#Starstruck

by Sariah Wilson

  Monday. The day Lexi and I would be on the set of his new movie. It was one of those ensemble superhero movies, a franchise where Chase would play a new hero. Dr. Super Captain something.

  “Something important happening on your phone?” Noah asked, giving me a pointed look. I immediately felt guilty. My grandma had been big into not being rude. I should have been giving Noah my full attention.

  But all I could think about was Chase and his tweets.

  I placed my phone in my purse, putting the temptation away. “Not really. Just . . . nothing.”

  “I thought maybe I was boring you.” Noah folded his arms against his chest and seemed a little angry. “Or that you’d prefer to be somewhere else.”

  “No!” My throat felt tight, the guilt over his anger making me anxious. I picked up my fork and pushed the food still on my plate, my stomach too upset to eat anything else. I couldn’t make eye contact with him. “Of course not.”

  A long, tense silence passed between us as my mind went completely blank. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I sneaked a glance at him, and his lips were pressed tightly together. Like I’d failed some kind of test and disappointed him.

  The quiet went on for so long that I felt sweat dripping down my lower back. “You go to UCLA, right?”

  “Yes.”

  I was about to ask him what his major was, but I already knew. Accounting. Like me. My thoughts scattered as I tried to talk to him, and I asked him more questions I already knew the answers to. Like, “Do you still live at home?” and “How long have you been at the Foundation?”

  We even veered into, “So, how about those Dodgers?” And I didn’t watch baseball.

  My introverted weirdness had reared its ugly head, and it was like Noah decided he wasn’t into it or my pathetic attempt at making conversation. He didn’t ask me anything, and his responses were as brief and of as few syllables as possible. Which made me more nervous and awkward and sweaty. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so completely self-conscious and uneasy. I’d never been so relieved to get the check. I offered to split it, and he didn’t say anything as he took my debit card and slid it into the little leather folder.

  Noah drove me back to my car at the Foundation in total silence and mumbled good night. His tires squealed as he sped off, not even waiting for me to get safely inside.

  As I unlocked my front door, I decided to not dwell on yet another total social failure. Instead, I thought about Chase’s tweets and put Noah out of my mind. I considered showing the tweets to Lexi. I wanted her opinion. But on the other hand, I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. If I had built something up in my mind that was not even a little bit based in reality, I couldn’t bear her pity.

  My decision was made for me when I arrived home and found Gavin and Lexi cuddling on the couch, studying. Maybe I’d show her later.

  “Where have you been?” Lexi asked, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

  I set my purse down on the counter and threw my keys into the ceramic bowl. “I think I was on a date.” Or being tortured in my own personal hell. One or the other.

  That got my best friend’s full attention. “With who?”

  “Noah.”

  She put her book down and turned to face me. “That guy from the Foundation you think is cute?”

  “That’s the one.” I went over to the fridge and pulled out a bottled water.

  “And you didn’t come home to change and get gorgeous first?” She said this like it was some kind of personal affront to her.

  I sat in the armchair across from her, the one we’d found at a flea market for ten dollars. “According to my women’s studies class, I’m not supposed to get dressed up to please a man. Where’s your feminism?”

  “You mean that thing that murdered romance?” she retorted.

  “Says the girl with a bouquet of red roses from her boyfriend on the counter.”

  That earned me a warm smile from Gavin. He was super romantic, and Lexi adored being treated so well. It was another point in the pro-Gavin column. Not only did he treat my best friend the way she deserved to be treated, but he had also made a real effort to become my friend. He didn’t take my introversion personally (like some other guys, coughNoahcough, seemed to). He didn’t think something was wrong with me or that I needed to step out of my “comfort zone.” He just accepted me as I was and went out of his way to make me comfortable with him.

  Lexi folded her arms. “It’s not about pleasing him. It’s about feeling good about yourself.”

  I felt good about myself in that moment, but it had absolutely nothing to do with Noah. I took a swig of water.

  “Although if he chooses to enjoy your visual confidence, all the better for you. By the way, where are my details? Did he at least kiss you?”

  Gulping down the water in my mouth, I shook my head. “Nope. Just dropped me off at my car.” And drove off like his tires were on fire.

  “What kind of date is that?”

  “I don’t know if it was a date.”

  Lexi narrowed her eyebrows at me. “Did you talk only about the office?”

  “No.” That was true, but the only time I felt okay was when we did talk about the office. “We talked about other things.” Sort of.

  I didn’t want to tell her how weird it had gotten because Lexi lived in fear that I would become a spinster cat lady since I never got past a third date. Which was partly due to my social awkwardness and also to the we-wouldn’t-be-sleeping-together thing.

  Sometimes I thought about starting a blog called Things Men Say When I Tell Them I’m Celibate. Such as:

  “I’m not fifteen. I’m not interested in dating like I still am.”

  “Oh. Great. Hey, I gotta go. I just remembered my grandmother’s cat is having emergency surgery tomorrow, and I really want to be there for that.”

  “Thanks for letting me know this isn’t going anywhere.”

  “Are you trying to become a nun?”

  “I can take care of that for you.” (Still makes my skin crawl.)

