Sam's POV
The laughter doesn't leave when the day ends.
It follows me home, sneaks into my room, settles quietly beside me like it has every right to be there. I sit cross-legged on my bed, my notebook open on my lap, pen resting uselessly between my fingers. The page is blank, but my head isn't.
Liam's laugh echoes again—low, surprised, real.
I shut the notebook with a soft thud.
"This is ridiculous," I mutter to no one.
It was just a class. Just a worksheet. Just… walking to lockers.
And yet my heart keeps doing that strange, uneven thing every time I remember the way he looked at me when I laughed. Like he hadn't expected it. Like he wanted to remember it.
I shake my head, standing up and pacing my room. My window is open; night air drifts in, cool and quiet. Somewhere in the house, Aunt Luna and Aunt Dena are talking softly, their voices blending into the background like distant waves.
I should be writing.
Poetry always helps. It's how I untangle feelings I don't have words for yet. But tonight, the words refuse to come. Or maybe I'm scared of what they'll say if they do.
My phone buzzes on the bed.
I stop pacing instantly.
Then I frown when I see the name.
ZOE 💫
We haven't known each other long. A few weeks, maybe. She's loud, confident, impossible to ignore—everything I'm not. Somehow, she slipped into my life anyway, like she'd always planned to be there.
I pick up the phone.
ZOE: Important question.
I sit back down.
SAM: That sounds ominous.
ZOE: Are you busy tonight?
I glance at my notebook, at the untouched page.
SAM: Not really.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
ZOE: Perfect. Stargazing. The field near the old school boundary.
My heart stutters.
The field.
I've heard about it—everyone has. Wide open, quiet, far from streetlights. Zoe talks about it like it's sacred ground. Somewhere you go when you want to breathe.
I hesitate, fingers hovering over the screen.
SAM: Tonight?
ZOE: Yep. Clear sky. Best kind of night.
I swallow.
There's something she hasn't said yet. I can feel it, like a pause before a door opens.
As if on cue—
ZOE: Before you ask—Liam's already in.
There it is.
My chest tightens, a strange mix of nerves and something warmer I refuse to name.
SAM: Oh.
Brilliant response, Sam.
ZOE: Relax. It's just us. Trio energy.
Trio.
That word feels… new. Uncertain. Zoe and Liam have history—years of it. Childhood memories, shared jokes, inside references I don't always understand. I'm the newest piece, still trying to figure out where I fit.
SAM: You two go way back.
A pause. Longer this time.
ZOE: Yeah. Since forever. Which is exactly why this isn't weird.
Is it?
I stare at the ceiling, replaying the hallway moment again. The teasing. The smile. The way walking beside him felt… natural.
Too natural.
My phone buzzes again—this time a new name.
LIAM: Hey.
My breath catches.
Why does one word do that?
SAM: Hey.
There's a pause. I imagine him staring at his phone, maybe overthinking, maybe not. Zoe probably shoved the idea at him the same way she did with me.
LIAM: Zoe says you're thinking about it.
I smile despite myself.
SAM: She always knows.
LIAM: Unfortunately.
I laugh quietly.
SAM: You excited?
Another pause. This one feels… careful.
LIAM: Yeah. I think so. The field's kind of our thing.
There it is again. Our. Him and Zoe.
I shouldn't feel that small twist in my chest—but I do.
SAM: Oh. Right.
Three dots appear. Stop. Appear again.
LIAM: But it'll be different with you there.
My heart skips.
Before I can respond, Zoe jumps back in.
ZOE: LOOK AT YOU TWO BEING POLITE.
I groan, dropping my face into my pillow.
SAM: Zoe.
LIAM: She's insufferable.
ZOE: And you love me.
LIAM: I tolerate you.
ZOE: Same thing.
I smile, watching them banter so easily. It's obvious they've done this a hundred times before. Comfortable. Familiar.
Where do I fit into that?
I'm still staring at the screen when it happens.
Soft. Almost like a thought that isn't mine.
Go.
My breath catches.
The Voice.
It isn't loud. It never is. Just a whisper, warm and certain, brushing against my thoughts like a breeze through leaves.
