Our astronomy lab class had just concluded the first of two night observations, of which we’d gathered with our lab partners and logged our findings on the platform of the observatory. Eight of us had signed up, and Noah had led the observation. We had to complete two for the semester, and combined, along with our log, was worth twenty-five percent of our final grade. Steven and I had both brought our telescopes and were just packing them up. I heard a giggle and noticed Noah speaking to a pair of girls who’d remained behind the other lab partners.
Steven cleared his throat. “During my observation of the human female I’ve noticed Noah Hicks brings that insanely obnoxious and primitive behavior out in most cases,” he said, then quirked his head and looked up at me with a grin. “I’ve concluded that the female species is simply beastly and unpredictable. I’m surprised you’re not on the Noah Hicks bandwagon.”
I gave Steven a disapproving fake frown. “Who are you now, Dr. Sheldon Cooper?” I continued loading up. “Steven, if I did have primitive beastly behavior I sure wouldn’t just let it out for everyone to see.”
“Let what out for whom to see?” Noah said behind me. “Exactly?”
My gaze flipped around to Noah, who watched as I packed up my gear. His lip twitched.
Good Lord, busted. I gave a nervous laugh. “My primitive beastly obnoxious side.” I flashed a glare toward Steven.
“That’s something I’d have to see for myself.” Noah knelt beside me and began breaking down the tripod. “How’s the log coming along?”
My braid slipped over my shoulder as I leaned across and tucked the body of my scope into the bag. “We picked up cloudy nebulus tonight. Saturn.”
“Yeah, and a few cool shots of the Milky Way with Olivia’s camera.” Steven shouldered his scope bag and pulled his car keys from his pocket. “I’ve got an online Stargazer’s meeting to attend in twenty minutes, plus about a pound of chemistry homework. So I’m gonna head out.” He flipped me a thumbs up. “Nice job, lab partner of mine. See ya in class.”
“Bye.” I gave a short laugh. I really liked Steven a lot. Like me, he was a geek to the nth degree.
Noah leaned close, and a slip of a breeze picked up his cologne and it wafted toward me. He smelled good; polished, crisp, well groomed. After tucking my tripod away he turned and sat on the ground, his forearm resting on his knee, his head turned toward the sky. I noticed how sharp and square his profile was; like a statue chiseled from stone. Not in a bulky, muscular way, but in a David sort of way. No wonder all the girls lost balance whenever he passed by. “Did you ever find out who damaged your truck?” he asked without looking at me.
“No.” I zipped my bag and sat down beside it, turning my stare toward the heavens. “It could’ve been any number of random people, I suppose.”
He let out a quick laugh. “I’d be willing to bet another girl did it,” he looked at me. “Just because of the guy you’re dating.” He shrugged. “Girls can be pretty vindictive.”
I knew that better than Noah thought. “Luckily they used shoe polish.” I searched the vast blanket above me, kept my eyes trained there. “It came right off.”
“Yeah,” he continued. “But those words were pretty harsh, Olivia.” I felt his eyes on me, and embarrassment heated my face. I looked at him, and his eyes appeared completely black. “Listen, I know it’s none of my business, but,” he searched for words. “I guess I hate to see people,”—he shrugged—“nice girls, I mean, get in over their head.”
“In over my head?” I didn’t know where he was going with this, but an uncomfortable feeling nicked me; something that usually didn’t accompany Noah.
He exhaled, looked down at the platform, then lifted his gaze. “Brax Jenkins. You two seem …” He laughed again. “Well, you know.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw, then his close-clipped hair. “Dammit. I’m over-stepping my boundaries here. Just be careful, Olivia. If you ever need anything, you have my number.” He flashed an embarrassed kind of smile. “Us nerds have to watch each other’s back, you know.”
“Gracie, you ready?”
I jumped at Brax’s unexpected presence on the platform. I leapt to my feet, grabbing my bag. Guilt washed over me as my eyes met his; anger and pain flashed over his features. The words weren’t mine, but I felt responsible for them just the same. Brax walked over and shouldered my scope bag, and I nervously searched for something to say. “Uh, yes. Actually. Just finished up here.”
