#Starstruck

by Sariah Wilson

  “It must be nice to be part of a big family.”

  “It is,” I agreed. “Although sometimes I feel like a second mother because of the age gap. I mean, if I got married and had kids in the next few years, Zia would be an aunt at a really young age. That part of it is weird. But I adore them.”

  Chase stayed quiet for longer than was normal. “Is that something you think about? Getting married?” Given his tone, it was like he was asking, “Is that something you think about? Committing multiple murders and becoming a serial killer?” Such a stereotypical male reaction to discussing marriage.

  “Not really.” I mean, I had been thinking about it a lot lately, given my current situation with People Magazine’s three-time winner of “Sexiest Man Alive,” but it wasn’t something I had seriously considered. I hadn’t even graduated yet.

  When we got to the ice cream parlor, Chase opened the door for everyone, ushering the kids inside, where their voices echoed loudly. I put my sunglasses on top of my head; Chase left his on. The children gathered around the display case, deciding on flavors. Zelda had to be reminded more than once that chocolate was not an option.

  They finally made their decisions. Zane opted for the Incredible Hulk flavor—mint ice cream with chocolate chips. I decided to get the same.

  “No Captain Sparta flavor?” Chase murmured. “I think I should be offended.”

  I would totally eat that up. But instead of saying so, I just smiled. I noticed he was hanging back, standing behind me. As if he didn’t want anyone in the parlor to know who he was. It seemed to be working, as the girl at the cash register was busy texting on her phone and ignoring us. I asked Chase what he wanted, and he said butter pecan.

  “Ha. I knew your icky movie-star tastes would come out eventually. Your picnic didn’t fool me.”

  “What’s wrong with butter pecan?”

  “Um, everything? Such a waste of good ice cream.” I grabbed my purse and moved to the register to place our order. Chase put his hand on my wrist, preventing me from getting my wallet. He handed me some cash.

  “It’s on me. I’m the one who asked to spend the day with you guys, remember?”

  I kept forgetting this was kind of a date. I knew the girls—er, women—in my women’s studies class would want me to protest. Maybe even get angry and tell him I didn’t need him or the patriarchy paying for me. But I gratefully accepted his kind gesture. “I’ll get it next time.”

  It wasn’t until later that I thought about how presumptuous that must have sounded. Like we were definitely going on another date when he hadn’t indicated he wanted to. I gave him his change after the cashier rang us up. Once she had scooped our cones, Chase suggested we sit on the outdoor patio that overlooked the boardwalk and beach.

  We got everybody situated at the table, and I wrapped the cones for the two youngest kids in enough napkins to soak up an oil spill. Chase seemed completely entertained by how much the kids loved their ice cream.

  “Everybody tell Chase thank you!”

  They all said thanks, including Zia, who said, “Fank you, Cheese” between delicate bites of pink bubblegum ice cream.

  “I think this is a day they’ll always remember,” I told him. I knew it was one I would never forget.

  “What’s your favorite childhood memory?” he asked.

  “Not paying bills,” I immediately responded, which got the laugh I’d been looking for. “What about you?”

  “I always paid the bills. Even when I was a kid. Sometimes I wish I’d had more of a childhood.”

  There was something so inherently sad about his statement that it made my heart ache. And I could relate. “I know it’s not the same, but I didn’t have much of a childhood, either. I was expected to work hard all the time.”

  Zander had already finished his ice cream and let out a loud sigh of boredom as he leaned his head back.

  “He seems a little lost without his tablet,” Chase said softly to me.

  “Right? Like someday I expect to wake up and find that it’s become permanently attached to his hand. I try to get him to go out and do real-life stuff like this. It tends to backfire. Like one night I was feeling inspired, so I told them no devices, no TV. That we were going to play board games.”

  “How did that go?”

  “Let me put it this way—now I understand why all those parents in the 1960s were alcoholics.”

  “Hey!” Zane poked Chase in the side. “What kind of shorts do clouds wear?”