I close my eyes.
"Why?" I murmur under my breath.
No answer.
Just the feeling—gentle, insistent.
Go.
I open my eyes and type before I can overthink it.
SAM: Okay. I'll come.
My heart is racing now.
ZOE: YES. I'll pick you up in twenty.
LIAM: Cool. See you soon.
I stare at the messages, my pulse still loud in my ears.
I don't know why this feels important.
But it does.
Liam's POV
The field has always felt like home.
Even when everything else changed—schools, people, family—the field stayed the same. Zoe and I used to sneak out here when we were kids, lying in the grass, pointing out constellations we half-remembered, half-made up.
I'm standing at the edge of it now, hands shoved into my hoodie pockets, staring up at the sky. The stars are sharp tonight, scattered like someone spilled light across black glass.
My phone buzzes.
Zoe again.
ZOE: She said yes.
I smile without realizing it.
LIAM: Told you.
ZOE: You didn't tell me anything. You just said "okay" like a robot.
LIAM: I'm emotionally complex.
ZOE: Sure you are.
I pocket my phone and lie back in the grass, arms folded behind my head. The night air is cool, grounding.
Sam's laugh drifts back into my mind.
I've known Zoe my whole life. I know her laughter in every form—annoying, genuine, mischievous. But Sam's laugh… that was new. Unexpected. Like discovering a song you didn't know you needed.
I hear the car before I see it.
Zoe's.
I sit up slowly.
The headlights sweep across the field, then cut off. Doors open. Voices carry through the dark.
Zoe hops out first, loud as ever. "I brought snacks and emotional support!"
Sam steps out next.
She looks around like she's stepping into something unfamiliar, her jacket pulled a little tighter around her shoulders. The starlight catches in her eyes, and for a moment, she just stands there, quiet and still.
Something in my chest shifts.
"Hey," I say, walking toward them.
She looks at me and smiles softly. "Hey."
Zoe grins between us. "Okay, rule number one: no brooding. Rule number two: no staring."
I scoff. "I'm not staring."
Sam raises an eyebrow.
Zoe laughs. "See? Already lying."
Sam laughs too—soft, breathy.
And just like that, the field feels different.
Not just mine anymore.
Not just Zoe's.
Ours.
Sam's POV
The grass is colder than I expect when I sit down.
I tuck my legs under me, hugging my jacket closer as Zoe immediately drops onto the ground like she owns the night itself. She stretches out dramatically, arms wide, hair fanning into the grass.
"Ahhh," she sighs. "Tell me this isn't therapy."
"It's dirt," Liam says, sitting beside her. "You're lying in dirt."
"Nature's therapy," Zoe corrects. "Very affordable."
I smile, easing down beside them, my shoulder brushing Liam's for half a second before I realize what I'm doing and subtly shift away.
He doesn't move.
Above us, the sky feels endless. No city lights. No noise. Just stars—too many to count, too bright to ignore.
Zoe props herself up on her elbows. "Okay. Stargazing rules. Rule one: everything I say is correct."
Liam snorts. "That's not how rules work."
"That bright one?" Zoe points vaguely upward. "That's Orion."
"That's not Orion," Liam says instantly.
I blink. "Isn't Orion three stars in a line?"
"Yes," Liam says, nodding. "That's the belt."
Zoe waves her hand. "Details."
"That's Venus," Liam adds, pointing. "You're calling a planet a constellation."
Zoe gasps dramatically. "Wow. Betrayed by my own childhood best friend."
I glance at Liam. "You two have done this before."
"Every time," he says.
"Since we were like ten," Zoe adds. "He's always correcting me."
"Because you're always wrong."
"I'm artistically wrong."
I laugh softly, watching them. It's easy, the way they move around each other—like muscle memory. Comfortable. Familiar.
There's no jealousy in me. Not really.
Just… awareness.
Zoe leans closer to me. "So, Sam. First official field experience. Thoughts?"
I tilt my head back, staring up. "It's… quiet. In a good way."
Liam hums in agreement. "That's why we came here as kids. No expectations. Just… sky."