  “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. This was fun, but I have a term paper due tomorrow that I spaced and have to go finish.” (That guy had already graduated.)

  “I’m not interested in being serious right now. I thought you were down for being casual.”

  “I can respect that.” (He respected it so much he never contacted me again.)

  And so on and so on. Reactions ranged from some combination of fear to being weirded out or being a little too into it. Lexi kept telling me that with the right guy, it would be a nonissue. That if he really liked me, Mr. Perfect would be willing to wait.

  I hoped she was right.

  “Who paid?” Lexi demanded.

  Paid? Oh right. My “date” with Noah. “We split the check.”

  “Did he ask you, or did you ask him?”

  “He asked. Kind of. It wasn’t like a formal invitation, more like, ‘Let’s hang out and keep talking about our insane boss.’”

  “I’m finding for the defendant. I say it was a date,” she concluded, settling back onto the couch. “What do you think, Gavin?”

  That made me blink a couple of times in surprise. I’d never known Lexi to ask one of her many suitors his opinion before. She was more of the informing-them-what-they-should-think type.

  Gavin looked up from his laptop with a thoughtful expression. “I think he’s a wimp. He should have let you know whether or not it was a date and if he was interested. People play too many games. It’s a waste of time. It sounds like he was trying to hedge his bets. It would have been a date if things had ended the way he wanted. It was a work thing if nothing happened. Dude should have manned up.”

  He was a little bit right. Noah had not been straightforward about whether it was a date or just a work thing. I hadn’t helped things with my inattentiveness and subsequent crashing and burning. Maybe even Chase Covington should bear some of the responsibility.

  Tired of the subject
and not wanting to share details that would only disappoint my friend, I asked how their days had been. We chatted for a while longer until I excused myself to my room, giving them some privacy.

  I had a test to study for, a presentation to work on, and a new job to find.

  I didn’t have time to be thinking about another failed date.

  Or about Chase Covington.

  I said goodbye to the Henderson boys. I cried; they didn’t. I stopped by and saw my siblings and played with them for a couple of hours. My mother asked me if I could help her out on Tuesday night because her sitter had canceled due to a family emergency. I told her I would. Then I started my job search. Mrs. Henderson was willing to give me a reference, but all of her ladies-who-lunch friends already had nannies.

  The problem was I needed a lot of flexibility. Over the next few days, I went around to some of the downtown shops, but there weren’t any employers who were interested in hiring me for two or three hours in the middle of the afternoon. They wanted time commitments I couldn’t give them.

  Next thing I knew, it was early Monday morning, and Lexi was dragging me out of bed. “Today’s the day. Let’s go, let’s go!”

  Even though she was caffeine-less, she was like a rabid squirrel on Adderall. Darting all over the place, checking her reflection, running to the closet to look through her clothes, brushing her hair for the ninetieth time.

  Although I wouldn’t have admitted it, I spent a little more time on my appearance than I normally did. Mascara, blush, and lipstick were even involved. A production assistant had called Lexi Sunday night and told us to dress like New York bowlers. We didn’t know what that meant, so we both wore jeans, and I wore a light-gray T-shirt that matched my eyes while Lexi had poured herself into a tight black tank top.

  We pulled up at Daylight Studios and were allowed in after we showed our identification and the guard found us on his list. He told us where we would be filming and directed us to park. Once we found the right area in the parking garage, we started the long trek to Building 20B. There were rows and rows of big beige buildings and people walking around in costumes, talking on their phones, driving in golf carts.

  Lexi still hadn’t managed to calm down. “We’re actually here. Can you believe it? We’re going to be in a movie!”

  I was more interested in seeing Chase in real life. Especially because he’d gone uncharacteristically silent on Twitter all weekend.

  We found the right building but were stopped by a PA (short for production assistant). He sent us to get our hair and makeup done and told us where to go afterward, along with the other extras. The makeup trailer was like an assembly line—people were in and out of their chairs in a matter of minutes. My guess was that a lot more time was spent on the stars. I got some foundation and powder and a darker shade of lipstick than I might normally wear and was told to move along. I waited outside the trailer until Lexi was done, and together we made the short walk to the soundstage.

  It struck me as funny that when you watch a movie or TV show, the actors look like they’re in actual apartments or bedrooms. But there was no ceiling, and one whole wall was missing. It was like a giant one-story dollhouse. There were massive lights, thick black cables, and cameras everywhere. We were directed to a set that looked like a real bowling alley. A director’s assistant explained that in this scene, the superhero, Captain Sparta, would be thrown through a wall and into the back of a bowling alley. A stunt double would be performing that part, but Chase Covington would be filmed getting back on his feet and running out to confront the villain. There were a lot of excited whispers and tittering at that part. The DA told us to be serious and not screw up the shot or else we were done. Lexi was chosen to stand at the front of the lane, as though she was about to bowl, and I was a member of her team, sitting on the bench behind her. We were told to look surprised and scared when Captain Sparta went crashing through the wall.

  Lexi was told that Captain Sparta would nod to her, and her job was to look shocked. She nodded seriously, but I could tell she wanted to squee.

  Wardrobe came in and handed us bowling shirts to wear. Lexi put hers on but didn’t button it and tied the bottom ends together at her waist.

