#Starstruck

by Sariah Wilson

  “Not quite.”

  “Here?” Now he was wiping his forehead.

  “Right here,” I said with a laugh, stepping forward to rub the milk off with my thumb. It was a reactionary move, and I hadn’t allowed myself to think about it first. I rubbed my thumb just above his top lip, and my smile died when I looked up at him.

  Because his eyes had the same expression as when I had set the tray of cookies down. Like he didn’t care if I had cooled off enough, because he intended to devour me.

  For the record, I was the opposite of cooled off. Just one look from him made my blood heat and feel too thick for my veins.

  I should have taken my hand away, but I didn’t. He had faint stubble that made his skin an intoxicating combination of smooth and prickly. Chase reached out and wrapped his fingers around my wrist, and my pulse there jumped against his touch. He tugged at me gently, and I stopped touching his face.

  “I don’t know about you, but after all this sharing, I think I’d like to turn my brain off for a while.”

  He led me into the family room, and my heartbeat got louder with each step he took. His fingers were still around my wrist, causing little waves of heat to travel up my arm. We sat down on the couch, and the only thing I could think of to turn off our brains involved a whole lot of making out. I’d kissed my fair share of guys before, but most of the kisses had been brief and not all that exciting.

  I couldn’t imagine kissing Chase would feel that way.

  And I hoped I wouldn’t disappoint him.

  But the only person who was disappointed was me when he let go of my arm to pick up a remote from his coffee table. “This is supposed to be a universal remote. You can imagine how sad I was when I realized it didn’t control the universe. Not even remotely.”

  This was not a time for jokes.

  “I thought we could watch a movie. And I will even let you choose, as soon as you give me at least one movie from your better-than-Octavius list.”

  My body was so flooded with hormones, anticipation, and want that it made it hard to concentrate on what he was saying. “Miracle Mile.” It was about a potential Olympic swimmer who was in a serious car accident and came back to win medals in the Olympics four years later. “Although it has an inaccurate title. It probably should have been called Miracle Meter.”

  And the fact that he’d spent most of that movie in a Speedo had absolutely nothing to do with my choice.

  I mean, maybe a little.

  “That character was a drunk, which was what caused the accident. His father and grandfathers were alcoholics, too. I probably should have made that connection before I fell down the rabbit hole myself.”

  “That addiction runs in your family?”

  “It doesn’t so much run. Instead, it casually strolls through, taking its time to get to know everybody personally. Anyway, now you get to choose the movie.”

  This was probably what it was like to date a chef and have him say, “You choose the restaurant.” I didn’t want to pick one of his, because that would be weird, right? And I didn’t want to go total romantic comedy on him, because even though I loved them and thought we were in a place where romance was a possibility, nothing was happening. Did I pick a stuff-blowing-up movie? Depressing one with subtitles? Sci-fi? Fantasy? What if I selected something he thought was terrible and it totally changed his opinion of me?

  “Would you like to see the new Brad Pitt movie?” He mentioned the title. I knew for a fact it wasn’t available to rent because Lexi had been begging Gavin to take her to see it.

  “The one that’s still in theaters?”

  “Yeah, one of the producers wants to work with me, so she sent this over to show me the kind of work she does.”

  “That sounds good.” His world was so very different from mine.

  Chase messed around with his remote and got the movie started. I tried to pay attention. I really did. But all I could think about was our seating arrangement. I was close to him. Close enough that if I leaned sideways, we’d be touching. But we weren’t cuddling like Lexi and Gavin always did when they watched TV.

  Plus, Chase kept up a running commentary throughout the movie. He commented on the lighting and the costumes and the camera angles. How he would have made different choices as the lead actor. The lines of dialogue that sounded cheesy. Thing was, that’s how I normally watched movies. It made Lexi crazy, and she had pretty much stopped watching them with me.