Zoe smirks. "And because we were avoiding homework."
"That too," Liam admits.
She suddenly sits up straighter. "Oh! That cluster right there—see it?"
She points enthusiastically.
I squint. "Which one?"
"That little smudge of stars? That's the—uh—" She pauses, then snaps her fingers. "The Little Spoon."
Liam groans. "That's not—"
"I named it."
"You can't just rename constellations."
"Watch me."
I laugh again, softer this time, my eyes flicking to Liam.
He's smiling.
Not the guarded one. Not the half-smirk.
A real one.
He notices me looking and quickly looks back at the sky.
Something warm settles in my chest.
Zoe grins like she knows something. "Sam, which one's your favorite?"
I think for a moment. "I don't know names. I just… like the ones that feel like they're listening."
Liam turns his head slightly. "Listening?"
I shrug. "When I was younger, I used to talk to the sky. I thought if I looked long enough, it'd answer."
Zoe softens. "That's kind of beautiful."
Liam says nothing—but he doesn't look away from me.
Instead, he asks quietly, "Did it ever answer?"
I hesitate.
"Sometimes," I say carefully.
Zoe claps her hands suddenly. "Okay! Snacks!"
She scrambles to her feet, dusting off her jeans. "I left them in the car. And I might need to make a Very Important Call."
Liam raises an eyebrow. "At eleven at night?"
"Very," she says seriously. Then she winks—at him, at me, at the night itself—and jogs toward the car.
The sound of her footsteps fades.
I don't realize how quiet it's gotten until it's just… us.
Liam's POV
The silence isn't awkward.
That surprises me.
Usually, silence presses. Makes me feel like I need to fill it. But here, with Sam beside me and the stars above us, it just… exists.
She hugs her knees, eyes fixed on the sky.
"So," I say, gently. "She does that on purpose, you know."
"Zoe?" Sam asks.
"Yeah. The constellation thing."
Sam smiles. "I figured."
"She likes watching people react."
"I think she likes watching you react."
I huff out a quiet laugh. "Probably."
Another pause.
Then, softer, "You okay?"
She glances at me. "Yeah. Just… thinking."
"Dangerous," I tease lightly.
She smiles. "For you too."
I blink, then laugh—genuine, surprised. "Fair."
She looks pleased by that.
"I didn't know you liked stars," she says.
"I didn't know I did either," I admit. "They just… make things feel smaller. In a good way."
She nods. "Yeah."
We lie back fully now, shoulders almost touching. Not quite.
Almost feels intentional.
"Zoe talks a lot about you," Sam says suddenly.
I turn my head. "Good or bad?"
"Both," she says, smiling. "Mostly good."
"She exaggerates."
"She said you used to protect her a lot."
I chuckle. "She was reckless."
"She still is."
"That's her charm."
Sam laughs softly.
I glance at her. "She likes you."
"I like her too," Sam says. "She makes it easier… being new."
There it is.
New.
I forget sometimes that she hasn't known us forever. That she stepped into something already formed.
"Well," I say, careful. "She's not easy on people she doesn't like."
"That's comforting," Sam says.
The stars feel brighter somehow.
"You ever feel like moments like this don't last long enough?" she asks.
"All the time."
She exhales slowly. "I wish I could keep them."
I think of her notebook. The poetry.
"Maybe you do," I say. "In your own way."
She looks at me, eyes searching.
"Yeah," she says quietly. "Maybe."
From the distance, Zoe's voice carries. "WHY IS NOBODY ANSWERING THEIR PHONES—"
Sam laughs.
And just like that, the night shifts again.
But something stays.
Sam's POV
Zoe returns with snacks and chaos, plopping back down between us like nothing happened.
But everything has.
I feel it in the way Liam doesn't pull away now.
In the way I don't either.
Three under the same sky.
And somehow, not the same as before.
Zoe eventually gets tired.
She always does.
One minute she's animated, arguing with Liam about whether snacks taste better under the stars, and the next she's lying flat on her back, quiet for once, staring upward like she's finally run out of words.
"I could fall asleep here," she murmurs.
"Please don't," Liam says. "You snore."
