Scam of Stars
Wicked42
“You bought me a star?” Gwen said, deadpan.
Beside her, David beamed. “Not just any star.” He held his phone up to the sky, eyes flicking between the dark screen—filled with white dots—and the dark sky—also filled with white dots. Gwen hid a smile as his brows knitted together, as he chewed his lower lip, as his green eyes centered on one particular dot with triumph. “That star!”
He pointed.
Gwen followed his gaze, but the view at Camp Campbell was unparalleled. With no nearby cities, the stars were fully visible, Milky Way and all. Which meant it was nearly as blinding to go stargazing as it was to stare at the sun itself.
Her eyes roamed the dark sky. “I’m going to be honest, David, but I have no fucking clue what you’re pointing at.”
“It’s—” he consulted his phone again, then squinted at something a little east of the Little Dipper. “—that one! Right there, between those three other stars.”
Another few minutes ticked by, where he pointed helpfully and she stared at stars that might as well have been paint splatters on a canvas, for how distinct they were.
“Um…”
“Right there,” he said again.
Jesus, they could do this all night. Gwen squeezed his free hand, tangled together on the grass, and gasped, “Oh my gosh, that one? David, it’s gorgeous. I love it!”
His face brightened, eyes sparkling with a multitude of stars. “Really? It reminds me of you.”
She couldn’t help it. “A dot reminds you of me?” her tone was back to wry, sarcastic, and she clamped down on a laugh.
“Of course,” David looked mildly offended now, lowering his cell phone. “It’s the eastern star of the Phoenix constellation. And you… you remind me of a phoenix. You’ve had some tough times in your life, but you’ve always risen above, brighter than ever. Fierce and lovely and burning brighter than a star.”
Gwen stared at him. He stared back, a soft smile on his lips.
“That’s—” she cut herself off, then pulled him into a kiss. He melted against her as she tried to convey a star’s worth of emotion. How she may be his star, but he was her goddamn moon. How he shifted the very gravity around her. How she was almost like the ocean, swelling to meet him, receding into a fraction of what she could be when he was gone.
When she pulled away, he leaned after her, dazed and grinning like a fool. His phone had dropped to the grass, and she picked it up for a moment, consulting the map he was referencing before this all began.
CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR STAR PURCHASE, the website said. “GWEN” IS IN OUR REGISTRY!
She wondered if she should tell him. That it was a scam, that stars couldn’t be “bought.” That this company ran a fake registry and sold products they had no right to claim. That “Gwen” had probably been named a hundred times by a hundred people as optimistically stupid as David could be.
But she didn’t. Because for everyone buying a star, there was a significant other who kept their mouth shut and accepted it with grace and dignity, not because of the star itself, but because they were lucky enough to be with someone bright and happy enough to see the world as a planet of stars.
And laying on that hillside, staring at a goddamn galaxy, Gwen felt pretty lucky indeed.