While his hand found its way to my lower back, his gaze shifted to Noah’s. A hostile flare shone there, and although his words were for me, he threw that hostility at Noah. “Let’s get out of here.”
Noah rose, cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. “See you in class, Olivia.”
“See ya,” I answered. Brax guided me to the stairwell, tension radiating off of him.
“And hey,” Noah added. We stopped, but Brax’s gaze remained forward. I looked over my shoulder. “We’re expecting the Draconids to be spectacular, with very little moonshine to block the view.” He grinned. “It’ll be … great for your log.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
Silently, Brax led me down the stairs, out the main lobby and, by the time we hit the exit door, I thought he would self-combust. We made it to the parking lot before I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew he’d heard what Noah had said.
“Brax, I’m sorry. I don’t know—”
“What was that, huh, Gracie?” Brax, my scope bag still on his shoulder, began to pace. The anger rolled off him in sheets, and his face was a mixture of emotions. In the lamplight I noticed hurt was one of them. “You’re discussing us with him?”
“No, I—”
“He’s got no right in our f**king business, Gracie.” His eyes were so angry, so inflamed, and it stung to be on the receiving end of such a stare, in more ways than one. “None.” He wiped his face with his hands. “Fuckin TA. He doesn’t know me.” He glared at me. “The only reason I didn’t break his f**king nose is because I didn’t want you to get in any hot water. Period.”
The sting of his anger, seemingly toward me, sifted into defensiveness. “Are you mad at me?”
When he stood close, his body engulfed mine. He grew louder. Angrier. “You were discussing us, Gracie. Me. With that prick. Yeah, I’m pissed.”
Irritation flushed over me. “I wasn’t discussing anything, Brax.” My voice quieted, and I felt hurt. “What he said to me was unasked for, unprovoked. Out of the blue.”
Brax drew closer, his head lowered, eyes focused and accusing. “You didn’t bother to correct him.”
His blame singed me, and I felt an icy dread sludge through my insides. I retrieved my truck keys from my pocket. “You didn’t give me time to. Can I have my scope please?” When he just stood there, I turned and walked to my truck. Brax was right on my heels. Once there, I unlocked and opened the door.
“You’re pissed? Are you serious?” Sarcasm and disbelief hung in his voice. “I’m the one who walked up to find you and dickhead all cuddled up on that platform, gazing at the stars and talking about how you needed to be careful with me.” He barked out a laugh. “Give me a f**king break, Sunshine. Even you can’t be that naïve.”
White hot emotions careened into me then; fury, pain, and the realization that Brax had a serious problem with jealousy. Much like Kelsy. I lifted my scope bag from Brax’s shoulder and slid it across the bench seat in my cab. I climbed in after it.
“Whoa, whoa,” Brax then said. He grabbed my waist with both hands and pulled me back. As I stood there, my heart raced; my breath hurt to move through my lungs. And I hated that for the first time since falling for Brax Jenkins, I wanted to get away from him. “You’re going to leave, just like that?” he asked.
I turned in his hands, my back to my opened truck door, and I looked up into beautiful, frightening, astonished eyes. “For whatever reason, Noah took it upon himself to warn me about you. I had no control over it. That’s what you heard when you walked up, Brax. I was just as stunned as you to hear it.” I took my hands and pushed his off my hips. “But what stuns me even more is how quickly your anger turned on me.” Twisting, I jumped up into the cab of my truck. Tears stung my eyes but I kept them from falling. “I’m not nearly as naïve as you think I am.”
I yanked on my door to close it, but Brax caught it, held it open. “Gracie, wait. Don’t go. I’m sorry.”
Sadness made my gaze heavy. “So am I.” This time I pulled, and Brax let the door close. I started the engine and put the truck in drive.
Brax slapped the fender, making a tinny thump. “I said I’m fuckin sorry!” he yelled. “Gracie!”
Pain made me react, made me want to just escape and, although not the mature response, there it was. Tears pushed past my lids now, and I angrily swiped them away. It was just a stupid fight, I knew that; but it was our first. It didn’t feel good. Not at all. Dammit, I didn’t want him to see me cry.
I pulled out of the parking lot. I didn’t look back.
