“And here I thought that stew you made for dinner was the whole reason we came out here.” She grinned up at the sky, enjoying the drop in temperature. Imaad had warned her it would get cool at night, but their tent was loaded up with blankets and even separate mattresses.
“The stew I reheated,” he clarified. “A very talented chef named Padideh made that stew.”
She laughed, stretching her legs out over the sand. It still burned a little in the waning heat, as if it had been super-packed with warmth through the long desert day. The sky blazed before them, a spectacular display of colors illuminating the scorched, salty earth. The dry salt flats had crusted patterns in them, geometrical designs like puzzle pieces carved from the salt.
“This place is amazing.”
“I thought you might like it.” Imaad scooped sand into his hand and then let it fall through his fingers, gaze fixed on the sky. “I like to come out here when I can. When I’m able to get away.”
“You work a lot for your father.” She meant it as a question, but it came out as a statement.
“Too much. I’m the youngest, so…”
His words left question marks hanging in the air. “So?”
He dragged a fingertip through the sand, drawing something known only to him. “So I have to work the hardest to be recognized.”
As the sun sank below the horizon, tiny dots of stars followed in its wake.
“I’m the only child,” she offered after a long stretch of silence. “But my father has never recognized me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was a love child,” she said, trying to make it sound light. “My parents never married. My father was in my life, but only when it suited him. I’m here because I’m his only blood relative and it’s something he needs for his business, not because he’s any sort of father to me.”
“Surely he recognizes you,” Imaad said softly.
“Not in the way you might hope.”
A few moments passed before Imaad spoke again. “Looks like both our fathers use us as they see fit, then.”
“You’ve got that right.” Annabelle hugged her knees to her chest. It might be the only thing they had in common.
Darkness descended around them, stealthily fast, until night predominated, and the only remnant of the sunset was a distant burning strip at the edge of the Earth. When it faded, Imaad took a deep breath, tilting his head back up at the sky.
“This is dessert,” he said. She tilted her head back to look and gasped. The sky was crammed with sparkling dots, so many stars that Annabelle got dizzy when she stared for too long. She blinked, searching out the horizon, looking for the grounding reference point of the tent.
“Holy shit. I’ve never seen so many stars before.”
“Lie back.” He leaned back onto the sand, resting his hands on his low belly. She did the same, gasping again as she took it all in.
“Fuck,” was all she could say.
In the quiet between them, the immensity of the sky bore down on her, made her feel breathless and exhilarated and excruciatingly small.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier,” she blurted. The words had burbled up out of nowhere. She turned to look at him, using the dim outline of his body as her grounding rod. “This is a weird situation. I know it’s just as hard for you as for me.”
Imaad pushed up onto an elbow and looked down at her. Her whole body prickled with expectation, the heat of him pouring over her in waves despite the now-chilly air. Once her eyes adjusted, she could see the sincerity on his face.
“It’s not that hard,” he said softly, his fingers tracing invisible patterns in the sand next to her. “Not right now.”
She grinned. “Yeah. Looking at the unfathomable universe isn’t so hard.”
“No, I mean, with you.” His fingertips danced feather-light over her forearm, and her whole body lit up like a firework. He was hitting on her.
Her pussy clenched with excitement. “So, you mean not being a raging bitch makes things easier?”
He laughed, his fingertips dragging up her bicep, up over the curve of her shoulder. She shivered.