Chapter 23

Vee sighed. “I haven’t stargazed since we broke up.”

I burrowed my nose into his hair and inhaled. The familiar citrusy scent of his shampoo lingered from the shower that morning, and I hummed. “Why not?”

“It…it was our thing. It didn’t feel right to do it without you.”

“I know,” I said. “I haven’t watched the last two seasons of American Horror Story.”

He chuckled. “You never watched that show anyway. You spent more time behind a pillow or with your faceburied in my stomach than actually watching it.”

“Did not.”

“Did, too.”

“Yeah,” I admitted with a sigh. I’d never been the bravest of men when it came to horror.

We sat in silence—accompanied only by the song of crickets—as we watched the sky fill with more and more stars. It was magnificent. More beautiful than the most exquisite piece of art. It made my fingers itch for my guitar; I wanted to sing its praise.