Page 42 of Playing with My Heart

For someone who had never dated or been in a relationship before, he certainly seemed to know a lot about romance. I was just happy I was the person he’d decided to romance. I joined him on the blanket, the earth beneath us solid and welcoming. As we lay back, our shoulders touching, the first stars twinkled into existence above us.

“Out here, away from the city lights, it’s like a whole other world,” I breathed out, lost in the vastness above.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Travis said, his voice a quiet rumble. “Makes you feel infinite and insignificant all at once.”

“Exactly,” I whispered back, turning to see his profile against the darkening sky—the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips.

We lay there in silence, the kind that spoke volumes, the kind that wove itself around us, drawing us closer without a single word. And as the sky deepened to a rich velvet blue, scattered with a million points of light, I felt the magnitude of the moment settle over me.

Lying next to him, under the sprawling sky, I realized the stars weren’t the only things taking my breath away. I reached for his hand, and our fingers wove together effortlessly as if they’d been searching for one another in the darkness.

“Orion,” I pointed upwards, “always looking for a fight.”

“Typical macho man.” Travis chuckled, his breath warm against my cheek. “And there—Cassiopeia, the queen on her throne.” His arm stretched out above us, tracing the W shape in the sky.

We traded stories then, our words floating up to mingle with the stars. I told him about how as a kid, my siblings and me had lain in fields just like this one, making wishes on shooting stars, dreaming of a future that felt both impossibly far away and as close as our next breath.

“Did any of those wishes come true?” he asked, his tone soft, inviting me to share more than just anecdotes.

“Some,” I admitted. “But sometimes what you think you want isn’t what you need.”

“Ah, the wisdom of hindsight,” he mused.

“Exactly.” I turned to look at him, his features barely visible now except for the way they seemed to catch the moonlight. “What about you? Any stargazing memories?”

“Plenty,” Travis said. His thumb stroked the back of my hand as he spoke. “Aunt Lisa used to take me out driving on some back roads outside the city when she needed to escape. She joked that the stars were her therapy until she could afford real therapy.We’d park right there on the side of the road and stretch out on the hood of the car and just stare up at the stars.” His voice was a gentle rumble. “She’d point out constellations, but we’d make up our own stories about them.”

“Like what?” I prodded, genuinely curious about the man beside me who felt both like an old friend and a new mystery.

“See that cluster of stars?” He gestured toward a random grouping. “That was her ‘Dancing Teapot.’ She said it poured out strength and resilience into anyone who needed it.”

“Maybe it’s pouring some into us right now,” I suggested, letting the silence stretch between us, comfortable and intimate.

“Maybe,” he agreed, shifting slightly so his shoulder nudged against mine. Our bodies pressed closer on the blanket, and a warmth that had nothing to do with the mild autumn air blossomed in my chest.

“Travis—”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for this,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “For the stargazing, for the laughter, for making me feel…”

“Feel what?” he prompted when my words trailed off.

“Alive. Hopeful. Happy,” I finished, “in a way that I haven’t for a long time.”

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he moved even closer, pulling the blanket snugly around us. The fabric created a cocoon that held the night’s chill at bay and amplified the heat radiating between our bodies. It was like we were the only two souls in existence, wrapped in our own little bubble.

Our conversation drifted away, replaced by a symphony of night sounds—the distant call of an owl, the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, the steady rhythm of our breathing. And beneath the blanket, our hands remained entwined, a tangible connection that spoke volumes.

“Look, a shooting star!” Travis broke the silence, his voice tinged with excitement.

I followed his gaze just in time to see the bright streak fizzle out, leaving a glowing trail behind it. “Make a wish,” I said, the words coming out instinctively.

“Already have everything I wished for right here,” he murmured. He turned his face towards me, sending a shiver down my spine that wasn’t from the nighttime air.

“Me too,” I confessed, and it was true. In that moment, under the watchful eyes of countless stars, with Travis’s warmth seeping into my bones, I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else or with anyone else. This was where I belonged.

His breath was a warm whisper against my cheek, sending ripples of anticipation through me. The night had wrapped us in its velvety embrace, the only light coming from the flickering fire and the countless stars above. I could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, through the thin layer of our shirts as they pressed together. His fingers, still interlaced with mine, tightened ever so slightly—a silent plea for something more.

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