Look, Freya! Shooting Stars!

She was astride two worlds. There was a sense Freya could step backward to return to the way things had been, discarding all that had followed. But she tarried too long at the limen and lost her chance. The hand that gently shook her awake was not Randall’s. Randall was gone.

The wrong world shifted into focus as she blinked. The overhead light was on, Dan smiled down at her in the amber glow. There was no Unity. He mistook her bitter disappointment for grumpiness. The Toyota idled in front of Freya’s house. Lassa’s car was still gone.

Why now? Why couldn’t it ever stop?

Freya had been looking forward to this for so long. Now, it was time, and she clutched an open wound in the passenger seat. It never got better. She hoped Dan wouldn’t notice, but he knew her too well.

“Are you okay?” Dan asked.

“Bad dream,” Freya mumbled, not wanting to explain, even to someone who had been through all of it.

Dan reached out and held her hand, he was gentle and patient. There was no pressure for anything more. The dashboard clock flicked to midnight. She felt better. Even without reading her mind, even without the Starball, Dan understood her. She leaned over and rested her head against his shoulder, feeling very fortunate.

“Thanks for taking me to the concert.”

“I should go, I’ve got work early,” Dan said, and she there was reluctance in his voice. Freya made a small, sad noise that she meant to be cute, but it didn’t land right. She didn’t want Dan to leave, but she was afraid to invite him in. Whether she let him go or asked him to stay, Freya felt certain she would regret it.

Was she ready? Was he? All the advice everyone had given her was crashing together in her mind. She took a deep breath, trying to listen for what she felt.

“Do you want to come inside?” Freya asked abruptly. Dan hesitated. She almost wanted him to say no. She already knew how rejection felt, it wasn’t scary. Dan made up his mind.

“Yes!” Dan said. He tried his hardest not to look daunted. She smiled and led him inside.

They kissed the moment the door closed behind them, and then they had to awkwardly tear themselves apart long enough to get their coats off. For the second time, Dan gawked at her green dress, and it made her blush. Freya didn’t know how to be admired, but she knew how to put a stop to it.

She stepped in and pulled Dan closer to her. She had to stand on her toes to kiss him. She was very aware there was only thin fabric between them. Dan hugged her closer, her breasts pressing against his chest. He was so warm. It felt like she was flying as they kissed, then she was startled when her feet left the ground.

Dan lifted her off her feet like she weighed nothing. He was so much stronger than she was, taller, bigger, and his scent bled through the faded deodorant and aftershave.

Her eyes were wide open, her sense of smell sharp, and it felt as if someone had turned up the gain on every nerve in her body. Dan lowered her back to her feet, but the feeling of being lifted remained. She stared up into his eyes, and naked want gleamed back at her. When she couldn’t bear it any longer, Freya shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling the breath flutter in her chest. It meant so much to be wanted.

His lips were on her neck, and it was too much, the breath escaped as a high, wild sound that surprised them both. Dan pulled back in surprise, and Freya felt embarrassed, but she shoved it away. Five hours ago, they were a single being spread across two bodies. Freya covered her mouth theatrically, and Dan couldn’t help but laugh. Suddenly, it was all so funny. They tumbled onto the couch in a roar of late-night giddiness, laughing too hard to do anything but cling to each other.

Unity began as an echo of their flustered laughter, and they were snared by its gravity. Freya and Dan were prepared this time. They knew how it felt to be within each other. The terror they’d once felt was reduced to a straying sense of apprehension.

Unity was stronger every time. They shared a moment of worry it would never end, they would get lost within this and never regain themselves. A counterpoint wheeled against that idea, a suspicion that, if they let go, they would never be alone again.

Their breathing linked and their hearts were racing in tandem as thoughts flickered back and forth between them. Their individual ideas drifted away like leaves on the surface of a river. The thoughts they shared remained, twisting together in a tight weave until it was taut and resonating between them.

With every breath, they drew closer, and when their lips met, it was like an electric arc. A brilliant blue light flared in their mind’s eye. There was only now, only them.

Dan wanted to touch her, Freya wanted to be touched, wanted to touch him, she wanted everything. His hand slid down her cheek and his fingertips traced along her neck, dancing along a narrow edge between wonderful and unbearable. Her hand was against his chest, sliding down to feel the ridges of his abdominal muscles. He was lean and hard from running.

Each of them tried to reconcile the effect their body had on the other. They were so used to themselves and so marvelous to each other. She undid a button on his shirt as he traced a finger down the edge of her dress, just at the edge of slipping under it.

Don’t stop, they thought together.

She undid another button. Her hand was against his stomach, a twinge shot through Dan’s body. His hand slipped beneath the hem, and even greater than her own feeling was the way the soft surrender of her breast amazed him. The bashfulness she’d felt before was gone, replaced by an odd pride. Her effect on Dan was undeniable.

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Freya slipped her hand towards his belt and felt pangs of alarm, he was so close already. She felt Dan, rigid and straining against his pants. He was trying to back off, but he was trapped in her body’s response. She was flooded, she wanted to feel him, to take all of him.

His hand slipped lower, her nipples standing straight up, her hand slipping under his belt, and it was more than either of them could bear. Dan shut his eyes and began to come, surging and explosive. Freya tried to focus on the feeling, wanting to savor every instant, but his orgasm set her off. The shut their eyes and clung to each other. They hadn’t even made it to the couch.

