Page 57 of Heart Breaker

“How?”

“It just was.”

A slow smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and annoyingly, I can’t stop staring at it.

A galaxy blooms slowly across the domed ceiling above us, stars spilling endlessly overhead while soft orchestral music hums through the dark. The planetarium is quiet apart from the narrator’s low voice describing constellations and distant planets. Our seats are reclined so far back that I’m practically lying beside Wes as the night sky moves overhead.

I hadn’t expected this. Not even remotely. When Wes said I needed an open mind, I’d assumed our date might involve weird performance art or some barely known underground band. Maybe a night fair where we’d eat mounds of fried food and Wes would spend too much time and too much money trying to win me a stuffed animal. And normally, I would’ve loved that. I like crowded places and loud music, nights that turn into stories you’ll be telling for years to come. But tonight, with the stress of running into my parents and the ache of watching my dad getting sicker, it feels like my brain is already on overload.

I get the feeling that Wes knew that and that’s why he brought me here. And I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than sitting shoulder to shoulder with him in near darkness, staring up at the twinkling light of thousands of pretend stars.

“This is kind of amazing,” I whisper.

“I know.”

The quiet confidence in his voice makes that thing in my chest tighten again. It’s unexpected, but not surprising. Somehow, Wes seems to know exactly what I need, like he’s been paying attention to things I don’t even realize I’ve said out loud. I glance over at him again as another galaxy stretches slowly across the ceiling overhead.

“You sure you can sit through another hour of this?” I whisper. “Be honest. On a scale from one to ten, how much do you want this to end?”

A quiet laugh rumbles out of him. “It’s not really my thing.” I knew it. “But,” he says, turning his head slightly toward me now, “I had a feeling it might be yours.”

The simple honesty of his words catches me off guard.

“That’s actually… really sweet.”

His gaze lingers on my face again, like it’s been doing all night. Then, quietly he says, “I forgot to tell you something earlier.”

I nod and his gray eyes move slowly over me beneath the dim blue glow of the artificial stars.

“You look beautiful tonight, Peach,” he murmurs. “That probably should’ve been the first thing out of my mouth when you walked downstairs. But honestly, I think seeing you kind of scrambled my brain for a minute.”

“Wes—”

“I’m serious.” His voice is rougher now, making my pulse stumble. In this moment, all I can think of is Wes. Forget the planetarium. The people sitting rows below us. The soft narration still echoing faintly through the dark room. All I can see is him, and the way he’s looking at me. The tension between us tightens almost painfully and for one reckless moment, things between Wes and I stop feeling fake altogether. Everything about tonight has felt dangerously real, like everything he does or says is sincere and intentional.

The way his palm settled against my lower back as we waited in line for tickets, warm and steady over my sweater. They way he instinctively pulls me a little nearer to his side as we walk. And the stupid part is how much I like it. Every single time he touches me like that, I get that same swimmy feeling in my stomach.

And now we’re here, tucked into the back row beneath a ceiling full of stars, his eyes on me, his thigh pressed firmly against mine. Every small shift of his leg sends awareness skittering straight down my spine making me painfully aware of every inch of him beside me. The weight of his arm resting near mine, the clean scent of his cologne. The warmth of his body leaning into mine.

Neither of us has moved away from it once.

I stare up at the constellation drifting slowly overhead before turning my head toward him. “Thank you for bringing me here,” I whisper. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this light.”

Wes looks over at me, and even in the dark, I can see his expression soften. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says at the same time as his hand reaches over and settles on my thigh.

My entire body betrays me, with heat spiralling low through my stomach while my cheeks flush so instantly that I’m suddenly grateful the room is dark.

His palm is flat and warm against my leg as his thumb brushes back and forth like he’s testing the line between offering comfort and something far more dangerous.

I turn my head slightly toward him before I can stop myself. What a mistake. His eyes are already on me, dark in the low blue glow of the room, steady and intent in a way that I’ve never seen before. The breath catches in my throat. Wes’s jaw flexes once before his tongue drags briefly across his bottom lip, and then his gaze drops slowly to my mouth.

Suddenly the air between us feels too thick. Every quiet inhale feels loaded with things neither of us are saying out loud. We’ve been dancing around this line for days now. The almost touches, the lingering looks, the way he keeps finding excuses to touch me. I can feel that restraint between us starting to wear dangerously thin, like one wrong move might finally snap it completely.

For a moment, neither of us moves until Wes leans closer, slowly enough that my pulse has time to climb into my throat. Every glance from him feels loaded now. Every touch. Every quiet breath in the dark seems to pull us closer to something inevitable. It feels like the entire room is shrinking around us. Like the universe spinning overhead has narrowed down to just this moment—his hand on my thigh, his eyes on my mouth, the tension pulling tighter and tighter between us until I can barely think straight. I want him. God, I want him. And it’s becoming very hard to pretend otherwise.

My pulse pounds harder as I watch the muscle flex in his jaw again, his fingers tightening slightly against my thigh like he’s fighting himself in real time. My hands tighten instinctively in my lap, and Wes’s gaze drops immediately to the movement before dragging slowly back up my body until it lands on my face again. The look in his eyes steals whatever breath I had left.

“Wes,” I whisper, my pulse hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat. “What are you doing?”