#Starstruck

by Sariah Wilson

  I knew I was going to frame it.

  When we rode on It’s a Small World, I told Chase about when Lexi and I had gone on the ride on Grad Night. Since it’s considered a kid’s ride, we were the only ones in line and literally had the place to ourselves. Lexi got out of the boat several times to dance with the animated dolls. At one point she messed around for so long that she missed our boat. She’d had to jump in one behind me, hop over the rows, and climb across the boats until she got back to where I was. I didn’t have the guts to run amok like she did, but I was thoroughly convinced that when we got to the end of the ride, we would be kicked out of the park. It didn’t happen. The only thing I could figure was that teenage boys were staffing the ride and were either amused or didn’t care, and nobody said anything to us.

  Even though the song always became an earworm that would burrow deep into my brain, I always thought this ride was romantic. The little gondolas, the water, the darkness. Sitting pressed against Chase only exacerbated it.

  The same thing happened on every ride after that. Suddenly they were all magical and romantic, and I wished we were alone and that I had the nerve to rest my head on his shoulder and hold his hand.

  I considered it when we were given a ride on a private train car called the Lilly Belle, named after Walt Disney’s wife. Braden said she had helped design the car, and it remained just as she’d decorated it. The inside was full of dark hardwoods, red plush armchairs, and Victorian end tables and lamps. It was totally closed in, unlike the other cars, which were open on all sides. It was a nice break, but we couldn’t say or do anything because we weren’t alone. There were some other people with guides dressed similarly to Braden, and Chase’s distinctive voice would have given him away. As it was, we were starting to get some side-eyes and whispers.

  When the train returned to the station, Braden seemed aware of what I’d noticed and ushered us out quickly.

  We went up Main Street USA and slowed down once we reached the Sleeping Beauty Castle. I veered off to the right, over to the Snow White Grotto. It was an area that people usually just passed through, but it had special meaning to my family.

  I dug through my purse and found two quarters, then handed one to Chase. As I stood at the wishing well, for the first time I hesitated before making my wish. I already had so much, it felt selfish to ask for more.

  Including the amazing, hot guy next to me reading the sign attached to the well. “They donate the coins to children’s charities. Very cool.” He casually flipped his quarter in, and I wondered if he’d even made a wish. I finally made mine, settling on I wish I knew whether Chase actually likes me.

  “My stepdad sort of proposed to my mom here,” I told him.

  “Really?”

  “Yep. They were right here at this wishing well, watching the swans in the moat and listening to the Snow White music. Duncan was kind of goofy. He dramatically pointed to the castle and said, ‘Oh, Zerah, will you come live with me in my castle?’ Keep in mind it was only their fourth date. So my mother decided to screw with him and stayed silent for a second, then very seriously answered, ‘Yes, I will.’ Which freaked Duncan out, although he tried to keep his cool. But instead of scaring him off, it changed things between them, and they went from being casual to seriously dating.”

  He smiled as he leaned against the well. “So if I ask you to come live with me in my castle, what will you say?”

  Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. And yes.

  I didn’t say that, though I was surprised by both the immediacy and the intensity of my internal reaction. Not to mention that if I counted hanging out at my mom’s, this was our fourth date as well. Chase kept talking about signs and what the universe wanted. I wanted so desperately for this to be one of those signs. Instead, I nudged him with my elbow and laughed.

  “What do you want to do next?” Chase asked.

  “Shouldn’t you pick something?” I didn’t want to dominate the entire day by doing only what I chose.

  “Nah. I like seeing all this through your eyes.”

  When I mentioned I liked the Mark Twain riverboat, Braden, who had wisely hung back during our exchange, told us to follow him.

  “Do you have to be a movie star to get this kind of treatment?” I asked as he led us into an employee-only area to take a shortcut to Frontierland.

  “Anybody can hire a VIP tour guide. Some celebrities choose to; some don’t. We recommend that they do because it makes it easier on everyone. A celebrity sighting can really gum up the works for foot traffic in specific areas.” Despite the fact that we’d been walking around for hours, Braden remained relentlessly upbeat and professional and knew more about Disneyland than anyone I’d ever met. Like how the purple-flowered teacup on the Mad Tea Party ride spun the fastest. A fact I could now personally attest to, given that I’d nearly puked afterward.

