North Star by Angeline M. Bishop

really don’t want a relationship, but you can’t let events with an old flame color my chances with you.”
    “I hardly know you.”
    “Then get to know me. Ask me something, anything you want. We have all night.” Graham turned off the lantern and shut off the flashlight. He removed his socks and slacks and laid on the bunk beneath her in his boxers.
    “Are you serious?”
    “Very. Ask me anything you want. Then you can tell me why you’d rather drive home in a storm, instead of staying here with me.”
    She thought back to Graham’s face after they had kissed in the living room. When she abruptly pulled away from him and dashed for the door, his demeanor had hardened. But the intense emotions he’d stirred in her were overwhelming and made it hard to think straight. She began to wonder if her infatuation could turn into something meaningful, but she knew, deep down, she wasn’t ready to get involved.
    “Tell me all about you,” she whispered in the darkness.
    Graham talked about his parents and his childhood with four siblings. She asked him whatever came to her mind: his likes and dislikes, his dreams and aspirations. And before she knew it, their superficial talk gradually deepened into an intimate conversation. Eventually he revealed his longing to smell a home-cooked meal pouring from his kitchen and to hear a woman’s tender voice whispering in his ear in the middle of the day.
    Caresse listened carefully, preferring to ask questions, than to reveal answers. But when Graham told her he wanted to make love to a woman who wouldn’t hold herself back, she stopped him.
    “Men don’t cherish a woman totally giving herself,” Caresse breathed. “If anything, most men take such a gift and turn it into their entitlement.”
    “You’re wrong. My parents taught me real love is a giving relationship. I’m not saying they didn’t have their arguments, but they made it work. I believe the woman for me is out there.”
    Caresse leaned over the rail and stared down at him. “If she is, then maybe the boy I once prayed for is out there, too.”
    “What boy?”
    “When I was nine, I decided to pray for a boyfriend that wasn’t afraid of jumping makeshift ramps made of concrete bricks and wooden boards. I wanted a boy that could climb trees to the very top and one who would love science experiments. I told myself I needed a boy that had so many matchbox cars that he would have them stored in a special collector’s case. I guess I was praying for a boy who really cared about the things he possessed...so that he would cherish me the same way.”
    “Stop, you’re making my chest hurt.”
    “Why?”
    “I was that type of boy.”
    “Yeah, right, I’m so sure you were.”
    “I’m not lying. I use to do all those types of things. In fact, my mother feared I would set the house on fire with my experiments.”
    Caresse laid back down and contemplated the irony. “We better get some sleep.” She yawned. “It’s getting late.”
    “Okay. But you didn’t give me my goodnight kiss.”
    She made a kissing sound and blew a kiss in the air. “Goodnight, Graham.”
    “Goodnight, Caresse.”

    An hour later, the only sound in the room was the pounding of the rain on the windows. Graham laid in the darkness and thought about the things he had shared with her. He wondered if he had provided too much insight into the type of man he was. He couldn’t help it, but what plagued him was figuring out if she would ever let him in.
    Graham heard a change in her breathing and knew she was sleeping now. But the restless shifting told him she wasn’t comfortable. Graham started to ask Caresse if she wanted to sleep on the floor with him when something fell out of her bed.
    He picked up the soft garment. It was his jersey. He pulled it to his nose and smelled her perfume lingering on it. He stood up and peered over the rail into her bed. In the moonlight, she appeared to be naked. She was sleeping on her stomach with her