  Except Chase’s movies. She didn’t watch those with Gavin, because they were ours. But I had to promise to keep my mouth shut and not mock bad accents or poor acting choices, and I most definitely could not theorize on foreshadowing and plot twists.

  Another thing Chase and I had in common. But I didn’t join in. I stayed mute, feeling weird and wondering what exactly was going on. Because I kept thinking of this as a real date. I had built it up in my mind, even though all he’d said was that he liked me as a person and wanted to hang out with me. I reminded myself that he’d said he was interested and that he thought me beautiful, but for all I knew that meant something entirely different in Hollywood. He’d never said he saw me as girlfriend potential, and despite some particularly opportunistic moments, he hadn’t kissed me. That was the thing that bothered me the most. Why hadn’t he made any kind of move?

  Maybe it was like I’d thought earlier—I was just a kindness experiment. Maybe his plan had been find a pathetic fan, befriend her in real life, and become even more self-actualized as I make her life better.

  He did put his arm across the back of the couch at one point, but he didn’t put it around me. He just left it there. Taunting me.

  And the longer I stayed, the more pathetic I felt. When the credits began to roll, I stood up and said, “Thanks for inviting me over, but I have class in the morning. I should probably get going.”

  I went into the kitchen to retrieve my purse, and I was almost to the front door when he called out my name. He jogged over. “Are you sure you have to go?”

  So very, very sure. I wanted to escape with whatever remnants of my dignity I still possessed. “I’m sure.”

  He opened the door before I could, and I had to duck under his arm to get outside. “Okay, bye!” I said over my shoulder, desperate for the sanctuary of my car.

  “Wait.” He tugged on my arm, turning me around. Then he took both of my hands in his, and I told myself to stop reacting. It didn’t mean anything. “You seem tense.”

  Maybe that’s because the guy I’d dreamed about kissing since I was thirteen didn’t seem all that interested in it. “I’m not tense. Just, um, alert.” And stupid, apparently.

  “I had fun tonight.”

  So had I, until I’d thought he wanted to kiss me, and instead he wanted to sit next to me in a dark room and not kiss me.

  He stepped closer, and the air around me forgot how it was supposed to function in providing me oxygen. Either that or my lungs had stopped working. He leaned in, and my entire body cheered, Yes! Finally!

  And then . . . he kissed me on the forehead. Like I was a child he thought was cute.

  Like I was Zia.

  “Good night.”

  Utterly humiliated, I didn’t say it back and instead walked away, putting my hands over my cheeks. I functioned on autopilot as I got in my car and drove off.

  I couldn’t believe he’d kissed me on the forehead. Don’t get me wrong, it felt amazing. His lips were warm and firm, and I still had electric tingles shooting through my body from that brief contact.

  My phone buzzed, and when I got to a stoplight, I checked it. It was a text from Chase.

  And just like that, all my negativity and doubt dissipated. Like early-morning fog at the beach once the sun started to rise. So what if he hadn’t kissed me? He wanted to see me again!

  I felt slightly pathetic that I was so easily swayed. I used the speech-to-text feature on my phone to reply.

  Without hesitation, I replied:

  And just as quickly he respond
ed:

  The smart thing would be to text him back and say Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want to spend my time trying to figure out what you want because you’re sending completely mixed signals.

  Of course I didn’t do that.

  I was just like Zelda with her chocolate. I should stay away from Chase, but I just wanted to eat him up.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I received a text from Chase every morning and one every night around bedtime. All innocent and innocuous. Just “Have a good day” and “Sweet dreams.” Stuff like that.

  He also sent me random questions throughout the week. A couple of days before, he’d asked,

  In that moment, despite what I’d said previously, I probably would have chosen mind reading. Just so I could understand what exactly was happening between us.

  Instead, I chose:

  Another day he sent this:

  My grandmother talked to me a lot about the letters she and my grandpa had exchanged. How they’d used them to get to know each other and how sad it made her that that sort of communication had faded away. But as I sat giggling over my phone, I realized it hadn’t. It was different, but we were back to using the written word to see if we liked each other. If we were compatible.