18. Almost Paradise
Somehow, I knew Brax would follow me; the round headlight in my rear view mirror was all the proof I needed. I knew he had a right to be angry, but for some reason it offended me that he seemed to take that anger out on me. As if I’d had anything to do with Noah’s proclamation of Brax’s bad reputation.
No sooner did I pull into my parking spot, kill the engine and open the door was Brax already off his bike and standing there. He opened the door. “Jesus fuck, Gracie, please.” I sat stone-statue still in my truck, staring out the windshield, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the wheel. His voice held pain; more than what was caused by our fight, or by Noah’s warning, or even by his accidental intrusion on the conversation. I let out a pent-up sigh, watched as a tear fell onto the thigh of my faded jeans.
“Baby, Christ God, I’m such an idiot. Please don’t cry.” Brax’s calloused fingers grasped my jaw, forcing my gaze to his. Embarrassment swamped over me and I blinked, trying to convince my treacherous eyeballs to stop leaking. But Brax’s roughened knuckle brushed away the trail of dampness. He crouched down then, the material pulling taut over his muscled thighs, the tee shirt snugged over his broad shoulders, and he looked up from his lowered position. His hands now rested on my knee. He squeezed it, slightly, exhaled and stared at the ground between his feet, then back up to me. “You gotta believe me when I say I’m sorry, Gracie. I lost it back there.” He glanced away, thinking. “I thought he’d convinced you I was no good.” His eyes seared into mine, and I saw doubt there. A lot of it; more than what he probably meant for me to see. “I thought you believed him.”
Brax’s confessions from that night on the ball diamond came rushing back, and I was struck by the force of the fears he still had buried deep inside. Abandonment seemed an empty description. In many ways he was the strongest person I knew; his turmoil growing up had made him a survivor, valiant. Yet a part of him, no matter how small it might seem, lingered inside of him like a small, frightened kid—scared of being left alone in a dumpster to just … stop existing. It saddened me; it didn’t make me pity him, but just the opposite. I respected him for showing me this vulnerable side of Braxton Jenkins, for letting me in, and I was positive not another soul in Texas had witnessed it. I wondered if it meant something. If he might care for me as much as I secretly cared for him. I reached for his hands then, where they still gripped my knee, and threaded my fingers through his strong ones. My voice felt unsteady, shaky. “I draw my own conclusions, Brax. About everyone, and everything. That doesn’t just include you. It especially includes you.” I chose my next words carefully. “I don’t typically let people in”—I pressed one of my hands to my heart—“here. So trust me, if the rumors I heard about you from the get-go didn’t scare me away, nothing will.” His fingers tightened around mine, and I saw instant relief flood the harsh planes and unique features that the shadows tried so hard to hide. “Noah was wrong for what he said. Even he admitted having overstepped his boundaries, and he was right about that. And I have no idea what caused him to feel the need to warn me about you.” I peered closely at him. “I don’t need any more warnings. And I don’t like being yelled at, Brax, or accused falsely. I understand you felt like you’d walked up on something between Noah and I, but you didn’t. That’s not me, not the kind of person I am.” I smiled then, and I saw regret soften his unusual eyes. “I’m different. Remember?”
Brax stood, his body filling the space left by my opened door. With one arm, he braced his weight against the frame and leaned in. His hand lowered, pushed my braid over my shoulder, then grasped my jaw and drew his mouth over mine. “I know you are,” he whispered, and his lips brushed feathery over mine. Then, he nudged my mouth open as he deepened the kiss, and the gentle swipe of his tongue, so possessive and erotic, made my lips tingle. Without thinking, I eased across the bench seat, Brax slid behind the wheel, pulled the door closed and laid me back, our tongues and mouths fusing, tasting. My heart raced out of control. God, that kiss could have gone on and on.
Or maybe even further. And just when I thought it would, Brax stopped, his big palms resting against the bare skin of my ribs, our breathing in sync and fast and deliciously fogging up the windows. He instead helped me from the cab of my truck. Walked with one arm around my shoulders as he carried my scope to the dorm entrance. Kissed me again and swiped my card. Gave me a little push inside after we kissed some more. Watched me until the shadows swallowed me up in the darkened common room. Even inside the stairwell, the rumble of his muffler sounded, and I listened to it as it carried him further away. It was a double-edged sword, that distinct sound; one of comfort, of familiarity. And then, one of departure, an echo of Brax departing. Leaving. Fading away. That sound and thought thumped heavier in the pit of my stomach than it should have, and I didn’t understand why.
