Chapter 2
A t dinner, I sit up straighter in my chair the moment Bo appears. While his parents talk to my parents, Bo’s gray-green eyes scan the table and find me. My stomach flutters as he walks toward me.
“Is this seat taken?” He puts his hand on the back of the empty chair beside me.
“No.” My cheeks grow warm.
“Hey, Bo.” Harmony waves at him from the other side of me.
“Harmony.” Bo acknowledges her without taking his gaze from me. That flutter inside me intensifies as he pulls out the chair and sits beside me. Gesturing to the book in my lap, he asks, “Still reading the Boxcar story?”
“I’m almost done.” I nod. “Just jotting some notes.” I lift the paperback to reveal the journal tucked beneath.
“What kind of notes?” He scoots his chair closer. His brown hair is wet. He must have just showered. I smell his bodywash or cologne. It’s woodsy and citrusy, warm and uplifting like he is. His denim-clad knee brushes mine, making my entire body tingle.
“Quotes I like,” I admit in a confidential tone. “Ideas that come into my head while I’m reading.”
“Will you show me?” He glances at me through his spiky dark lashes.
Normally, I wouldn’t. I rarely show Harmony my musings. She’s my sister, but she doesn’t really get that part of me. Once, I showed a girl at school one of my poems, and she made fun of me. But we’re not at school. I feel comfortable with Bo. What I think and have to say seem to interest him, and I find myself considering his request, something I wouldn’t ordinarily do.
“Please.” His eyes brim with warmth and sincerity. “I’d really like to see.”
“Okay.” I open my journal.
Bo glances down. A swath of his wavy brown hair falls forward, shadowing his gaze but not the crease that appears between his eyes. “Why’d you draw stars there?” He points.
“Because I like this sentence.” I tap it with my finger.
“Can you read it?”
“Sure.” I read the quote but wonder why he didn’t just read it himself. “‘Nature is our backyard.’” I trace over the words as I read. “‘And the stars are our nightlights.’”
“That’s cool.” He glances up, his gaze connecting to mine. His handsome face is only inches away, and there are oceans of depth within those starlight and forest green eyes of his. “I bet those kids in the story feel like the world is wide open for them to explore. They have no rules or limits. They don’t have any grownups to please or worry about. Their curiosity guides them. They’re not alone. They have each other.”
“That’s it exactly.” I nod excitedly. “You’re smart. I think that’s the message the author wanted readers to get.”
“I’m not smart.” Bo slowly grins. “But I do get it. I think I get you a little bit too.”
My heart flip-flops around in my chest. Being on the receiving end of his smile makes me feel like I swallowed the sun. Unlike the children in the story, if Bo were my friend, I wouldn’t need the stars to guide me; I would just need him.
“Hey, everyone,” my dad says and clinks his wineglass with a fork.
“Not a War speech.” Dizzy Lowell, Tempest’s rhythm guitarist and my mother’s brother, groans.
I slink down in my chair, knowing full well how much my dad likes to talk. He’s all fired up tonight about Tempest recording a new album. Apparently, he’s not done with the topic. My knee starts bouncing. His speeches take too long, and I’d rather be talking to Bo.
“We can talk more later.” As if guessing the reason for my impatience, Bo reaches over and covers my hand with his own where it rests on my journal. His skin is warm, and his touch makes me feel like the rays from the sun I swallowed are blazing out of me.
“When?” I whisper eagerly.
“Let’s wait until everyone goes to sleep.” He squeezes my fingers. “We’ll meet downstairs. In the gathering room by the Christmas tree.”
“Okay,” I agree, even though I suspect my dad wouldn’t approve. Normally, I want to please him more than anything, but for once, I don’t care. I want to do something good for me for a change. And it’s strange, but given the way Bo is grinning, making plans with me seems like it might be doing something good for him too.