She leaned into him, half wishing Jupiter were an option and half grateful they would finally be alone together. Alone with Ben was Erin’s favorite pastime; she loved their private jokes and knowing he had chosen her over every other girl in Wheaton.
“Get a room, you two,” someone said from the hall.
Ben unlocked the door to their room—a genuine observatory—and Erin stumbled into the darkness. The telescope sat atop a rotating pedestal that spun to focus on different segments of the sky.
Lalitha’s mom, a professional amateur astronomer, traveled a lot, so Erin had used this telescope only twice. Erin wanted to make a whole life for herself in this room. The top five feet of the walls were window, and the ceiling, too. Windows on the universe. A vast void. The good kind.
Ben sprawled on the cushy white sofa. “This is kick-ass.”
Erin ran her fingers up the enormous, smooth telescope. It was old, so the tube was long, but she knew the brand, Meade, and they didn’t make cheap telescopes. Erin’s grampa’s best telescope had been a Celestron, but he’d longed for a professional Meade.
Ben extended his arms on the back of the sofa. “I’ll bet, with clear skies, you could get a really good look at the Big Dipper, huh?”
Erin preferred planets, asteroids, and meteors to connect-the-dots constellations, but Ben liked the light side of astronomy: constellations’ shapes and stories. Erin thought constellations reflected silly human efforts to make sense of the night sky, but she was afraid he would dump her if she mentioned that.
She peered through the eyepiece. “I want to see the crack in the moon. Or butterscotch Mars.” Erin’s grandfather had suggested Mars was more butterscotch than red. He had known everything about the universe. Together, they had written songs about living in Jupiter’s hurricane for a hundred and fifty years and imagined gravity on the moon.
“Erin? We have the room to ourselves. Lalitha promised not to interrupt our stargazing.”
“You said Jupiter.”
“Jupiter-gazing, fine. Whatever,” Ben said. “Can you just relax a minute?”
She tripped on her way to the cushy sofa and fell into Ben’s arms.
He laughed. “Happy birthday, my beautiful birthday girl.”
Erin tried to ignore the distinct taste of beer as Ben’s tongue darted into her mouth.
“You’re so warm,” he said, reaching up the back of her shirt.
Erin grabbed a cup—Ben’s, hers, she wasn’t sure—and spat into it. She had too much saliva in her mouth. She spat again. Better.
Ben stroked her back and unfastened her bra. Their routine now on autopilot, she kissed him. Who cared about the Quigleys when she had Ben? He loved her.
Ben pulled her shirt over her head.
Trying hard to focus as he tugged on her shorts, Erin said, “I need to slow down a little.”
Ben fanned a handful of condoms onto the table and reached for her again. His hands ran over her back, up her neck, and into her mass of tangled hair. His kisses elicited a flip-flop in Erin’s belly, but the flop didn’t feel quite right.
Ben maneuvered Erin into a supine position and lay on top of her.
Despite Erin’s enthusiasm, Ben felt too heavy on her stomach. She pushed him over and crawled on top of him.
He groaned. “Yeah, I like that!”
Erin kissed his belly and bit his T-shirt as she had the first time he’d said he loved her.
“This is like the perfect day,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Happy early birthday.”
“Thanks.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“We’re looking at the moon.” Ben grabbed Erin’s butt and she giggled.
He put his hand down the back of her underpants, squeezing her right butt cheek. Quickly, she sat up to make the room stop spinning. Too fast.
Ben pumped his hips upward, and it reminded Erin of dressage lessons long ago.
“Could you stop a minute?” she said. “Little dizzy.”
Ben propped up on his elbows. “Sure, yeah.”
They ignored more knocking.
“I need to stay upright, I think.” Erin coughed and spit in the cup again. “I think I’m okay.”
“If we’re not going to, you know, maybe I could sit in the chair and you could … play?”
She should have said no.
Sitting in the armless chair, Ben pulled her hips toward him. Her stomach flipped over again in a way that had nothing to do with Ben.
Kneeling on the floor, she felt queasy. “I’m feeling a little not right.”
She spat in the cup again and felt better. Just too much saliva in my mouth.
“I like it when you unzip me,” Ben said.
A zipper would have been easy, but his button fly was another matter altogether. Even her most intense focus could not force her hands to do the work.
She focused on speaking clearly. “Got to be you.”
Ben grabbed her hands and laughed. “Sweetie, how many drinks did you have?”
“Maybe two? And a half. An then jus fruit.”
Ben unbuttoned his pants.
More knocking.
“Give us a minute. Or ten. We’ll come out when we’re done.” Ben cringed. “Can you lick your hands or something?”
Erin licked her hands, but they dried in an instant. “Vaseline?”
Ben glanced from one end of the spinning observatory to the other. “Like, from where?”
The look on his face suggested they were both thinking the same thing, but Erin knew she shouldn’t put anything near her mouth.
Erin opened her mouth to apologize—and spewed pink vomit everywhere.
“The hell?” Ben shot from the chair, wiping the pink from his jeans and crotch.
Erin fumbled to the door. More pink stuff was on its way up.
FORTY-THREE
Jade and Marama stared at Erin.
“I was drunk. Like, fast drunk. Hairy Buffalo tasted like red Kool-Aid. Do you even have Kool-Aid? It was super sweet, so I couldn’t really taste the alcohol. And it had tons of fruit floating on top, and I just kept eating it, but Lalitha’s brother had soaked the fruit in vodka overnight, so it was super alcoholic.
“I ran into the hall and vomited everywhere. Everyone saw me, and everyone saw him. And everyone had video. I vomited until I