There was nothing like conscious thought from either of them, just a gasping thrum of soaring pleasure. Somewhere in the confusion she’d set her hand onto his penis. Through his pants, she felt the aftershocks trembling through it. She was fascinated. It was the first she’d ever touched. There was an arresting smell in the air that reminded her of spring.

I made him come, she hummed with pride. We don’t even need to touch each other.

“Sorry,” he whispered, and she felt a flicker of Dan’s shame that he’d come so quickly. The meaning of the word was disintegrating even as he said it. She’d was inside him, and she knew it was more than he could bear. An unwanted flicker of Lassa telling her not to expect too much arose, and he winced, even as she scrambled to distance herself from the thought.

That wasn’t me, Freya protested, but it was too late. Dan was getting mired in his insecurity, too ugly, too fast, not big enough. Freya tried to answer each with a wave of reassurance, telling him it was all exaggerated and unfounded. She’d never done this before. She hadn’t expected to be the strong one.

Dan couldn’t understand why she didn’t feel guilt over what they’d done. There was something about sex inextricably wound up in remorse for him, but she didn’t share the feeling at all.

She wondered where that guilt came from, was he religious? They’d never talked about it. She probed at him, and he retracted immediately. He didn’t want to go that way.

Freya held up her palms, trying to halt, but he was already tumbling down the path. In his memory, she felt heat, warm and pulsing in his hand, while another encircled him tightly. She was suddenly very interested. Was this what he had been so desperate to hide?

Dan recoiled, caught in a whirl of self-disgust, angry at her for pursuing. The memory was a penetrating and unresolved shame. His heart raced ahead of hers. His thoughts sharpened, clawing forward at a manic pace. She knew! She would denounce him, cast him out. Everyone would find out. Something twisted was building in him.

“No!” Freya’s voice rose, stunning against the silence that had grown around them. “I wouldn’t!” she swore, and she meant it, but her words were undercut by the rise of her own fear, her sudden awareness of how badly it could end for her if he lost control. It was just like the night where he’d had the panic attack.

“Please, breathe,” she said, drawing a deep breath. At first, he couldn’t. There was too much tightness in his chest. Her fear made him feel like a monster.

“Dan, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Freya reached out for his hand. “Come back,” she pleaded.

Freya took Dan’s hand and put it over her heart. She put hers against his so their heartbeats synchronized. It was the price of Unity. She had to take all his fear, all his pain. He turned his face from her, tears trickling down his cheeks, but there was no hiding from it.

Now, Freya knew his secret. Dan and Rigo had explored more than just weird drugs. One night, they got high and jacked each other off. In his memory, the act was only a warm blur, but his regret was vivid and raw. Dan hated he’d done it, hated she’d found out. His thoughts were bitter and lashing like serpents. It was a mistake, he wasn’t that, wasn’t that way. He and Rigo had barely spoken since. He’d never told anyone, not even Dr. Garbuglio.

His thought rang clear: It was a disgusting mistake.

Yet, in Unity, all was revealed. The constructs Dan had built around the memory came apart at the slightest scrutiny from an outsider. Freya saw the doubts that lapped at his denial, the way the night popped into his mind unbidden as he masturbated sometimes. He was afraid of what it meant, afraid of what she would think of him.

Freya only felt relief. This was such a little thing compared with the looming and awful scenarios she’d imagined.

That’s nothing, she tried to assure him, and then she felt a twinge of remorse for being dismissive about something that had traumatized him.

I don’t think it’s disgusting at all, Freya thought, and Dan was bewildered.

“I think it’s hot,” Freya whispered in his ear, and the words pierced him. He’d been so afraid of this moment, so sure he would lose everything. He hadn’t even dared to hope for acceptance.

“What if I’m—” he couldn’t complete the thought. It was a question he couldn’t even ask himself yet.

“I want all of you. Everything about you,” she promised.

A door opened inside him. Shining through it was a fierce and unexpected joy.

Everything.

Unity wound down, and they hugged each other, trying to draw out the feeling of oneness for as long as they could.

When they broke the embrace, they drifted onto the couch and sat there reeling. It had all been so intense. There was a slick patch on the front of his suit pants, and Freya was a little worried she’d leave a wet spot on the cushion beneath her. His cheeks reddened when he caught her staring.

“You could spend the night,” she offered, even though she was sure he wouldn’t. She wanted so badly to wake up with him beside her.

“I want to, I just can’t. Not yet. I’m sorry, this is just so much.”

Freya nodded. She was disappointed, but she understood.

“You won’t tell anyone?” Dan caught himself talking as if he didn’t know the answer. “I’m sorry for even asking, I know you won’t.”

“Never,” she promised.

“I’m sorry I can’t—” His eyes pointed to her bedroom.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Freya offered, though she wasn’t sure she was even ready. More than anything else, she just wanted to sleep in his arms, to wake up and find him there.

“This was such a good night, thank you for sharing it with me.” Freya looked into his eyes wishing Unity never had to end. She wanted to say more, but she didn’t trust herself to say it right. They lingered a little while longer and, when the door closed behind him, she wanted to rush into the driveway and beg him to stay. Silence settled over the house. She felt completely alone.

After a few minutes, she got up and picked up her coat off the floor, searching in her pocket for the Starball. She needed something to hold onto.