Parallel

threat?
    “She’s the best,” I say, and leave it at that.
    We’re quiet for a minute as we survey the sardine can that was once Ilana’s living room. People are jammed into the oversized space, their voices reverberating off the vaulted ceiling above. Tyler is dancing now, twirling our slaphappy hostess. I glance back at Caitlin and see her watching them out of the corner of her eye. She doesn’t look like a girl who doesn’t care who Tyler dates. She looks like a girl who cares very, very much.
    Josh touches my arm. I jump, as if electrified.
    “Wanna take a walk?” he shouts.
    “Outside?”
    “Nah. I figured a stroll around the living room might be a good way to spend the next thirty minutes,” Josh teases, still shouting to be heard. “Yes, outside. Where I’ll actually be able to hear you, instead of just pretending that I can.” He sets his beer down on the coffee table and nods at the door.
    My heart has sped up again at the thought of being alone with him. I put my half-empty bottle down next to his full one and follow him out the front door.
    The air outside has cooled off quite a bit, and the sky is perfectly clear. “Which way?” Josh asks when we reach the street.
    “Left?” I suggest.
    “Left it is.”
    We walk in silence for a few minutes, but it’s not awkward silence. It’s more like this-moment-is-going-so-well-I-don’t-want-to-ruin-it-by-talking silence. On my end, at least. I glance over at Josh. He has his head back, looking up at the night sky. His hair is damp, and there’s a tiny piece of soap tucked under the top rim of his ear. It strikes me how recently he must’ve showered. How recently he was naked. Get ahold of yourself, Barnes.
    “We’re about three days too early for a good moon,” I hear Josh say. I tilt my head back. There’s a thin sliver of light hanging low in the sky.
    “But in three days, there won’t be a moon,” I point out.
    “Exactly. No light pollution.” He looks over at me and smiles. “This probably isn’t something you’re supposed to say at a moment like this, but I think the moon is seriously overrated.” A moment like what? I bite my cheeks, taming the grin that threatens to take over my face.
    “And the stars?” I ask, once the smile is under control.
    “Wildly underrated,” he declares with a grin. He looks up again. “The sky is a storybook,” he says then. “Every constellation’s like its own fairy tale.”
    “Do you have a favorite?” I let my arm drift away from my body, until my elbow grazes his forearm. It’s awkward to hold my arm like this, but I do it anyway, liking how it feels to be touching him.
    “Cygnus,” he replies, pointing. “The Swan.” I squint, trying to make it out.
    “Here, stop for a sec.” Josh comes around behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders, turning me slightly. “Okay, now look up. See that really bright star right there?” I nod, so rattled by being this close to him that I don’t trust myself to speak. “That’s his tail,” he says, pointing, his arm just inches from my cheek. His skin smells like Irish Spring. I inhale deeply, letting my eyelids flutter closed for a just a second as I breathe him in. “Imagine him diving at a forty-five-degree angle, facing down, his wings outstretched,” I hear Josh say. His breath is warm on my ear. “There’s his neck, his beak . . . and those are his two wings.” I force my eyes open, and the figure he’s describing leaps out at me.
    “Wow,” I whisper. “He’s big.”
    “He’s huge. See that star there, at the tip of his beak?” Josh points. “That’s Albireo. You can’t tell without a telescope, but it’s actually a double.”
    “A double?”
    “Two stars orbiting around the same center of gravity,” he explains. “All double stars are pretty cool, but this particular one is especially cool because of its colors. Albireo A is bright gold and Albireo B is sapphire.”
    “I don’t think I knew that stars could be different colors,” I say, turning to face him.
    “Hang out with a stars guy and you’ll learn all sorts of stuff.” We’re standing really close now, just inches apart. I suck on my gum, trying to extract whatever remains of its original mintiness. Josh, meanwhile, has delicious cinnamon breath. How can a person smell so manly and so sweet?
    “So what’s the swan’s story?” I ask. “What’s he diving for?”
    “His best friend,” Josh replies, his eyes still on the sky. “Phaethon