Page 39 of Written in the Stars
Elle shoved her hands in the pockets of her crazy dress, the navy color complementing her skin—the rest of her, too—perfectly. She practically glowed. “It’s just up Second to Union till it turns to Pike and then up to Belmont.” A breeze blew past, ruffling Elle’s bangs and making her shiver. “Not far.”
Darcy hadn’t lived in the city for long, but she knew it was a trek to Capitol Hill, over a mile. It was after eleven, dark, and the temperatures were dropping, not quite below freezing but enough to make her breath fog. Elle wasn’t even wearing a jacket. Walking—and by herself no less—wasn’t smart.
“We’ll split an Uber,” she suggested, thankful when Brendon nodded.
Elle didn’t look sold. “Isn’t that out of the way? You’re in Queen Anne and Brendon’s over on the Eastside so—”
“I drove.” Brendon tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I left my car in Darcy’s parking garage and took advantage of the guest space. Free parking.”
Elle appeared a bit more convinced, the frown between her brows softening. “Okay. Thanks.”
Within five minutes, their Uber arrived, a blue Prius with a back seat nowhere near big enough for the three of them, so Brendon called shotgun, as if they’d have chosen any other configuration.
Wrinkling her nose at the smell of old takeout and musty gym clothes, Darcy slipped inside the back seat, shuffling over to make room. Elle sat, hands tucking around the back of her skirt as she swung her legs inside the vehicle, those strange, sparkling combat boots catching the streetlight and turning the black patent leather into an oil slick against Elle’s pale skin.Skin bare all the way to where the hem of Elle’s dress brushed against her thighs.
Don’t think about it.
Face prickling with heat, Darcy tore her eyes away and stared resolutely out the window. The lights from bars and late-night eateries blurred past, stoplights reflecting off puddles on the ground and turning the city into a neon nightscape, still nowhere near as colorful as the girl sitting beside her.
Techno-pop blasted through the speakers and beneath her, the electric engine purred, the combined beat rumbling through her body and sinking into her bones, making her aware of her heartbeat. It was beating too fast, faster even when the driver made a right at the light and the tire rolled over the curb, jostling them until Darcy, once again, nearly had a lapful of Elle.
Elle steadied herself with a hand on Darcy’s thigh.Don’t think about itdidn’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 someonewho’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 ofchance.
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. Brendonwaswatching, 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.”