Steven cleared his throat. “During my observation of the human female I’ve noticed Noah Hicks brings that insanely obnoxious and primitive behavior out in most cases,” he said, then quirked his head and looked up at me with a grin. “I’ve concluded that the female species is simply beastly and unpredictable. I’m surprised you’re not on the Noah Hicks bandwagon.”
I gave Steven a disapproving fake frown. “Who are you now, Dr. Sheldon Cooper?” I continued loading up. “Steven, if I did have primitive beastly behavior I sure wouldn’t just let it out for everyone to see.”
“Let what out for whom to see?” Noah said behind me. “Exactly?”
My gaze flipped around to Noah, who watched as I packed up my gear. His lip twitched.
Good Lord, busted. I gave a nervous laugh. “My primitive beastly obnoxious side.” I flashed a glare toward Steven.
“That’s something I’d have to see for myself.” Noah knelt beside me and began breaking down the tripod. “How’s the log coming along?”
My braid slipped over my shoulder as I leaned across and tucked the body of my scope into the bag. “We picked up cloudy nebulus tonight. Saturn.”
“Yeah, and a few cool shots of the Milky Way with Olivia’s camera.” Steven shouldered his scope bag and pulled his car keys from his pocket. “I’ve got an online Stargazer’s meeting to attend in twenty minutes, plus about a pound of chemistry homework. So I’m gonna head out.” He flipped me a thumbs up. “Nice job, lab partner of mine. See ya in class.”
“Bye.” I gave a short laugh. I really liked Steven a lot. Like me, he was a geek to the nth degree.
Noah leaned close, and a slip of a breeze picked up his cologne and it wafted toward me. He smelled good; polished, crisp, well groomed. After tucking my tripod away he turned and sat on the ground, his forearm resting on his knee, his head turned toward the sky. I noticed how sharp and square his profile was; like a statue chiseled from stone. Not in a bulky, muscular way, but in a David sort of way. No wonder all the girls lost balance whenever he passed by. “Did you ever find out who damaged your truck?” he asked without looking at me.
“No.” I zipped my bag and sat down beside it, turning my stare toward the heavens. “It could’ve been any number of random people, I suppose.”
He let out a quick laugh. “I’d be willing to bet another girl did it,” he looked at me. “Just because of the guy you’re dating.” He shrugged. “Girls can be pretty vindictive.”
I knew that better than Noah thought. “Luckily they used shoe polish.” I searched the vast blanket above me, kept my eyes trained there. “It came right off.”
“Yeah,” he continued. “But those words were pretty harsh, Olivia.” I felt his eyes on me, and embarrassment heated my face. I looked at him, and his eyes appeared completely black. “Listen, I know it’s none of my business, but,” he searched for words. “I guess I hate to see people,”—he shrugged—“nice girls, I mean, get in over their head.”
“In over my head?” I didn’t know where he was going with this, but an uncomfortable feeling nicked me; something that usually didn’t accompany Noah.
He exhaled, looked down at the platform, then lifted his gaze. “Brax Jenkins. You two seem …” He laughed again. “Well, you know.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw, then his close-clipped hair. “Dammit. I’m over-stepping my boundaries here. Just be careful, Olivia. If you ever need anything, you have my number.” He flashed an embarrassed kind of smile. “Us nerds have to watch each other’s back, you know.”
“Gracie, you ready?”
I jumped at Brax’s unexpected presence on the platform. I leapt to my feet, grabbing my bag. Guilt washed over me as my eyes met his; anger and pain flashed over his features. The words weren’t mine, but I felt responsible for them just the same. Brax walked over and shouldered my scope bag, and I nervously searched for something to say. “Uh, yes. Actually. Just finished up here.”
While his hand found its way to my lower back, his gaze shifted to Noah’s. A hostile flare shone there, and although his words were for me, he threw that hostility at Noah. “Let’s get out of here.”
Noah rose, cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. “See you in class, Olivia.”
“See ya,” I answered. Brax guided me to the stairwell, tension radiating off of him.