"I do not."
"You absolutely do."
I smile into my sleeve.
Minutes pass. Maybe more. The air cools further, the grass damp beneath us. Zoe's breathing evens out—not asleep, but close enough that she stops filling the silence.
And somehow, without planning it, Liam and I shift again.
Not closer.
Just… aligned.
We lie side by side, our shoulders nearly touching, eyes trained on the same stretch of sky.
Silence settles.
Not awkward.
Not heavy.
Just… full.
"I like this," I say quietly.
Liam doesn't answer right away.
Then, "Yeah. Me too."
Another pause.
"What do you hear," I ask, "when everything's quiet?"
He turns his head slightly. "That's a weird question."
"I know."
He thinks anyway.
"Nothing," he says at first. Then he exhales. "And everything."
I smile. "That makes sense."
"It does?"
"Yeah."
We lapse into silence again.
The stars don't move. Or maybe they do, slowly enough that it feels like they're waiting for us.
"I used to think silence meant something was wrong," I admit.
Liam hums. "Me too."
"But now," I continue, "it feels like… space. Like breathing room."
"Like permission," he says.
I turn my head to look at him.
He's staring upward, jaw relaxed, eyes reflecting starlight.
"Yeah," I whisper. "Like permission."
He glances at me, surprised, then looks back at the sky.
"What's your favorite memory?" he asks suddenly.
"From when I was a kid?"
"Yeah."
I think about it.
"There was this one night," I say slowly, "before everything… before the fire. The power went out. No lights. No phones. Just candles."
Liam listens. I can feel it.
"My aunts let me stay up late," I continue. "We sat on the roof and counted stars. Aunt Luna said every star was a wish that hadn't decided what it wanted to be yet."
"That's… really nice."
"I believed her," I say. "I still kind of do."
He smiles faintly. "I think I'd like your aunts."
"They'd interrogate you," I say dryly.
He chuckles. "Worth it."
"What about you?" I ask. "Favorite memory."
He goes quiet.
I don't rush him.
"When I was little," he begins, "my mom used to wake me up at night. Not often. Just sometimes."
"For what?"
"So we could sit outside," he says. "On the porch. She said night-time made the world honest."
I swallow.
"She'd point out stars," he continues. "Tell me stories about them. Made-up ones. About warriors and travelers and people who got lost and found their way back."
"That sounds…" I trail off.
"Safe," he finishes.
"Yeah."
He shifts slightly. "After she got sick, nights were the only time she didn't look tired."
I don't know what to say.
So I don't say anything.
I let the silence hold it.
Liam's POV
I didn't plan on saying that.
It just… slipped out.
Sam doesn't interrupt. Doesn't ask questions that feel like pressure. She just listens, like she's holding the words carefully, making sure none of them break.
That's rare.
"I used to think if I stayed awake long enough," I admit, "she'd come sit with me again."
Sam's voice is soft. "Did it help?"
"Sometimes."
I glance at her. "Why stars?"
She blinks. "What?"
"Why do you like them so much?"
She considers. "They don't ask anything of you."
I nod.
"They just… exist," she continues. "Even when everything else changes."
That hits something in my chest.
"You ever write about them?" I ask.
She hesitates.
Then, quietly, "I write about a lot of things."
I don't push.
"I write poetry," she adds, after a moment.
I turn fully toward her. "Really?"
She nods, cheeks warming. "It's not very good."
"I doubt that."
She smiles a little. "You haven't read it."
"I don't have to."
That earns me a look. "That's not how opinions work."
"I'm trusting my instincts."
She laughs softly. "Dangerous."
"Consistently," I agree.
Another pause.
"You don't have to share it," I say, careful. "I just… like knowing."
She exhales, relieved. "Thank you."
We lie back again, staring up.
The stars feel closer now.
Sam's POV
The Voice comes gently.
Not loud. Not urgent.
Just a whisper, like it's afraid to interrupt.
This moment matters.
I close my eyes briefly.
When I open them, Liam is still there. Still real.
Still listening.
"I'm glad you came tonight," he says.
"So am I."
We don't say anything else.
