Bad Boy Blues(33)

And then, there’s his book, sitting on the nightstand.

Still in my sandals, I round the side of the bed and limp over to it. The cover of the book is all white, with the title written in bright blue.

Last time I flicked through it, but tonight I take the time to read what’s inside. There’s a story behind almost every constellation, and soon I’m flying through the pages.

I don’t remember sitting on the bed but I am. Right on the edge as I read the love story of Perseus and Andromeda. Apparently, the night sky is full of them, love stories. That’s where the term comes from: a love written in the stars.

Again, I don’t remember taking off my sandals and lying down but I am. I’m on my side, facing the big window as I keep on reading. The sheets feel warm like a cocoon, and even if I didn’t already know that this is where Zach sleeps, I’d smell him and figure it out.

Blueberry pie and clean musk.

Last thing I remember before closing my eyes and drowning in his quicksand of a bed is turning the page and thinking that there’s no way I can sleep in his room.

Turns out, I was wrong.

I did sleep. God knows for how long and God knows what woke me up with a jerk. But I’m awake now and sort of dizzy and foggy.

I take in the room; it’s dark. The overhead lights have been switched off. I swallow in fear. And then, my eyes fall on a shadow. A big, black shadow in the shape of the guy I’ve come seeking.

He’s sitting in a chair, in the glass alcove, overlooking the sky and stars and age-old love stories.

The only light in the room is the glow of the lamp, ripping his body in two: dark and light.

I can see his elbow propped up on the arm of the chair and his gorgeous soft lips lightly wrapped around his finger. He’s contemplating as he watches me sleep.

Slowly, awareness seeps into my brain and I prop myself up. Apparently, the book I was reading was tucked under my cheek and my movements cause it to fall.

It does with a thud and we both watch it. Me, with a grimace and him, with a blank look.

I’m about to get off the bed when he speaks, “You know…”

I whip my eyes in his direction.

He’s leaning forward now, his fingers threaded between his spread thighs as he says, “When I was little, I used to have trouble falling asleep. So, Maggie used to tell me stories. About the stars, because I’d lie there and watch them.”

He points to where I was lying with the tip of his chin. “She told me a story once about Orion. According to the legend, he was a hunter and one day, he meets these sisters and falls in love with them. He spends years chasing after them, trying to win them over. But Zeus finds out about it and decides to put a stop to it. So he turns the sisters into doves. And they fly away and leave Orion and his undying love behind. Do you know what happened to them?”

Zach’s voice is soft, softer than I’ve ever heard. A lullaby, and he’s telling me a story.

And I’m here, sitting on his bed, listening to it not only with my ears but with every part of my body. I’m listening to his every word as if his are the last words I’ll ever hear.

It’s like a dream.

I clutch the sheet that I don’t even remember putting on myself. “No.”

“The sisters are now a constellation up in the sky called Pleiades. They are seven stars. Though, you can only see six of them for some reason.”

The Pleiades. This mansion with seven towers.

“The Prince who built this place decades and decades ago must’ve been into stars,” Zach murmurs, reading my thoughts.

And probably, this Prince gets his love for stars from his ancestors.

“And Orion,” I whisper. “What happened to him?”

“He’s a constellation too. And centuries later, every night, he still chases after them across the sky. He’s probably going to chase after them till the end of time.”

There’s a smile on his lips. In the darkness I can’t tell if it’s real or not but it still has an effect on me.

An effect that makes me whisper, “It’s a beautiful story.”

“You think so?”

I nod. “Yes. Loving someone so much that you become immortal like a star. So you could love them forever. Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

It’s something I want. So, so badly.

It’s something that I’m afraid I’ll never have. Because of him. Because of how much I hate him, the guy who told me the most breathtaking tale of love.

The guy who thinks love makes you bleed.

Zach’s smile widens and morphs into a chuckle. He sits back and throws out a laugh. A rusty, harsh laugh. “I told you that story, Blue, because it’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard. I remember laughing the first time I heard it. And the reason I keep going back to it is because it makes me believe in how shitty and miserable love is. How lonely.”

I don’t even know why he thinks that. But I can see that it’s something he believes in with his very soul. With every fiber of his being and with every dark thought in his head.

“Love isn’t misery,” I say finally, because I have to say something. “It’s not shitty. It’s not lonely. It doesn’t make you bleed. And if it does, well then, it’s not love. My parents were in love and they weren’t miserable. They were happy. Love is good. It’s… magic. It’s supposed to make your life easier, better.”