She Dims the Stars(48)

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know. I guess it just has more Young Adult than I pegged you for. Romance. Stuff to make you cry. Books they make movies out of. And, from the looks of it, you have a predilection for book boys with one leg.”

I close my eyes and laugh, conjuring up the best image I can of Elliot’s face before I answer. “Nah. Real life boys with two legs top that any day.”





May bleeds into June, and June fades into July. July’s warmth wavers on the roads outside, causing heat to shimmer off the asphalt. Even though we are some of the very few who have decided to stay around the college town for the summer—who are not directly involved in summer classes—there are plenty of people for us to talk to or run into when we do decide to wander out of our apartment. I don’t have a lot of time to do that as I prepare my presentation for Ten2One. I’ve busted my ass, spending almost every available moment I have on perfecting this game concept in hopes that it will land me the position to present the mock-up and get a chance to earn an internship with them.

If that happens, I could very well be on my way to making this game myself in just a matter of years.

Cline insists that I take some time out to watch the fireworks from our building on the Fourth of July, and I do, but my head is in a different place, thinking about Audrey four hours away, in the same state, wondering what she’s doing at this exact same moment.

She’d laugh at thoughts like this. Me sitting here wondering what kind of fireworks she’s looking at. Or with whom.

These thoughts creep their way in, though, and I imagine her at the lake house with someone. I envision them watching purple and yellow explosions in the sky, and I can see her face clearly, imagining the way the embers fall and reflect in her eyes. When I blink, the person that she’s with is me.

It’s exactly the way I want it.



Cline is sitting at our little bar, eating cereal, when I walk through the door, holding my portfolio in one hand and a wilting black tie in the other. He barely looks up before shoveling another spoonful of sugary rainbow-colored mess into his mouth.

“How’d it go?” He asks, milk dribbling down his chin.

“Killed it.” I throw my portfolio onto the counter and slide onto the stool next to him, exhausted. I’ve never been under so much pressure in my entire life, but standing in front of that room full of guys—people who I want to one day call my colleagues, my equals—I was assertive and at ease. I was knowledgeable and confident like that first time I took a bite of Audrey’s Popsicle.

I swear, if God made people to make video games, then He had that in mind when he was putting me together in my ma’s womb.

“They want me to start the internship halfway through the semester. It’s going to kill me, but I have to make it work.”

“You will.” Cline tips the bowl back, chugs the remainder of the milk and then lets out a heinous burp. “You’re almost a genius. Like, right under genius. Just a few points away. You can make this work. Plus, it’s your dream job. And let’s face it, what else are you going to do?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” My mom had told me to focus on school this year, and if I got the internship, I wouldn’t have to get a job, which was the plan for this semester. I hate to put her in this position, but something like this could legitimately get me a job immediately after graduation.

“We should celebrate. Sep’s coming up this weekend. Let’s go get drinks … get rowdy. School starts soon, man, and you’ve been locked up in your room like some sort of hermit for the last month.” He’s hovering by the refrigerator, his hand resting on the handle. We’re both quiet for about a minute before he speaks again, this time a little quieter than before. “Do you think Audrey’s going to come back to school like her dad said she was?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. She talks to you more than she does to me. I don’t even know if I should text her to tell her about today.”

“You should. She’ll want to know. Maybe you can slip in a question about when she’ll be back. Ask if she needs help moving. That’s smooth.”

“Let’s think about this logically. She already signed up for classes. She has to be coming back. It’s just a matter of where she’ll be staying …” I’m staring at him, and I swear we both have the same look on our faces, because we’re both hoping that she’ll come back, but neither of us know for sure. Nothing with her is guaranteed.

An idea begins to take form in my mind, and I move to my bedroom to change clothes and grab a notepad and join Cline in the living room. Before he can turn the TV on, I snatch the remote and throw it across the room.

“A simple, ‘I’m not in the mood’ would have sufficed,” he says with a look of shock.

I lean back on our less foul-smelling sofa and prop my feet up on our coffee table, sending some bottles rattling as they move backward. “Tell me some stories about Audrey when you guys were younger. Don’t leave anything out.”

As soon as he opens his mouth, I begin to write.



The semester is about to begin, and suddenly the campus is crawling with people again. It’s unsettling how easily these students, new and old, are moving in and going about their business like nothing life changing happened over the summer. And I guess it hadn’t. Not for them, at least.