Page 49 of Bound By Stars
“You continue to surprise me, Jupe.”
His shoulders relax as a grin stretches across his face. “You called me Jupe.”
Warmth blooms in my rib cage.
When we round the corner, everyone is stopped.
Flanked by five porters, the captain blocks our path with his arms crossed over his white vest, the brass-edged star pin gleaming in the light of the hall. “…past curfew. What makes you think you’re somehow exempt from the rules?”
“I’m so sorry, Dad, we…” Asha snaps her mouth closed when he whips around to face her and Tar.
“I’ll deal with the two of you later. I’m taking you home. We’ll discuss this in the morning.” He nods to the people in navy vests. “Escort each of them to their quarters.”
The porters split, pairing up and separating us.
One pushes me forward with a hand on my back and I slap it away. “I can walk without your help, thank you.” I split right, the porter scrambling to keep up.
“Good night, Wes.” Jupiter walks backward in the opposite direction, that silly grin still painted across his face.
“Night, Jupe.” I bite my lips, starting to turn away, but then freeze when my eyes lock with the porter behind him.
Dressed in his navy porter vest, Reve waits for Jupiter to catch up, jaw tight and a nearly imperceptible sadness in his dark eyes. His blank stare burrows through me, tugging at something deep in my gut.
Cold guilt floods my veins as he tucks his chin and spins away. He was the one who told me to play their game. Make them believe I’m one of them.
“See you tomorrow,” Jupiter calls, following Reve around a corner.
Hours later, when I’m in bed, my mind keeps serving up flashes of Reve. The look on his face. Like I’d somehow betrayed him. And then Jupiter. His sincere grin, right eye squinted more than the left. Every small, patient gesture in the cargo hold.
No one’s ever been that careful with me.
Stop, Weslie. You cannot be lying awake thinking about these boys. Especially not a Big Six heir. He’s definitely off-limits.
I flip over, pressing my face into my pillow.
We are friends. That’s where this ends. I have enough going on without complicating my life with messy feelings.
But my palm still tingles along the trails left by Jupiter’s long fingers, and I let myself imagine more until it bleeds into my dreams.
My eyes fly open. I sit up in bed, my heart already pounding, but my body is heavy, slow like I’ve been drugged.
Red light fills my room, turning the green curtains and dark wood to the color of dried blood.
A nightmare? But it feels so real.
A buzzing, high-pitched alarm rings out in quick bursts between a repeating message that finally becomes clear in my foggy brain. “Oxygen level critical. Your unit is experiencing a loss of breathable air. Please make your way to the exit promptly.”
Chapter Twenty
Weslie
Twenty-two days to Mars
“Weslie, oxygen level 17 percent. Do I have your permission to administer oxygen?” ILSA is undocked from her charging port, parked next to the bed with a yellow triangle on her face screen.
Waving her off, I gasp for air, inhaling faster with each incomplete breath. The room is shrinking. The walls are closing in around me. I put my hands out to hold them off, stumbling out of bed.
The alarm cuts off. “Oxygen level critical. Your unit is experiencing a loss of breathable air. Please make your way to the exit promptly,” the automated voice repeats.
