TAVIAN
07.12.15
“So what did ya think? Was it what you expected?” I ask Lyra as we leave the Arcetri Observatory, heading up a path to the hilltop viewpoint the resident astronomer directed us to. He said we’ll be the only ones up here and we’re welcome to stay as long as we like.
She hasn’t let go of my hand since we left the hotel, where we had just enough time after our longer-than-expected road trip to clean up and eat a quick dinner before heading here for our scheduled visit. After her meltdown earlier in the car, I haven’t let her out of my sight except when she was changing in the bathroom, and even then, I waited right outside the door, not taking any chances.
I promised her I’d be her rock to lean on, and I won’t let her down. This trip is no longer about me. It’s all her. Every thought I have is centered around her. The pull she has on me is unexplainable; no mathematical law or theory or proof exists to validate it. And I shouldn’t get any closer—God knows, for so many reasons I shouldn’t—but I can’t fucking stop.
I don’t want to stop.
“Yeah, it was pretty impressive. All the history here… I almost can’t wrap my head around it!” Her voice is full of enthusiasm and wonder, the same way it’s been since we stepped inside the building nearly three hours ago.
Much like when she has her camera in her hand, Lyra was clearly in her element in the observatory. She fluttered excitedly from exhibit to exhibit, almost like a young child at the zoo, not knowing which animal to look at first. The questions she asked were thought provoking and mostly over my head, but the scientist seemed truly impressed with her knowledge and theories. I soaked in every moment she gave with her guard down, hoping I could find a way to keep it down.
As we trek up the hill, following the light from the flashlight in my hand, her scent—something sweet, citrusy, and sinfully tempting—lingers on the light breeze, and my cock stirs in response. I can’t fucking stop that either.
Now is not the time, Tavian. Be the man she needs you to be.
“No kidding!” I exclaim, my voice too loud in the warm, quiet night air. “And that piano in the library that belonged to Einstein, how cool was that?”
“Of course you’d think the best part of a famous observatory that houses one of the world’s largest telescopes is a mathematician’s piano.” She giggles and shakes her head.
My chest swells with pride every time I hear that beautiful noise coming from her, and as each day passes, I get more and more addicted to it. I need it. Need to know she’s happy when she’s with me. Instead of seeking out adrenaline-pumping thrills, I’m now chasing Lyra’s laugh.
“How dare you talk about the Father of Math like that?” I feign offense, squeezing her hand gently to let her know I’m joking.
My goal is to keep the mood light and her talking for as long as possible. I’m prepared for the nosedive her spirit is about to take, but hopefully I can minimize the drop. And no matter what happens, I won’t let her fall.
“Einstein wasn’t the father of math, Professor West. Pretty sure Archimedes was,” she tsks, grinning up at me. “I hope you don’t teach your students false information.”
Dammit, she’s right. And how does she know that? Fuck, she’s got my head all messed up.
“Touché, Miss Jennings. Perhaps I should hire you as my TA to help keep me straight.” I’m obviously teasing, but if she said yes, I’d do whatever the hell I needed to do to make that happen. Like yesterday.
Slow your roll, dude. You still have to end things with Annie. And figure out what the fuck you’re gonna tell Ma.
The playful conversation fizzles out when we reach a good-sized square deck, about twelve-by-twelve feet, at the crest of the hill—a new addition based on the pristine condition of the wood and built-in benches. Immediately, she tenses and stops walking, her eyes glazing over with dread. With the death grip she has on my hand, I’m afraid she may break a bone or two, spraining ligaments at the very least.
“I got you,” I assure her as I stride forward, guiding her along with me. “We’re gonna get through this together, step by step, however long it takes.”
She says nothing, but follows me up to the viewpoint, her motions stiff and zombie-like. I lead her to the center of the deck then release her hand so I can lower the backpack to the ground—her backpack I insisted on wearing tonight, not letting her bear the weight of what’s in it alone.
Retrieving the hotel blanket I’d stuffed in it before we left, I spread it out then lie down on my back in the middle and pat the spot next to me. “C’mere,” I coax. “Let’s just enjoy the view for a while. We’re not in any rush. If you want to talk, I’m here to listen, but if not, I’m here for the silence, too.”
After a few motionless beats, Lyra shuffles her feet over and lies down beside me, mirroring my posture with her hands folded behind her head as a pillow. I turn off the flashlight to maximize the jaw-dropping view in front of me while channeling all my positive energy in her direction, but her chattering teeth and shivering body have me hauling her into my arms and sharing my body heat.
That’s chivalrous, not pervy… right?
Ignoring the sudden tightness of my boxers, I drape one of my long legs over both her slim ones and kiss the top of her head—something I’ve never done before this week but seems so natural when I’m with her.
“Deep breaths, buttercup. I got you, and you got this,” I murmur into her dark, silky hair. Midnight may surround us, but I’ll be damned if I let her slip into the darkness.
Her trembling gradually fades, and eventually, I feel her relax into me. Neither of us utters a word for thirty minutes, an hour, maybe more. The blanket of stars above us is breathtaking, but with her nestled into my chest, it’s downright magical.
We’re not only the only two people in the world; we’re the only living things in this universe. And this moment belongs to us.
“My parents were the best.” Her soft, unsteady voice ends the silence, and suddenly my complete attention is on her words, soaking in everything she’s willing to offer. “All I ever wanted was to be like them when I was a kid. My mom was a harpist for the Houston Symphony. She loved music so much she lived it, breathed it. I don’t remember a time she wasn’t humming or singing or composing something in her head. I wanted so badly to be a musician like her, but after trying guitar, piano, drum, and voice lessons, it was clear that gene wasn’t passed down to me. My dreams of being a famous rock star were crushed by the age of nine.”
She chuckles faintly and her fingers twist in the Pluto T-shirt I wore just for her. I imagine the bittersweet memory warms her with love while their absence leaves her feeling cold and alone at the same time. I’ve battled through the exact same war of emotions countless times when thinking about Dad, Cody, and Dawson.
Tightening my hold on her slightly, I stay quiet while she processes her thoughts, listening as promised, all of it at her pace. Time isn’t on our side, but this can’t be rushed.
“That left me with wanting to be an astronomer like my dad, and luckily, science was something I was good at. All of school, really. I was kind of a nerd.”
The origin of her name—a constellation named after a lyre—suddenly makes sense. A perfect blend of the things her parents loved.
“I was definitely a Daddy’s girl. I did no wrong in his eyes. When I was little, he’d tell me he loved me to Jupiter and back instead of the moon, because it was farther away and left light-years more room for love.” Swallowing hard, she continues, “Then, the summer before he died, he was part of the team of astronomers who discovered eleven new moons orbiting Jupiter. I was so proud of him. God, I miss them both so much.”
She gets choked up on the last sentence and hides her face into my side, muffling her sobs. Our bodies fit together seamlessly, and I wonder how or why I’ve never noticed that Annie and I don’t. Hell, now that we live together, we usually sleep with her big-ass body pillow between us.
It occurs to me I hadn’t even thought about Annie in the last four days. Haven’t even bothered to check my email. Shouldn’t I miss her?
Lyra cries softly for a few minutes as I rub her back to soothe her. Unlike this afternoon though, she hiccups to a stop quickly, and once she’s calm, she untangles herself from my arms and moves over to the backpack to retrieve her parents’ ashes. With the brown box in hand, she kneels next to me then leans down and places a tender kiss on my cheek. “Thank you, Tavian West from Philadelphia,” she whispers, her lips less than an inch from mine. “I’m ready to start living again.”
And I’m ready to show her.