  Chase pondered the question seriously. “I don’t know. What kind of shorts do clouds wear?”

  “Thunderwear!” Zane cracked himself up.

  “I think Thor wears that, too,” Chase added, making Zane laugh harder.

  “Hey, do you guys want to play in the sand while we wait for the girls?” Before I had finished my sentence, my brothers fled the table.

  Zelda had stopped eating her Neapolitan ice cream a while ago, and now it was running in pink, brown, and white rivers down her hand.

  “Why aren’t you eating your ice cream?” Chase asked as he reached for more napkins before everything dripped on her leg. “Did you lose your sweet tooth?”

  “My sweet tooth?” Zelda asked in alarm. “Which tooth is that? Did the Tooth Fairy take it? I want it back!”

  I tried to explain idioms as she grew increasingly frantic, so I settled for reminding her that she hadn’t lost any teeth yet. I got her cleaned up and sent her off to play with the boys.

  As we watched them play, some joggers ran past us on the boardwalk. “I used to love running on the beach. I miss it.”

  Again, I felt a pang of sadness for him that so many things in his life were abnormal.

  “What about you? Do you ever come down here and run?”

  I tried not to laugh. “Not unless I have to chase somebody down.”

  “You don’t like running?”

  “My stepdad used to say running was for criminals and masochists. Lexi used to be really into it, but it was never my thing.”

  He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. It made his shirt lift up slightly, and I forced myself to look at his face. “So basically, if you ever have to run for your life, things aren’t going to end well for you.”

  “Basically.”

  “What kind of exercise do you like?”

  How did you tell somebody whose life revolved around being in the best shape possible that your exercise routine consisted of tossing and turning at night? “Climbing?” I was talking about the three flights of stairs at my apartment but left that part off.

  “What gym do you go to?”

  “I think about going to the gym, but the guy who works the counter at Wendy’s is named Jim, so I figure that’s close enough.”

  It felt like he was looking at me, but I couldn’t tell with the sunglasses. “You’re lucky you have such a fantastic metabolism.”

  My cheeks burned at his implication, and I ducked my head so he wouldn’t see. It was true. I had grown up eating traditional comfort foods laden with butter and cream. I probably should be the size of a baby hippo, given my diet.

  “I guess we can’t have everything in common. That would be boring.” I couldn’t tell from his tone whether he was disappointed by my revelations. Was it a bad thing? A divisive wedge that would come between us, since I would rather have my fingernails ripped out one a time than go running with him in some canyon?

  “We should probably go,” I said. “It’s getting late.” The sun was setting, and the winds had picked up. I was glad I had packed hoodies for everyone.

  I hadn’t, however, packed anything for me. I started shivering as we walked back to our blanket. We had left everything on the beach despite Chase’s conviction that we shouldn’t. I told him that at a different beach I would have packed it all up, but in Marabella I always felt safe and didn’t worry about stuff getting stolen. Sure enough, we found everything just as we had left it.

  Chase rummaged around inside his b
ag and pulled out something dark blue and fuzzy. “Here. You can use my sweater.”

  I was too cold to protest, and we still needed to get the children and all their equipment in the car. I put it on, and it was the softest material I had ever felt. Like it had been collected from the bellies of baby Angora bunnies raised on organic carrots who had slept on cotton balls.

  And it smelled like him. I wondered how weird it would be if I took it home and draped it over my pillow so I could be surrounded by his delicious scent all night.

  Next thing I knew, we were home, taking everything out of the minivan. I told the weary kids to go inside, instructing the boys to take showers and the girls to wait for me so I could give them a bath.

  Chase waited for me out front, but I needed him to leave. Not only so I could take care of my siblings, but also because even though my mother wouldn’t be home for at least two hours, sometimes they sent her home early on Saturday shifts, and I couldn’t run the risk of her seeing Chase Covington on our porch.

