halts when I hear him follow me, the smell of him is intoxicating. When I turn around, he’s hanging off of the door frame.

  “Can I come in?” His voice is barely a whisper, and it’s tinted with desperation.

  You and me both, Leo.

  Without replying, I grab the edge of my t-shirt and pull it over my head. I opted for comfort today, so all I’m wearing is a sports bra, but Leo doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes wander down to my belly, and a huge grin breaks out on his face. It doesn’t feel weird for him to be seeing it. He’s been present at all of my monthly appointments, wherein I have to unzip my pants and lift my shirt. He even sent Jake a picture of the last ultrasound, with no reply. I know he’s trying to help me—us—but I’m fine having no communication with Jake. Besides, Leo has more than made up for it anyways.

  “Take it off.”

  My pulse quickens. I cross my arms and grab the edge of my bra, pulling it over my head in one fell swoop. If there’s one thing I love about being pregnant, it’s that my boobs are massive. Leo seems to enjoy them as well, because his eyes widen wondrously.

  “And your pants.”

  I hesitate, just for a second. Leo sees it, so he pushes off of the frame and comes to stand a few feet away. Without saying anything, he removes his shirt.

  Holy mother of god.

  I unbutton my jeans—somehow they still barely fit—and step out of them, cringing when I realize I’m wearing my four-leaf clover-patterned underwear.

  Leo’s eyebrows shoot up as he steps out of his pants, too.

  “Were you hoping to get lucky today, Emilia?”

  I laugh. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  “Good. Because you’re not getting lucky tonight.” I try not to stare at his erection, so prominent in his tight, dark green boxer briefs.

  I open my mouth, shocked, and cover myself with my arms. “Why am I practically naked, then?”

  He chuckles—a low, rumbling sound that reverberates along my spine. “I’m not going to touch you tonight, Emilia.” I ignore the sinking feeling in my gut. “You are.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” he growls. The sight of him before me—almost naked, so exposed, so unwavering in his pursuit of me as his eyes narrow as they meet mine—I feel my resolve crack. Gretchen’s traitorous words enter my mind. Life is so short, Emilia. In the long run, these rules supposedly keeping you apart? They don’t matter.

  “Okay,” I acquiesce. I pull my underwear down before he has a chance to register my words. This is both the strangest and hottest thing I’ve ever done.

  “Get on the bed,” he orders. He doesn’t touch himself—I don’t necessarily expect him to—but I stop just before I fall back on the bed. I reach out for him, but he pulls away. “We’re not touching each other,” he says quietly. “I’m sure as hell not going to break the rules one week out, Emilia. Otherwise, I’ll regret not having you all winter. So we’re going to do this my way tonight, okay?”

  I try not to smile. “I think we already broke the rules,” I mutter, climbing on the bed and exposing myself to him. He groans and looks away. Sighing heavily and cursing under his breath, he rubs his face with his hand and looks at me with a wounded expression.

  “If we had to testify under oath, I’d be able to tell the truth—that I never touched you. If we were subjected to a lie detector test,” he adds, and seeing my horrified expression, laughs lightly, “just a hypothetical scenario, drama queen—if we had to confess under oath, this would hold up in court.”

  “You researched loopholes?” I ask, spreading my legs wider. The fact that he took the time to make sure our careers could be saved… the fact that he’s suggesting we’re not actually breaking the rules… I don’t think I’ve ever been hotter.

  The guy is obviously in love with you. I swish Gretchen’s words around in my mind.

  L-O-V-E.

  “Oh, I researched loopholes the night of our first rendezvous. I think I was enamored from the moment the elevators closed on your gorgeous face.”

  “But—”

  “Touch yourself, Emilia,” he commands gently, taking one step toward me. In one fell swoop, he drops his boxers and begins to stroke himself.

  This. Is. Not. Happening.

  Taking an unsteady breath, I reach down between my legs. I know how to do this—and having him so close will only make things easier—but I’ve never done it in front of anyone.

  “I don’t…” I start, feeling suddenly bashful. I remove my hand and sigh.

  “Pretend I’m not here,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Close your eyes if you have to. Show me what you’d do if you were alone.”

  I open and close my mouth. “You’ve done this before?”

  He shakes his head and groans. “Never.” He begins to pump faster, the motion so fluid, so arousing…

  I nod and reach down again, starting in a slow, circular motion. I open my legs fully, baring myself completely and he takes another step forward. Another moan shudders out of his mouth. The fire builds immediately as I watch him watch me. He matches my pace, and it’s the single most sensual moment of my life.

  “Describe what you feel,” he begs, his voice uneven. His breathing is ragged, and I lick my lips as I watch him pleasure himself.

  “It feels good,” I say, unsure. I’ve never been good at dirty talk.

  He gives me a wicked smile. “What are you thinking about, Emilia?”

  “You,” I utter, letting a small moan slip out as my tempo quickens. “I want you to be the one doing this to me,” I confess, closing my eyes and throwing my head back. My body feels like it’s on fire, and heat begins to coil between my legs. “I’m close,” I say, and I begin whimpering uncontrollably.

  “Fuck,” Leo hisses. “Me too. Look at me,” he demands, and my eyes snap open. “Watch what you do to me, love,” he says through clenched teeth. His eyes are hazy and dark… The sight of him is so satisfying.
I’m doing that to him—he’s watching me with such reverence…

  The orgasm unleashes itself, and I cry out as my body trembles. Leo curses as he watches me, my name on his lips as we lock eyes. He loses himself all over his hands, his body shaking. The entire time, he doesn’t take his eyes off of mine. He only watches me with bewilderment after he’s done.

  I sigh heavily and close my eyes. When I open them, he’s cleaning himself up with a satisfied smirk. Once he finishes, he climbs into bed with me, but he keeps his word and doesn’t touch me. Neither of us says anything as our breathing goes back to normal. I turn to face him, and he does the same. Our faces are inches apart.

  “This was the best night of my life,” he says, grinning widely.

  I laugh. “Even better than the night you showed me the aurora?”

  He growls. “Hell yes. Obviously.”

  I pull my smile to one side. “Such a man answer,” I tease.

  His smile slowly retreats as his eyes scan my face, neck, and eyes. They probe deeper than they ever have—deep down into the depths of my very being—and I study the yellow flecks in his irises. Bunching his brows together, he reaches up and draws his thumb across my cheek. I flick my eyes across his face, memorizing the way his stubble grows on his chin, the adorable freckle under his left eye, his perfect, aquiline nose and broad jaw…

  “Why are you frowning, Emilia?” he asks tenderly. His hand drops from my face and moves down to my hand. I swallow as his fingers lace with mine. The heat from his body feels so good, and though we’re not touching, I crave the feel of his fingers on me.

  I scoot closer and put my head on his chest. “I’m not frowning,” I lie, closing my eyes and biting my lower lip.

  “Stop doing that,” he begs, removing my lip from my teeth and nipping my mouth with his. “It drives me insane. You have no idea.”

  I smile maniacally.

  And then it hits me.

  I love Leo. I am in love with him.

  I sit up suddenly. “I should probably work on my thesis,” I say quietly, pulling the sheet around my body and standing.