“And hey,” Noah added. We stopped, but Brax’s gaze remained forward. I looked over my shoulder. “We’re expecting the Draconids to be spectacular, with very little moonshine to block the view.” He grinned. “It’ll be … great for your log.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
Silently, Brax led me down the stairs, out the main lobby and, by the time we hit the exit door, I thought he would self-combust. We made it to the parking lot before I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew he’d heard what Noah had said.
“Brax, I’m sorry. I don’t know—”
“What was that, huh, Gracie?” Brax, my scope bag still on his shoulder, began to pace. The anger rolled off him in sheets, and his face was a mixture of emotions. In the lamplight I noticed hurt was one of them. “You’re discussing us with him?”
“No, I—”
“He’s got no right in our f**king business, Gracie.” His eyes were so angry, so inflamed, and it stung to be on the receiving end of such a stare, in more ways than one. “None.” He wiped his face with his hands. “Fuckin TA. He doesn’t know me.” He glared at me. “The only reason I didn’t break his f**king nose is because I didn’t want you to get in any hot water. Period.”
The sting of his anger, seemingly toward me, sifted into defensiveness. “Are you mad at me?”
When he stood close, his body engulfed mine. He grew louder. Angrier. “You were discussing us, Gracie. Me. With that prick. Yeah, I’m pissed.”
Irritation flushed over me. “I wasn’t discussing anything, Brax.” My voice quieted, and I felt hurt. “What he said to me was unasked for, unprovoked. Out of the blue.”
Brax drew closer, his head lowered, eyes focused and accusing. “You didn’t bother to correct him.”
His blame singed me, and I felt an icy dread sludge through my insides. I retrieved my truck keys from my pocket. “You didn’t give me time to. Can I have my scope please?” When he just stood there, I turned and walked to my truck. Brax was right on my heels. Once there, I unlocked and opened the door.
“You’re pissed? Are you serious?” Sarcasm and disbelief hung in his voice. “I’m the one who walked up to find you and dickhead all cuddled up on that platform, gazing at the stars and talking about how you needed to be careful with me.” He barked out a laugh. “Give me a f**king break, Sunshine. Even you can’t be that naïve.”
White hot emotions careened into me then; fury, pain, and the realization that Brax had a serious problem with jealousy. Much like Kelsy. I lifted my scope bag from Brax’s shoulder and slid it across the bench seat in my cab. I climbed in after it.
“Whoa, whoa,” Brax then said. He grabbed my waist with both hands and pulled me back. As I stood there, my heart raced; my breath hurt to move through my lungs. And I hated that for the first time since falling for Brax Jenkins, I wanted to get away from him. “You’re going to leave, just like that?” he asked.
I turned in his hands, my back to my opened truck door, and I looked up into beautiful, frightening, astonished eyes. “For whatever reason, Noah took it upon himself to warn me about you. I had no control over it. That’s what you heard when you walked up, Brax. I was just as stunned as you to hear it.” I took my hands and pushed his off my hips. “But what stuns me even more is how quickly your anger turned on me.” Twisting, I jumped up into the cab of my truck. Tears stung my eyes but I kept them from falling. “I’m not nearly as naïve as you think I am.”
I yanked on my door to close it, but Brax caught it, held it open. “Gracie, wait. Don’t go. I’m sorry.”
Sadness made my gaze heavy. “So am I.” This time I pulled, and Brax let the door close. I started the engine and put the truck in drive.
Brax slapped the fender, making a tinny thump. “I said I’m fuckin sorry!” he yelled. “Gracie!”
Pain made me react, made me want to just escape and, although not the mature response, there it was. Tears pushed past my lids now, and I angrily swiped them away. It was just a stupid fight, I knew that; but it was our first. It didn’t feel good. Not at all. Dammit, I didn’t want him to see me cry.
I pulled out of the parking lot. I didn’t look back.
18. Almost Paradise
Somehow, I knew Brax would follow me; the round headlight in my rear view mirror was all the proof I needed. I knew he had a right to be angry, but for some reason it offended me that he seemed to take that anger out on me. As if I’d had anything to do with Noah’s proclamation of Brax’s bad reputation.
