The Brightest Star in a Constellation

53: Lost and Found

☽ Peter ☽

For the next few days, I settle into a refreshing routine. In the morning, I drive Evan to school. He gets into Europa's passenger seat, kicking his legs onto the dashboard, and tries out new nicknames for me.

During the lunch hour, we sit in the basement, working side-by-side. I type away on my laptop while Evan scrolls on his phone, occasionally leaning his head against the wall and listening to music. The sound of it pulls me away from my task, but Evan is distracting to me, anyway.

I'm not exactly being productive, that much is certain.

"Be right back." Evan stands and heads across the hall to the bathroom.

I return to my binder filled with notes. I still have a few pages lying around from the previous semester, so I take a moment to throw them out. Considering that I don't have Evan's dexterity, I toss them into the trash can without any fanfare.

The glimmer of something plastic on the floor catches my attention. It's covered in ashy dust.

Evan's hourglass. I scoop it into my hands, cleaning the reflective surface with my sleeve. It isn't broken, just dented.

"What are you doing?" Evan stands behind me, and I pivot to face him. We're barely inches apart.

Heat rushes through me. This version of Evan, I have gotten used to seeing. He isn't as unapproachable and cold. This Evan is my star.

I cover the hourglass and say, "Give me your hand."

"If you want to hold my hand, you can just say that," Evan says and follows my instruction. "Obviously—only if you want to—"

"Here." I place the hourglass into his palm, then take his free hand. His fingers curl around mine and skim across my knuckles.

"Where the hell did you find this?" He stares at the charm once lost from his key chain.

"Right here," I say with a shrug.

He turns it over, and the vibrant sand rushes to the bottom. It makes the softest noise as it does, like a wind chime. "I looked for this for ages."

I nod as Evan's hand flits to my chin. He rises to the tips of his toes to meet my height. A beat of silence charged with anticipation passes between us.

"Peter," he starts, "you know—"

The echo of footsteps against the stairway cuts him off. We step apart, and I wonder what would happen if we got caught.

A teacher appears in the hallway and passes behind us. Evan grabs his backpack and I zip it up for him. Neither of us says a word, but I spot the tint of pink rise on Evan's cheeks.

"You were saying?" I whisper as soon as the teacher disappears from view.

"I was saying, I think you might possess some ability to find hidden things. Have you looked for my sanity, lately? I lost that a long time ago."

I let out a wry chuckle. "I don't think that's true. Who told you that you were crazy?"

He sighs, leaning back into my grip. My hold on the zipper wanes, and it slips between my fumbling fingers. I wonder if he can sense how badly I want to hold him like it's only the two of us. I consider it, asking—if I can take away the barrier between us, and if he would allow me to run my tongue across his neck, pressing my teeth against it, like a desperate kiss.