Page 44 of The Third Baseman

“It’s a clear night tonight; it’s not always like this. We’re too close to the city for it to be really amazing. My parents are taking me to Joshua Tree for my birthday. Apparently the sky there looks like it’s scattered with pin pricks of light.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“June seventeenth.”

“And you’ll be seventeen then?”

I nodded and looked back at the telescope. “I’ve set it up to give you the best view, so all you need to do is look through it. Sit down there,” I pointed to the stool underneath the eyepiece, “and then get as close as you need to.”

He glanced back at me one more time, and I nodded reassuringly that he was doing exactly what I’d told him to do.

He moved slowly and carefully, pulling back to glance at me again, before returning to his position. It made me smile because I realized he probably had the exact same look I’d had when I’d first peered through a telescope and had seen what he was now seeing.

“Careful,” I muttered, “it’s addictive.”

I picked up his backpack which was much lighter than it had sounded, and carried it to sit on the beanbag next to him. He’d barely moved, except to stretch his long legs out in front of him. I cringed a little when he rubbed his knee. Given our height difference was nearly a foot, I’d made an educated guess at where I needed to set the tripod at so it was comfortable, but given how much he was crouching, I think I’d gotten it wrong.

But he hadn’t complained, so I used the opportunity to properly look at him, because when they presented themselves, you had to take them, right?

Who knows when I’d get another?

Wisps of his dark hair curled under the bottom of his beanie, kind of blending into the shadow of thick stubble along his ruler-straight jaw. There weren’t many boys at school who could grow beards quite so thick yet, but he was one of a handful, and it was probably one reason that made him so popular. That and the rest…

Lips.

Eyes.

Body.

He wasn’t touching the telescope, but he’d positioned himself in such a way – with his elbow crooked on his knee – that I could see the outline of his bicep. I’d once heard one of the Athletics’ Office staff say that Jupiter Reeves could splinter a coconut on the milkcan from a hundred yards with a ball off his swing. I had to Google what it meant and sitting here, staring at the defined curves under the sleeve of his hoodie, I could well believe it.

I was almost more content to stare at him, while he was glancing up at the sky, than stare at the sky myself.

“Holy crap! A shooting star.” He pressed his eye closer on the pad. “Shit, there’s another! You gotta see this!”

He turned away almost reluctantly, making me laugh.

“This is amazing, you were right. Come on, you’re missing out on this. It’s your turn.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

I couldn’t read the look he had in his eyes as he moved back.

“Okay then, tell me what I’m looking at. Teach me about space,” he said earnestly, like we had all the time in the world.

His gaze bored into mine, eyes shining brighter than a supernova. Even though it was forty-eight degrees, a little bead of sweat developed and slid down my neck. Staring into his eyes was how I imagined a hypnotist worked, for the properties were the same, and I suddenly felt lightheaded, and more than happy to teach him about space for the rest of his life.

I blinked, releasing myself from my trance, and jumped up off the floor to work some air back into my lungs.

“Okay. Sure, I can do that.” I repositioned the beanbag I’d been sitting on so it was next to the other one, his one. “Here, lie on this.”

He got up and stepped back, then reached for his backpack and opened it. “If we’re going to watch a show, we need sustenance.”

He pulled out two massive bags of Garrett’s popcorn – one cheese and one caramel – the type my mom only gets at Christmas, and a bag of Dot’s Pretzels. I took them from him while he continued digging in his bag, producing a thermos and a couple of rolls of LifeSavers; one cherry, one mint.

“After you gave me these the other day, I haven’t been able to stop eating them,” he grinned, then passed me the thermos. “I made hot chocolate.”

I took it, mutely, my head spinning with confusion – and his closeness.

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