  There was a lot of waiting involved as the lights were set up and conversations were had, and I didn’t know why Lexi wanted to be an actress so badly. It seemed like a lot of boring. My best friend, however, was in her element. She couldn’t stop grinning and preening in her spot. It made me smile. I was happy she was getting the chance to live her dream.

  A loud whisper rumbled through the room, starting at the door of the soundstage and making its way over to us.

  Somebody next to me said over their shoulder, “Chase Covington is here.”

  I heard the DA hiss, “Be professional!”

  He was here.

  It was him.

  Chase freaking Covington.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Captain Sparta’s uniform was a white-and-gold molded bodysuit with a red cape and a Spartan helmet. Chase carried his helmet under his arm and came over to the director to shake hands and presumably say hello.

  My heart was beating so hard in my chest that for a second I couldn’t hear. It was actually him. Lexi was right. He was even better-looking in real life, and I’d already thought him the most incredibly handsome man alive. I looked down and saw that my legs were shaking. I was grateful I was already sitting.

  It was strange seeing him. Up to that point, Chase hadn’t been a real person to me. He was a character in a movie or a faceless entity sending out tweets. It was like it suddenly dawned on me that he was an actual human being. Like me. Or Lexi.

  Obviously way hotter and taller and more amazing than Lexi or me, but still.

  In all those years when we planned on meeting him, my imagined reactions usually involved screaming and jumping up and down, with tears streaming from my face.

  I didn’t feel the urge to do any of those things. Turned out I had some dignity where he was concerned.

  It was a nice thing to discover.

  The director showed Chase where he wanted him to lie down—at the end of the lane where Lexi was bowling.

  “Let’s do a quick run-through,” the director said. Chase got down on the floor, and an assistant came over to hand him his weapons—a long, pointed spear and a battered Grecian round shield.

  “Quiet on the set! Places!” the assistant called out, raising both of his hands. I sat as still as I possibly could, watching Lexi as she held up her bowling ball, poised as if she were about to send it down the lane.

  “Boom! Explosion! Everyone is scared!” the director yelled, and I did my best to react.

  Chase had put his Spartan helmet on, and it covered most of his face. He leaped to his feet. He brushed off some imaginary dust and marched down the lane, stopping when he got to Lexi.

  “Sorry I ruined your score, miss,” he said to Lexi. And there it was, that bone-melting, deep voice that sounded like smoke wrapped in velvet. It made me shudder.

  Where I was falling apart even though he hadn’t been speaking to me, my friend had no problem stepping up to the plate. She put one hand on her hip and with a flirtatious smile said, “If you want to help me score later, call me.”

  There was some loud laughter from the crew, and the director called, “Cut.” We had been told there wouldn’t be any dialogue in this scene.

  Was Lexi going to be fired? Chase had spoken to her first. She had only responded. It would kill her if they made us leave.

  I might also die a little on the inside if I was forced out after I’d finally gotten the chance to ogle Chase in person.

  Okay, I would die a lot.

  The same assistant as before came to collect his spear and shield. Chase took off his helmet, and some strands of sweaty blond hair stuck to his forehead. He was so sexy I couldn’t breathe.

  “Marty doesn’t like it when I ad lib. That’s why I do it only on test shots,” he said to Lexi in a conspirat
orial voice. “Kudos to you for that comeback. Hey, you’re that girl from the radio station, right? Is your friend . . .”

  His voice trailed off, and he turned, looking dead at me. Ignoring Lexi, he walked over and offered me his hand. “You must be Zoe Miller. I’m Chase. Covington.”

  He added on his last name like I wouldn’t know who he was. It was kind of endearing. I stared at his hand until the girl on my right nudged me, and I gave him mine. A zap of raw electricity sparked at his touch, his hand warm and strong and big. It shot up my arm and spread throughout my body, making every part of me tingle.

  “Hi, Chase Covington.” I don’t know how I was able to form words. Or how I hadn’t dissolved into an incoherent, blubbering pile of Zoe goo.

  “Hi, Zoe Miller.”

  We were still shaking hands, which was basically holding hands at this point, as it had gone on so long. He was just grinning at me like I was some long-lost friend he was excited to catch up with.

  I didn’t want to imagine what my slack-jawed, overwhelmed face looked like. He probably thought I was an idiot.

  A guy with dark-brown hair and wearing a Bluetooth device in one ear came over. “Chase, Marty wants a word.”

  Chase finally let go of my hand. “Thanks, One-F. Stick around, Zoe Miller. There’s more to say.” He walked backward a few steps, like he didn’t want to stop looking at me. With a wink, he finally turned and headed toward the director.

  The girl who had nudged me said, “You are the luckiest wench in the entire universe. How did you catch Chase’s eye?”

  I understood she was basically insulting me, but seriously, I had no idea.

  I tried to watch him out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t think I was doing a good job of being subtle. Especially since he kept catching my gaze and smiling at me, like he knew something I didn’t.

  Every cell in my body felt alert and aware, like I was a walking exposed bundle of nerves.

  “Zoe!” Lexi ran up to me, out of breath. “Can you believe it?”