Before I Do(16)

Audrey inhaled slowly. “He was the first person to teach me about the stars. He knew all the constellations, all the myths and legends. He’d tell me about Perseus rescuing Andromeda from the sea monster, then show me how to find her in the sky. I was always more interested in the science. I wanted to know what the stars were made of, what day of the year they would be clearest to the naked eye.”

“You’re an astronomer,” said Fred, his eyes dancing with interest.

“An amateur one.” She paused. “I plan to study it, though. I need to pass this exam I’ve got next week, then I can apply for a course in September.”

“Wow, brains and beauty,” he said, winking at her, and something in his easy manner made the words feel endearing rather than cheesy.

“The math doesn’t come naturally to me, but I’ve been studying a lot. A lot.”

“Are your family supportive?” he asked.

“My mum is, but—” She let out a sigh. “I’m feeling the pressure, to get it right this time, and it’s not the easiest atmosphere at home.”

“How come?”

“My mum is marrying this guy I can’t stand. It’s creating a bit of tension.”

She wasn’t sure why she’d just shared this with him, except that he’d told her something personal about his family and this was weighing on her mind. There was something in the way Fred looked at her . . . she felt safe, like she could tell him anything.

“I’m sorry.” He paused, and in his face, she saw that he meant it. “It changes your relationship with your parents, when they move on, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, I miss how things used to be with my mother. We used to be really close.”

He reached out and took both her hands in his. “You’re going to nail this exam, then in a few years you’ll discover a new planet, they’ll call it Audrena, and you can send your mum’s fella on the first recce mission. No fuel for a return journey.”

“Ha, maybe,” she said as Fred offered her the last churro. She took it, broke it in half, and handed a piece back to him. He accepted it and they shared a smile. Audrey felt energized by the sugar, the caffeine, and the conversation. How could it be so easy to talk to someone she’d only just met, especially someone she’d fantasized about meeting for months?

“I love that image, of you and your telescope, seeking out other worlds,” he said with a far-off look on his face.

“It’s a good hobby for an insomniac.”

“You’re kidding! Me too, I never sleep.” He gesticulated wildly, as though he couldn’t believe they had this in common. “I’m even writing a book about it—The Insomniac’s Almanac.”

“Ooh, sounds interesting, tell me more,” she said.

“I’ve been working on it for years. It’s full of things to do alone after dark, ways to stop fighting with the night. I’ll add a chapter on stargazing in your honor.”

“That’s exactly what it feels like, doesn’t it? Fighting with the night. I don’t trust people who sleep too well.”

“Neither do I. My older brother sleeps so easily, and sometimes, when we share a room, I wonder what I would swap to be able to sleep like that. Like, would I give up a toe?”

“I’d give up a toe.”

“Would you give up a foot?”

She paused, wondering. “Would I be guaranteed to sleep eight refreshing hours a night for the rest of my life?” He nodded. “If you asked me this question at three in the morning, I’d probably give you both feet.”

“Not if you had my almanac. I’m going to dedicate it to you. ‘For Audrey—so she can keep her feet.’ You’ll find it one day in a dusty bookshop and think of me.”

“Is that your passion, then? Writing?”

“No. Photography is what I love,” Fred said without missing a beat. He reached for his camera bag and pulled out a black Minolta camera with a large lens and a heavy leather strap. “Can I?” he asked, holding it up to take a photo of her.

She picked up her coffee cup and blushed. He snapped a photo and then looked at the screen.

“That came out better than I could have hoped.”

She reached for it so she could see. It was an excellent photo; he’d captured her coy smile, half-hidden behind the cup, her hair softly curling around her cheeks, a flirtatious glint in her eye. She looked great.

“You’re good,” she said, then laughed as she handed it back. “You’ve made me look like someone else.”

“The camera doesn’t lie,” he said, holding her gaze again, and Audrey felt the thrill of being looked at as though she was something precious, someone extraordinary.

“I’ve never owned a camera,” she said, looking away, breaking the intensity.

“No?”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

“Well, that ends today,” he said, standing up. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” She laughed.

“I’m going to teach you how to take a decent photo. Partly because I want to show you what I love about it, and partly because I want an excuse to spend more time with you, Audrey the Astronomer.”

Audrey grinned. He didn’t need an excuse.