And somehow, that says everything.
The silence after his last words doesn't feel empty.
It feels… full. Like something is hovering between us, waiting for one wrong breath to fall apart.
The stars above seem closer now, or maybe I'm just more aware of them. Of everything.
I sit up slowly, drawing my knees to my chest.
Liam notices immediately.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah," I say. Then, after a second, "I just—sometimes lying down makes my thoughts too loud."
He nods, understanding without asking more.
We sit there, side by side, staring into the dark stretch of the field. The air feels heavier than before, like the night itself is leaning in.
"Can I tell you something?" I ask.
Liam turns toward me. "You don't have to ask."
I swallow.
"I don't usually say my thoughts out loud," I say. "I write them. Or I keep them locked away."
He waits.
"So this might sound strange."
"I won't laugh," he says immediately.
That makes my chest tighten.
"I know," I whisper.
The words come before I can second-guess myself.
"I once wrote—no," I correct, shaking my head. "I once thought that stars are just proof that light survives distance."
Liam freezes.
I rush on, suddenly nervous. "I mean—like, even when something is far away, or gone, or feels unreachable, the light still makes it to you. Eventually."
He doesn't speak.
His silence feels different this time—sharper.
"Does that make sense?" I ask quietly.
He exhales slowly. "It does."
He looks at me now, really looks at me, like he's seeing something he didn't expect.
"That… hit harder than I thought it would," he admits.
I shrug, trying to downplay it. "It's just a thought."
"No," he says. "It's not."
His voice is steady, but there's something under it I can't name.
"Why don't you ever say things like that out loud?" he asks.
I hesitate.
"Because when you say things," I answer, "people can hear them. And when people hear things, they can misunderstand them. Or take them away."
He nods slowly.
"You hide a lot," he says, not accusing. Just observing.
I glance at him. "So do you."
He lets out a quiet breath. "Fair."
The stars flicker above us, indifferent and endless.
"Why do you push people away?" I ask before I can stop myself.
He stiffens slightly.
"Is that what you think I'm doing?" he asks.
"I think," I say carefully, "that you protect yourself by pretending you don't care."
He's quiet for a long moment.
Then, "Sometimes pretending feels easier than hoping."
That lands deep.
Liam's POV
I didn't expect her to ask that.
But once she does, there's no pretending anymore.
I stare at the ground, at the faint outline of grass beneath the moonlight.
"People leave," I say simply.
Sam doesn't interrupt.
"So I learned how to make it easier when they do."
She shifts closer—not touching, just nearer.
"That sounds lonely," she says.
"It is," I admit.
I finally look at her.
"And you?" I ask. "Why do you hide behind notebooks and silence?"
She smiles faintly. "Because feelings are easier when they belong to paper."
"That's not an answer."
She sighs. "Because if I don't say them out loud, they can't hurt anyone."
My chest tightens.
"You think your feelings are dangerous?" I ask.
She looks down. "I think they're… strong."
I don't know what to say to that.
The space between us feels charged now, like one more honest sentence could change something permanently.
"Sam," I say quietly.
She looks up.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
We're close enough now that I can see the reflection of stars in her eyes.
Not close enough to touch.
Too close to ignore.
"I think—" I start.
She inhales sharply. "Liam, I—"
We stop at the same time.
Almost smiling at how close we came to saying too much.
Almost.
The sound of footsteps breaks the moment.
Sam's POV
Zoe's voice cuts through the night like a spark.
"Okay, I am BACK—and I have snacks, regrets, and absolutely no patience left."
She plops down between us, completely oblivious.
I lean back instinctively, heart racing.
Liam clears his throat.
Zoe squints between us. "Wow. Did I miss something?"
"No," I say too quickly.
"Definitely," Liam says at the same time.
Zoe grins.
The night exhales.
But the words we didn't say stay with us—hanging between the stars.
Zoe doesn't say anything at first.
That's how I know she noticed.
She stands, stretches dramatically like she always does, and announces, "Okay, star people. I'm officially freezing, emotionally fulfilled, and slightly hungry again. Time to go."