  He had removed his glasses and hat, and he had that intense, hungry look in his eyes. I folded my arms, loving the feel of his sweater against my skin.

  I would probably like the feel of him even more.

  “So thank you for today,” I said, finally finding my voice. “This was amazing.”

  “You’re welcome. I really enjoyed it.” For real? Was he just being polite? Was it acting? “And thank you.”

  “For what?”

  I suddenly flashed to the part in his most recent rom-com where he thanked his love interest after a date. When she’d asked why, he said, “For the kiss.” Only he’d never kissed her.

  And when she’d started to say as much, he’d laid a kiss on her so hot that I had fanned my face the first time I saw it.

  I’d heard people talking about feeling butterflies, but I hadn’t understood that statement until right this second. Because I felt this flapping, fluttering sensation, not only in my stomach but also everywhere else. Like every internal cell had turned into a butterfly, fluttery with excitement and anticipation. The atmosphere between us felt thick, charged.

  Only this wasn’t a movie, and he didn’t try to kiss me. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and his fingers lingered on the side of my head for a moment, leaving a burning imprint. “Thank you for having no ulterior motive for hanging out with me. For being the first person I’ve ever met who didn’t want something from me. See you tomorrow.”

  I echoed, “See you tomorrow,” as he walked off the porch to his rental. I stood there, frozen, as he drove away. I didn’t even wave.

  Because the butterflies had been replaced by gross, slimy guilt worms that wriggled around inside me. I thought of Stephanie and how I had intended to ask Chase to help with the benefit.

  How that would make me just another person who wanted something from him.

  I hadn’t told anyone. There was no way he could find out, right?

  As long as I kept my mouth shut, everything should be fine.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Last night when I got back to my apartment, it had occurred to me that I’d been so focused on Chase finding out about the fund-raiser that I had sort of blocked out the whole “Hey, Chase, guess what’s completely off the table between us?” conversation.

  And if he was the kind of guy who would bail over it, I needed to know. No more playing house or living in a fantasy. I had to face it.

  Because it would be better to find out now before he so completely enchanted my heart that it would devastate me to lose him.

  Again, I spent more time than I normally would getting ready to go to Chase’s house. I finished putting on mascara and gave my reflection a last once-over. He had asked me why I didn’t think I was beautiful. There was the traumatic stuff, but I just didn’t think of myself that way. Men had found me attractive enough to ask out, but to be honest, there was always insecurity involved when you had a friend like Lexi. She was the hot one whom all the guys drooled over, and I was the smart one. Like we each had roles to play, and I’d spent so much time in her shadow that it hadn’t occurred to me that I could be pretty and she could have brains, too.

  In our tiny living room, Lexi and Gavin were cuddled together watching one of Chase’s movies. It was based on a postapocalyptic YA novel about how the earth had turned into a giant desert and Chase’s character had the magical ability to detect water. Dumb as it sounded, he was much better in that one than in Octavius.

  “Somebody’s all dressed up!” Lexi noticed, giving me a satisfied grin. “Off to see your man?”

  I’d left Chase’s sweater on the coffee table so I wouldn’t forget to return it to him. I picked it up. “He’s not my man. We’re not dating.”

  “Yet. You’re headed down the road to Relationship City.”

  “It’s more of a flirtationship.”

  “Do you at least know if his intentions are honorable?” Gavin asked, pausing the movie.

  Lexi giggled. I rolled my eyes. “We’re hanging out. Not discovering Plymouth Rock.”

  I had started stroking the soft fabric of Chase’s sweater, not realizing I was doing so. Lexi pointedly looked at my hands, and I stopped. “It’s just really soft. Although I don’t know what it’s made out of.” As if that would explain my anxiety.

  “I do. Boyfriend material.” She waggled her eyebrows at me, but I didn’t laugh. “You’re nervous.”

  “He makes me nervous,” I confessed.

