Written in the Stars(36)

Elle steadied herself with a hand on Darcy’s thigh. Don’t think about it didn’t do shit when those fingers with their chipped blue polish relaxed enough to slide down to where Darcy’s hand was gripping her own knee, knuckles white.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

All Darcy could do was think about it. About how Elle’s hand was soft, the spaces between her fingers warm as she wiggled them between Darcy’s until they were holding hands in the back of the dark car while Brendon sat in the front, unable to even see them.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.

Darcy stared at their hands, her fingers longer, making Elle’s hand look tiny. Elle was a force, a larger-than-life hurricane of a human; her hands were too small, too delicate for someone who’d come crashing her way into Darcy’s life with all the finesse of a wrecking ball.

The car braked a touch too fast and Darcy’s stomach swooped as if she’d rocketed down Space Mountain.

Darcy wasn’t a thrill seeker and she didn’t like roller coasters. The probability of being injured on one had been estimated at one in twenty-four million. Slim, but certainly higher than sitting home and reading a book. Growing up, she’d tolerated them, mostly for Brendon’s sake.

Surprisingly, what she disliked wasn’t the drop, but the moments before, when the rickety boxcar would creep up the metal track, higher and higher, her heart crawling into her throat as she gripped the bar in front of her for dear life. As if clutching a silly metal rod would spare her in the event of an emergency, total disaster. Those anxious moments right before the plunge, when all those worst-case scenarios would flit through her head, but getting off the ride wasn’t an option. Stuck, knowing what would come next, dreading it and being able to do nothing, Darcy hated being out of control, at the mercy of chance.

That’s what this moment, blazing through yellow lights past a blur of people stumbling from bars, and holding on to Elle’s hand felt like. Darcy had gotten on this ride and now she couldn’t climb off. Not yet.

The car stopped at the curb of a dingy, but not-unsafe-looking building, and Darcy’s anxiety continued to mount, her palms starting to sweat. Elle squeezed Darcy’s fingers and it felt like she had a stranglehold on Darcy’s pounding heart. “This is me.”

“Right.” Darcy tried to smile in case Brendon was watching. “Good night.”

A cough came from the front seat. Brendon was watching, one brow quirked.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

The car idled at the curb as Elle finally let go of Darcy’s hand so they could climb out of the back seat. Without Elle’s fingers twined with hers, Darcy didn’t know what to do with her hands and she was suddenly absurdly aware of them, of all her limbs and where they existed in space. Tuck them in her pockets? No, her jeans were too tight, her pockets tiny. She settled on crossing her arms, fingers gripping her biceps as she followed Elle up the steps to the entrance of her building.

Elle reached behind her neck, freeing the clasp of her necklace. From inside the neckline of her dress she withdrew two keys, both hanging from a simple silver chain.

Don’t think about it.

“I was thinking.” Elle tapped the spiky silver teeth of one of those keys against her bottom lip. The metal had to be warm from resting against her skin all night.

“Oh, no,” Darcy joked, trying to regain her footing.

Elle kicked Darcy’s shin lightly, and the corners of her eyes crinkled. “I had fun tonight.”

So had Darcy, only the words, a simple so did I stuck in her throat when the light from the streetlamp hit Elle’s eyes. Her eyes weren’t just blue, but gray, too, silvery striations winding out from a storm cloud center that hugged her pupils.

“We should kiss,” Darcy blurted.

Elle’s eyes doubled in size.

Darcy knew better, knew that kissing Elle was a terrible idea. It couldn’t lead to anything, Darcy wouldn’t let it lead to anything. And yet something inside her, some tiny, illogical part of her rebelled at the idea of never getting a taste of Elle. Even though that’s all it would be. One taste.

The overwhelmingly rational part of her needed to explain, to justify this, apply logic to an altogether illogical desire. “My brother’s probably watching.”

Elle wrinkled her nose. “Is that supposed to make me want to kiss you?”

No, but that made this less dangerous. The odds of getting injured on a roller coaster were slim. They were well-designed, tested. There were seat belts and safety precautions in place. As far as risks went, it was safe. This was a safe risk because if this was all fake, there was no chance of Darcy falling.

She laughed, the sound warbling in her throat. “I mean, he’s probably expecting it.”

Elle dropped her eyes to the ground, to the small bit of space between them. Her tongue darted out, wetting her already shiny bottom lip, licking off some of her gloss. Darcy was dying to taste her. “Right. Sure. You should—” Elle cleared her throat and lifted her head, eyes sparkling under the amber glow of the streetlight. “You should really sell it then.”

Darcy stopped thinking about Brendon and stepped closer to Elle, erasing the distance between them. She lifted a hand, commanding it not to shake as she set it on the dip of Elle’s waist, drawing her in until their knees knocked gently.