  And maybe someday we’d even use it to talk about our feelings.

  Or lack thereof, as the case might be.

  I went back to looking for work, and on Wednesday evening I got a phone call from a family who lived in the wealthy part of Marabella, not too far from where the Hendersons had lived. Their nanny had up and quit with no notice because she had eloped to Las Vegas with the gardener. The Mendels were desperate for help. They had found a babysitter who could work only mornings, and Mrs. Mendel said she would be willing to work with my schedule. It would involve going to their home a couple of evenings after my internship, which I hadn’t done for the Hendersons, but I needed the job. The Mendels had adopted two little girls from China, Lily and Mei-Ling, and I thought watching two girls after my experience with the Henderson boys might be a nice change. They offered me an hourly wage that was a bit higher than the Hendersons had paid me.

  It seemed too good to be true.

  “I’ll have to thank Mrs. Henderson for the referral,” I said when we had finalized the arrangements.

  “Oh no. You’ll have to thank Chase Covington. My husband works as an executive at Daylight Studios, and Chase overheard him talking about losing our nanny and said he’d seen you taking care of kids and gave you an excellent reference.”

  Once we’d hung up, I wasn’t quite sure what to think about what she’d said. Was it okay for Chase to find me a job? Shouldn’t that have been my responsibility? Was it too much? It was kind and thoughtful and very much needed. I guessed that if all he wanted was to be friends, he was a good friend to have.

  The rest of the week flew by—class, helping my mom, and interning at the Foundation. Before I knew it, it was Saturday morning. Chase said he’d be by to pick me up around nine o’clock.

  Knowing Lexi would be passed out until well after noon, I’d agreed to it. I did take the precaution of waiting for him in the parking lot so I could just jump in his car when he arrived.

  “This is a really nice car,” I said when I got in. He launched into some long explanation of the type of car it was, but I mostly tuned it out. I much preferred watching his profile and how he moved his hands around when he described something he was excited about. It was adorable. He kept pointing out features, and while I liked the cushy seats and the engine that purred like a large cat, my favorite feature of his car was the driver.

  Even though he still made me a little nervous, the thing I noticed about hanging out with Chase was that our conversations never stalled. I, Queen of the Socially Inept, Duchess of Awkward Small Talk, enjoyed talking to him. It was like the outside world ceased to exist. Nothing else mattered. It was just me and him, connecting and laughing and joking around.

  I didn’t think about what Lexi might say if she found out. How fast Stephanie would fire me if she knew Chase and I had become friends and I didn’t use our friendship for the Foundation’s benefit. How if we weren’t just friends, and at some point he pressed his lips against mine, between my celibacy and his no-marriage policy, we had an expiration date. Eventually he would grow tired of nothing happening between us, and I would become frustrated with waiting for him to change his mind about a serious relationship.

  Even though it was out of character for me, I decided that just once I would enjoy the here and now. I’d stay on the ride until somebody kicked me off.

  Then we were in Anaheim, and I could see Space Mountain, and suddenly I was six years old again, going to Disneyland for the first time with my grandparents.

  We didn’t go to the main parking lot; he drove around to the opposite side of the park. He spoke to someone at a guard station, giving his name, and we were let in after the guard told us where to park.

  “Where are we?” I asked as we got out of the car.

  “You’re going to love this. Come on.”

  We came to a nondescript door painted bland green that reminded me of the trash cans in the park. A man with dark hair and wire-rim glasses stood there wearing a red-and-blue plaid vest, a white long-sleeve shirt, and blue pants.

  “How are you today? I’m Braden, and I’ll be in charge of your VIP tour today. Think of me as your personal concierge. Anything you need, anywhere you want to go, any ride you’re in the mood for, just let me know, and I’ll take care of everything. So, I already know your name, Mr. Covington.”