  “You should feel that way in the beginning. It’s exciting and scary to fall for someone. I always say when you first start dating someone, he should be like a cappuccino. Hot and sweet, and he makes you all jittery.”

  “Did I make you jittery?” Gavin asked.

  “Obviously. Still do sometimes,” she said, and they both smiled. Their smiles faded, and their expressions changed, like they were about to ravage each other.

  I cleared my throat. “Okay. So I’m going to go.”

  “Before you do”—Lexi broke eye contact with Gavin long enough to look at me—“don’t give up on him once you get past the honeymoon phase.”

  “Honeymoon phase?” I repeated, not sure what she meant.

  “Everyone is amazing and wonderful when you first start dating, but nobody can keep up the pretense forever. Eventually he’ll show his true colors. Everybody has skeletons in the closet.”

  I told her I would keep an open mind and said goodbye. As I headed to my car, I wondered how true Lexi’s statement was. Because so far, Chase had been kind of perfect. He was thoughtful, considerate, and kind. Charming and funny. And the handsomest man I’d ever met in real life.

  But I had skeletons in my closet. And personality defects. I was human, after all.

  Chase was a movie star and had grown up in a completely different environment from me. He didn’t just have skeletons in his closet. There were probably T. rex–size fossils in there. We would have to decide if we could deal with each other’s shortcomings.

  I’d offer to show him mine if he showed me his.

  Um, I probably needed to think of a different way to phrase that before I saw him.

  “Come in!” For some reason it surprised me that Chase answered his own door. Like, what was the point of being that wealthy if you couldn’t have somebody else answering your door and fighting off solicitors?

  “Here’s your sweater. Thanks for lending it to me.” I decided not to tell him that I’d seriously considered putting it on my body pillow, because that was too weird, even for me.

  “Anytime.” He closed the door behind me, and I followed him into the kitchen. He had a stack of head shots on the island. “I sign these for fans who write in asking for one.”

  I put my purse down as he sat on a bar stool and began quickly autographing one picture after another. “Shouldn’t I be helping you with this?”

  “Do you think you could forge my signature?” he asked. “If you can’t, it has to be me. I promised my agent I’d get these signed by tomo
rrow morning.” He tapped the Sharpie he was using against his lips, and I’d never been so jealous of a writing instrument in my life. “Was it tomorrow? My agent says I never listen to him. At least, I think that’s what he says.”

  He tossed me a mischievous grin, pleased he’d made me smile. It was so adorable and hot that all I wanted right then was to kiss him. To shove the stack of photos off the counter, leap across it, and knock him over. My lips actually tingled in anticipation.

  “I’d like to know what you’re thinking right now.”

  I felt all the color drain my face. Did he know? “I’m not telling you. That’s why I didn’t say it out loud. Because that’s how thinking works.”

  Chase laughed. “Sometimes in interviews they ask you what superpower you’d like to have. I used to choose being able to read people’s minds. Then Facebook happened, and I got over that.”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. He seriously got cuter with each passing minute. I needed to keep my hands busy and think of the best way to tell him what I’d come to say. “Do you mind?” I pointed at the pantry, and it made his hand still.

  “Are you making me cookies?”

  “Yes, you obsessed weirdo.”

  “Mi kitchen is su kitchen. Help yourself.”

  I opened the door to his pantry. It was easily the size of a small apartment. I could have happily lived in there. And it was organized with bins and containers, the kind you see in magazines. I scanned his shelves, because a cake mix would be easier. I found white, chocolate, and yellow mixes, but no spice cake. I grabbed the containers marked flour and sugar, and boxes of baking powder and soda.

  “Where are your spices?”

  He pointed to a cabinet next to his stove. I set the oven to 350 degrees. I admit it took me a few minutes to figure it out because it had more buttons and dials than NASA’s Mission Control Center. I quickly found cinnamon, and it surprised me when I found cloves as well.

  “I can’t believe you have cloves.”

  “Of course I have . . . whatever you just said. Do you think I’m a savage?”