Liam gets to his feet, brushing grass from his jeans. He offers me a hand—not thinking, not hesitating.
I take it.
It's brief. Easy. Gone before it can mean too much.
But my heart doesn't know that.
We start walking back toward the road, the field behind us slowly dissolving into shadow. Zoe walks ahead, swinging her bag, humming something tuneless.
She glances back once.
Her eyes flick from Liam to me.
Then she smiles.
Not teasing. Not smug.
Just… knowing.
She slows her pace, giving us space without announcing it.
I walk beside Liam, close enough that our sleeves brush now and then.
"So," Zoe says casually, "what's the verdict? Stars good? Therapy successful?"
"Five stars," Liam replies. "Pun intended."
She groans. "Never change."
"I won't," he says.
I laugh softly.
The sound feels different now—less guarded.
Zoe stretches her arms above her head. "You know, I used to think stars were boring."
Liam scoffs. "You still don't know half their names."
"Exactly," she says. "Mystery."
She turns back around. "You two are quiet."
I stiffen slightly.
"Just tired," I say.
"Mhm." She nods, unconvinced but not pushing. "Silence can be nice."
I glance at Liam.
He nods once. "Yeah."
The road crunches softly beneath our shoes. Streetlights appear in the distance, faint and yellow, pulling us back toward reality.
I don't want the night to end.
Liam's POV
The field is behind us, but I can still feel it.
The quiet. The honesty.
Sam walks beside me, hands tucked into her sleeves, eyes forward but unfocused—like she's still half looking at the stars.
Zoe walks ahead, deliberately not listening.
I appreciate her for that.
"So," Sam says after a moment, "thanks for coming tonight."
I blink. "You didn't invite me."
She smiles faintly. "Still."
"I'm glad I came," I say.
That feels important to say.
She nods, like she understands.
Zoe suddenly spins around, walking backward. "Okay, real question. If you could keep one moment forever, would you?"
Sam thinks. "Yes."
I answer at the same time. "No."
Zoe stops walking. "Wow. Dramatic contrast."
Sam looks at me. "Why not?"
I hesitate. "Because if you freeze it, it stops growing."
She considers that. "I think I'd keep it… but let it breathe."
Zoe claps. "Poetic. See? This is why I keep you around."
Sam laughs, and I feel something settle in my chest again.
We reach the edge of the road. Zoe points toward the parking area. "I'm grabbing my ride. You two walking this way?"
"Yeah," I say.
She nods, then pauses.
Her gaze sharpens just slightly. "You good?"
Sam nods. "Yeah."
Zoe smiles. "Good."
Then she's gone, footsteps retreating, leaving us alone again—but this time, it doesn't feel heavy.
Just… quiet.
Sam's POV
We walk a little farther, neither of us in a hurry to say goodbye.
The streetlights cast long shadows. My thoughts feel slower now, calmer.
"I don't usually talk that much," I say.
He glances at me. "I noticed."
"That's not—" I stop myself, then smile. "I mean… I don't usually feel like it's safe to."
He nods. "I get that."
We stop at the corner.
This is it.
I don't want to rush it.
"Tonight was… nice," I say.
He hesitates, then says, "Your voice sounds different when you're not holding back."
I look at him, surprised.
"Different how?"
"Clearer," he says. "Like… it belongs in the quiet."
My throat tightens.
"I'll remember that," I say softly.
He nods once. "Me too."
A pause.
Not awkward.
Just full.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask.
"Yeah," he says. "Tomorrow."
We don't hug.
We don't reach for each other.
We just stand there for a moment longer than necessary, letting the night settle into memory.
Then he steps back.
"Goodnight, Sam."
"Goodnight, Liam."
He walks away.
I watch until he turns the corner.
Later That Night-
My room feels smaller after the sky.
I sit on my bed, notebook open, pen hovering.
The words come easily.
Not fast.
But true.
I write about light crossing distance. About silence that listens back. About moments that don't need names to matter.
The Voice comes gently, like a breath near my ear.
You're getting closer.
I smile.
I close the notebook.
Outside, somewhere beyond my window, the stars are still there.
And they keep our secret.