Again, But Better

16. A Million Little Shining Stars
I sit in the middle of the taxi bench. Pilot’s on my left, Babe is
on my right, and Chad’s in the front seat. I want to lean into
Pilot’s shoulder. I don’t have much shoulder-leaning
experience, but I think I could handle it. I don’t do it.
In the silence, my brain replays the night on a loop, my
stomach going up and down, like on one of those milder roller
coasters with lots of little unexpected drops. I focus on the
good parts. Something is happening with Pilot. It makes my
heart balloon up in my chest.
After an eternity, we spill out onto the gray concrete
outside the hostel.
Babe and Chad get out at their floor, and as the elevator
doors close behind them, I blow out a breath. Babe and Chad’s
anger made for a quiet, tense cab ride. I want to lighten the
mood again. Pilot’s leaning against the railing along the back
wall of the lift, staring at the doors.
“Finally,” I say, breaking the extended silence. He turns to
me expectantly, and I freeze up.
Finally? 
Finally what?
Jesus Christ. I curve my lips up into
a small smile. Smiling is always good. He smiles back, but
doesn’t say anything, and then abruptly stuffs his hands in his
pockets and looks at the floor.
The elevator dings. Nerves snap around inside me as we
walk toward the room. I feel like one of those crackling orbs
of electricity you see at science museums. When we reach the

---

door, I dig around in my purse for the key. Another eternity
passes before I yank it out and plug it into the lock.
“Shane,” he says.
I turn around. He was right behind me, right in front of me
now. He’s leaning toward me again, and the world slows. I still
don’t know what to do. Where will my arms go! I’m having a
hot flash. My hand grapples at the key behind me. I rip it out
of the lock and drop it to the floor, jumping slightly as it
clashes against the white tile. Pilot jerks his head back. I whip
around, swoop to collect the key, plug it back into the lock,
twist the door open, drop my purse, collect my suitcase, and
speed to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
When I emerge fifteen minutes later, Pilot’s seemingly
passed out on his single. I slip quietly into my bed. My heart’s
in overdrive. I can’t get it to calm down. I snuggle up in the
covers and pull my legs into the fetal position. Almost
immediately, tears spring into my eyes.
No.
Why am I crying? No crying! I twist onto my back,
letting the saltwater slide down my cheeks. I gasp in a shallow
breath, staring at the ceiling. Seriously, what’s wrong with me?
I flash to Pilot at the club, Chad’s face on mine, Babe’s glare,
the man’s face on the steps of the Metro, Pilot again outside
the door. My study abroad goal list would be ashamed. I
wasn’t brave tonight; I was pathetic. And I almost lost my
purse. 
Again.
I suck more oxygen. Close my eyes. 
Stop.
Crying.
There’s light tap on my shoulder. My eyes snap open.
Pilot’s standing next to my bed. I frantically wipe at any still
dripping tears and jolt up to my elbows.
“Hey,” he says, quietly hovering above me. I just look at
him. What is he doing? He nods his head in a move-over
gesture.
Hesitantly, I scoot to the left side of the twin bed. He sits
and 
lowers himself down next to me,
on his back, facing the
ceiling. Holy shit. I flatten onto my back again. I suck in one

---

last steadying breath, damming up the waterworks through
sheer force of will.
He’s still wearing his jeans and a white T-shirt.
“Are you okay?” he says softly.
I talk to the ceiling. “Yeah … I’m sorry, this is stupid.”
Another breath. “I’m just feeling overwhelmed or something.”
“Someone almost mugged you; it’s not stupid to feel
overwhelmed.”
I blink up at the ceiling.
“Can I ask you something?” Pilot continues.
“Yeah.”
He turns onto his left side, propping his head up with his
arm. I rotate to my right to match—insides in full freak-out
mode.
Pilot purses his lips. “Do you think Chad is Santa?”
A laugh bursts out of me. “Dear god, I hope not,” I say
shakily.
Pilot grins. “Do you have any siblings?” he asks.
Master of distraction. My eyes drift down to his mouth and
quickly back up to his eyes. “No, I’ve got a load of cousins,
though. You?”
“Two younger sisters,” he says.
Two younger sisters. Is that why he’s so nice? I smile to
myself.
“What?” he asks, lips turning up.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. I rotate onto my back again,
falling under the pressure of prolonged eye contact and opting
to stare at the ceiling. I feel Pilot shift next to me until we’re
side by side again. Sharing a pillow.
I swallow. “What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done?”

---

He purses his lips for a moment. “I— What do you mean
by scary?”
“I mean, not scary commercially, but scary to you, you
know?”
There’s a beat of silence before he answers. “I’m not
sure … I kind of left my … I mean”—he blows out a breath
—“I guess change has always been scary for me.”
I’m quiet for a moment, nodding in agreement and
working up the courage to speak.
“This is the scariest thing I’ve ever done,” I whisper.
“What—”
“I mean, not this-this—I mean, coming out here for study
abroad. I’m not very good at trying new things, and I’ve never
been this far from my family. Um, but more than that, I’m, I’m
always the good child, you know. I get great grades, and I
don’t talk back. I do what they tell me to do. It’s only me, and
I want to make them happy, and I’ve never lied to them. So,
when I lied to them about this, they believed me.”
“They don’t know you’re out here?” he asks quietly.
I huff a sad chuckle. “I’m premed, so I told them I’m out
here doing a premed program. I, like, made a fake brochure
and everything. I took care of all the paperwork and stuff. But
there is no premed track out here … and they’re gonna be
pissed when they find out.”
“I thought you were an English major.”
“They wouldn’t pay for college if I didn’t major in
something that lined me up for a