  They shook hands, and Chase said, “Just Chase, please.”

  “I’m Zoe.”

  Braden shook my hand as well, his wide grin with perfect teeth never faltering. “A pleasure! This entrance we’re using now is the one favored by many of our celebrity guests, both past and present. I shouldn’t really name-drop, but let me just say it has been the entrance of choice for people whose names rhyme with Fichael Schmackson and Marbra Smeisand.”

  We were in a dim hallway, and I saw a light up ahead. When we reached it, I was hit by the smell of seawater and realized we were in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. We were at the beginning, where the old man in the rocking chair plays his banjo across from the Blue Bayou restaurant just after you’ve boarded. The tunnel we were in ran along the top of the banjo player’s cabin. Patrons were eating and laughing while boats carrying guests launched beneath us. I wondered if people could see us up here. If they would wonder who we were.

  I just stood there, totally in awe. “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “I think I might be offended,” Chase teased, not knowing how right he was. Because standing there in the ride wasn’t technically the most amazing thing I’d seen. I’d witnessed sweaty Chase partially out of his superhero costume. And lathered-up Chase on the beach. And beach Chase with seawater dripping off him, and . . .

  Okay, so this made the top ten of the most amazing things I’d ever seen.

  Possibly.

  Then we were out on the street in New Orleans Square, and Chase immediately put on his hat and sunglasses, something Braden noted. “Will you be needing extra security today, Mr. Cov—Chase?”

  “I’m an actor. If I can’t manage to blend in, then I’m not very good at my job, am I?”

  I didn’t think it had anything to do with whether or not he could act. He had an inborn magnetism you couldn’t look away from. Not to mention we were being escorted around by someone in very bright colors, and Braden was sure to draw attention to us. But Chase seemed confident, and I decided to trust his judgment.

  “Where to?” Chase asked. “Your wish is our command.”

  “Since we’re here, Pirates and then Haunted Mansion. And then Small World.”

  Then the best thing in the entire world happened. Braden walked us onto Pirates of the Caribbean. I’d had this brief moment after we arrived where I’d worried about what would happen if Chase waited in line, bu
t now I realized why we had Braden. Because Chase would get mobbed if people recognized him and he stayed in one place for too long.

  Deciding to get out in front of my roller-coaster phobia, I explained to Chase that I didn’t like the drops on Pirates. I was a serious wuss when it came to fast rides and big drops. When Lexi and I went to Grad Night (once a year, high school seniors go to Disneyland after it closes and spend the whole night), everybody wanted to be on Splash Mountain, the Matterhorn, and Space Mountain. And they’d thought those rides were tame. I could force myself to go on them, but I closed my eyes and didn’t like them, which Chase seemed to find amusing.

  But rides like Pirates? This was what I loved about Disneyland—it was the best people trap ever set by a mouse. It was the atmosphere, the magic of the surroundings. Not just in the architecture but in the attention to every detail. Hidden outlines of Mickeys everywhere. How clean and beautiful everything was. Even if I didn’t go on a single ride, I just loved being there. For me it was like stepping into another world, and if I’d been able to justify spending the money on a year-round pass, I probably would have dedicated a large portion of my free time to being in the park, just hanging out. As a kid I had routinely fantasized about hiding out on a ride and then having the whole place to myself after closing.

  Braden pointed out the headboard in the captain’s quarters. He said that although all the other bones and skeletons were fake, the skull and crossbones in the headboard were real. Why did that make me want to touch it?

  I liked Chase even more when he turned to me and said, “I kind of want to touch that now.”

  Having been to Disneyland at least twice a year for the past sixteen years, I thought I knew everything there was to know, see, and do in the park. I found out very quickly how wrong my perception was. When we got to the Haunted Mansion, Braden took us around back to show us a pet cemetery I’d never known existed. We also got death certificates when we finished the ride that said, “I survived the Haunted Mansion.”