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The conversation on the twenty-minute ride had been short and awkward. What was she supposed to talk to him about? What did they have in common? They had always been from two different worlds, and it seemed they still were. His car still carried that new car smell. The interior black leather is spotless. The dashboard lit up with blue lighting around the top-of-the-line gadgets. The radio played a soft hum of eighties music to make her feel more comfortable. One of his hands rested on the wheel while the other was over his gear shifter. Rose caught herself glancing over him a few times before she forced her gaze out to the passing landscape. Regardless of how much she wanted to tell him off, the fact she was in Martin Brock’s car was something she had never dreamed of.
“We’re here.” His voice was soft; Rose glanced at him before turning to the structure. The Planetarium? Wait? She hadn’t been there since their Junior Field trip, another place she had loved as a child ruined by the taunts of him and his friends. This was a trick; she knew it. A knot formed in her stomach as they pulled up to the front of the building.
“We should leave,” she demanded, her once-strong voice shaky.
“Leave? Why?” he asked, confusion evident in his tone.
Rose didn’t want to tell him the truth, not at that moment. How could she say the idea of walking through those doors with him, reliving the horror she had endured, caused her panic? Her chest tightened as she spit out the only thing she could think of. “They are closed.”
Martin grinned. “I’ve taken care of that.” He quickly climbed out of the car and moved around to her side. Rose wanted to hold the door shut, hide in the car, call an uber, anything but what he asked. She remained in the seat as he opened the door, his hand held out for her to take. “I got you, don’t worry.” There was something in the way he said those words. The way he looked and waited for her put her at ease.
She slid her hand into his, and for the first time, she felt something with his touch. A shock, a jolt, call it whatever you wanted. Rose stood before him, lightheaded, as they stared into one another's eyes. This couldn’t be happening, she told herself. He backed up and moved beside her as he closed the door and helped her onto the sidewalk. He never let go of her hand, his fingers wrapped around the side in a secure hold. She glanced down at their hands, and for a split second, she felt happiness move over her.
“About time.” The voice caused Rose to look up, and instantly, her stride came to a stop. She knew the man who stood in the opened entrance, and her stomach twisted in knots. One of his high school friends, a football buddy, was one of her tormentors. Had she been right all along? She looked at Martin, who gripped her hand tighter to tell her she was okay.
“It’s okay.” He reassured her softly. Rose looked back at the man. Her desire to run grew, but she pushed it down and, for the first time, trusted Martin.
“I thought you got lost.” The man stated as they walked inside the empty building.
“Nah, not anymore.” Rose looked over to Martin with his words and smiled, her cheeks reddened. “Link, you remember Rose Denton, right?”
Rose exhaled and turned toward the man who stood with a nod and that same cocky grin she remembered.
“I do.” He spoke calmly. “How have you been?” He asked as though he wanted to know. He looked at her with kind eyes. How could this be?
“I’ve been okay, thank you,” Rose replied.
Martin released her hand and moved closer to her side, his hand placed lightly on the small of her back. Rose felt it once more, that jolt that came with his touch, his closeness. What did it mean? That nervous knot fell from her throat, her stomach no longer in flops. She allowed herself to relax; her shoulders lowered slightly as she nestled next to him for the first time. Rose refused to lower all her walls, yet she owed herself this night.
“Everything set up?” The question caused her to panic; her gaze shifted to the door as Martin motioned her deeper into the building. This was it, she thought. She had been naive.
“Martin, I…” Rose started to plead when her gaze shifted to the room they entered. Her lips parted as she nearly gasped.
The dome theater. The very room she had wanted to see most of all on their class trip. Red leather seats perfectly lined one row after the other. The carpet is light blue and purple.
A soft glow of lights placed along the walkway and up the levels of seating. She took a few steps from him, her fingers brushing over the closest chair she came past when the room went dark. She remained still, her head slightly leaned back as the ceiling came to life with stars, space…
“I remembered you liked stars.” Martin’s words came softly behind her. Did he remember that? She felt that flutter in her stomach, that light feeling in her head as he approached closer to her. This wasn’t real? It couldn’t be. She tried to convince herself it was all a dream, yet the gentle touch of his hand on hers proved her wrong.
She brought her gaze down to him, tears built in her eyes at the beauty he gave her. He had changed, she told herself, and allowed, at that moment, to embrace the wonders surrounding her.
CHAPTER8
Martin
He saw the tears in her eyes and instantly felt sorrow and dread. Had he upset her? He moved around her, his hand a light caress on her hip with his movement. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you…” Rose gave a short laugh and shook her head.
“No, no. These aren’t those kinds of tears.” She assured him. Martin nodded in understanding and kept his stare on her. So many times he had seen her cry, had been the root of it, and it did not faze him. Yet, as he stood before her, he wanted to take them away. To make her smile. To see the light shining behind her eyes once more.
“What can I do?” He asked, watching her as she glanced at the ceiling once more.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her, the way the soft lights hit her. It was like she glowed right before him—an Angel.
She brought her attention back to him. “Why am I here? With you?” He knew she would eventually ask the question, yet nothing had prepared him. What could he say? What did she need to hear? Did he need to open up about everything? Martin knew there were no excuses for how he treated her, and he respected her not to offer any.
“Do you want the long answer or the short one?” He asked.