No sooner did I pull into my parking spot, kill the engine and open the door was Brax already off his bike and standing there. He opened the door. “Jesus fuck, Gracie, please.” I sat stone-statue still in my truck, staring out the windshield, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the wheel. His voice held pain; more than what was caused by our fight, or by Noah’s warning, or even by his accidental intrusion on the conversation. I let out a pent-up sigh, watched as a tear fell onto the thigh of my faded jeans.
“Baby, Christ God, I’m such an idiot. Please don’t cry.” Brax’s calloused fingers grasped my jaw, forcing my gaze to his. Embarrassment swamped over me and I blinked, trying to convince my treacherous eyeballs to stop leaking. But Brax’s roughened knuckle brushed away the trail of dampness. He crouched down then, the material pulling taut over his muscled thighs, the tee shirt snugged over his broad shoulders, and he looked up from his lowered position. His hands now rested on my knee. He squeezed it, slightly, exhaled and stared at the ground between his feet, then back up to me. “You gotta believe me when I say I’m sorry, Gracie. I lost it back there.” He glanced away, thinking. “I thought he’d convinced you I was no good.” His eyes seared into mine, and I saw doubt there. A lot of it; more than what he probably meant for me to see. “I thought you believed him.”
Brax’s confessions from that night on the ball diamond came rushing back, and I was struck by the force of the fears he still had buried deep inside. Abandonment seemed an empty description. In many ways he was the strongest person I knew; his turmoil growing up had made him a survivor, valiant. Yet a part of him, no matter how small it might seem, lingered inside of him like a small, frightened kid—scared of being left alone in a dumpster to just … stop existing. It saddened me; it didn’t make me pity him, but just the opposite. I respected him for showing me this vulnerable side of Braxton Jenkins, for letting me in, and I was positive not another soul in Texas had witnessed it. I wondered if it meant something. If he might care for me as much as I secretly cared for him. I reached for his hands then, where they still gripped my knee, and threaded my fingers through his strong ones. My voice felt unsteady, shaky. “I draw my own conclusions, Brax. About everyone, and everything. That doesn’t just include you. It especially includes you.” I chose my next words carefully. “I don’t typically let people in”—I pressed one of my hands to my heart—“here. So trust me, if the rumors I heard about you from the get-go didn’t scare me away, nothing will.” His fingers tightened around mine, and I saw instant relief flood the harsh planes and unique features that the shadows tried so hard to hide. “Noah was wrong for what he said. Even he admitted having overstepped his boundaries, and he was right about that. And I have no idea what caused him to feel the need to warn me about you.” I peered closely at him. “I don’t need any more warnings. And I don’t like being yelled at, Brax, or accused falsely. I understand you felt like you’d walked up on something between Noah and I, but you didn’t. That’s not me, not the kind of person I am.” I smiled then, and I saw regret soften his unusual eyes. “I’m different. Remember?”
Brax stood, his body filling the space left by my opened door. With one arm, he braced his weight against the frame and leaned in. His hand lowered, pushed my braid over my shoulder, then grasped my jaw and drew his mouth over mine. “I know you are,” he whispered, and his lips brushed feathery over mine. Then, he nudged my mouth open as he deepened the kiss, and the gentle swipe of his tongue, so possessive and erotic, made my lips tingle. Without thinking, I eased across the bench seat, Brax slid behind the wheel, pulled the door closed and laid me back, our tongues and mouths fusing, tasting. My heart raced out of control. God, that kiss could have gone on and on.
Or maybe even further. And just when I thought it would, Brax stopped, his big palms resting against the bare skin of my ribs, our breathing in sync and fast and deliciously fogging up the windows. He instead helped me from the cab of my truck. Walked with one arm around my shoulders as he carried my scope to the dorm entrance. Kissed me again and swiped my card. Gave me a little push inside after we kissed some more. Watched me until the shadows swallowed me up in the darkened common room. Even inside the stairwell, the rumble of his muffler sounded, and I listened to it as it carried him further away. It was a double-edged sword, that distinct sound; one of comfort, of familiarity. And then, one of departure, an echo of Brax departing. Leaving. Fading away. That sound and thought thumped heavier in the pit of my stomach than it should have, and I didn’t understand why.