  We got to the steamboat landing just as the old-fashioned white boat pulled in and allowed the onboard passengers to disembark. Once they shouted the all clear, Braden took us on ahead of the other people waiting. Jazz music played through the speakers. “I have a surprise for you.” We went to the second floor to a wooden door with red curtains marked “Private.”

  Braden knocked, and a woman wearing a name tag that said “Captain Christy” opened the door. She had on a black vest and pants, a white shirt, and a huge red bow tie. “What have we here?”

  “I was told you might be looking for some extra crew members,” Braden responded.

  “You heard right. Come on up.” Captain Christy took us inside the captain’s quarters, which was complete with a bed and dresser. She directed us to a set of steps that looked like a ladder, and I followed her up, with Chase right behind me. I tried not to think about the fact that he had a perfect view of my rear end.

  “Welcome to the wheelhouse!” the captain said. We were in a tiny white room with windows on every side except the front. “You can sign our guest book, if you’d like.”

  While Chase signed, using his real name, Braden told us the guest book dated back to the 1950s. I fought off the urge to flip through it and just signed my name instead.

  “Who would like to steer?”

  “Zoe would,” Chase offered, flashing me a grin.

  “That puts you in charge of the bell and whistle,” the captain told him. She instructed him to ring the bell four times, pull the whistle for five seconds, and then ring the bell again to let the boiler engineer below deck know we were setting off. Chase asked her questions about the other boats in the water, and she told him about their system to slow down or reverse if necessary. I loved how interested he was in everything. Like the whole world just fascinated him. When she mentioned the steamboat being on a track, I realized my steering was largely ceremonial, but I was okay with that.

  Finally, it was time for me to “steer,” and I could feel Chase watching me. I turned and saw him smiling, and I couldn’t help but grin back. This was easily the best date I had ever been on.

  Which meant I should have expected everything to go wrong.

  “The maiden voyage of the Mark Twain was on July 13, 1955. It was four days before the official opening because there was a private party to celebrate Walt and Lillian Disney’s thirtieth wedding anniversary. Story goes that Disneyland’s construction supervisor found Mrs. Disney sweeping the decks before the party, and he helped her out.”

  I wondered what would happen if I turned the wheel too hard. “You know so many cool things about this place, Braden. My brain is full of useless information, like which Real Housewives are feuding and which couples from The Bachelor are still together.”

  “Don’t let her fool you,” Chase interjected. “She knows everything about everything.”

  He sounded . . . proud of me. Which made my pulse dance. “Obviously not about Disneyland.”

  “Not yet. But I expect you to be fully briefed soon.”

  The sound of screams fading in and out echoed off to our left.

  “Zoe, that’s Spl
ash Mountain. I know what you said about rides like that, but it’s my favorite. Would you go on it with me?”

  “You mean the one with the five-story drop at the end?” I gulped audibly.

  “Fifty-two point five feet,” Braden added. Which was so not helpful.

  “The ride where people are screaming hysterically. That’s the one you want us to go on.”

  “It’ll be fun,” Chase said. “Promise.”

  We had very different ideas about fun. But it was the only thing Chase had asked to do all day. I would be the worst person ever if I said no. I could get on, grit my teeth, and close my eyes. “Sure. Let’s do that next.”

  I got another certificate from the captain, but all I could think about was what I had just agreed to. And before I knew it, we were settling into the Splash Mountain canoes. Which had no seat belts and no straps of any kind. Chase asked if I wanted to sit in the front and laughed when I violently shook my head. The ride operators asked us to put away anything that could fly off—hats, sunglasses, etc. Braden promised to meet us at the exit.

  Then it was dark, and we alternated between going slowly and very quickly. I couldn’t tell much beyond that, as I screwed my eyelids shut. The worst was going up, up, up to that drop. I held on tightly to the railings on either side of me, my heart beating in my mouth.

  “Open your eyes, Zoe! It’s awesome!”

  “Shut up, Covington!” I yelled back, and even with all the rushing water, I heard him laugh. I didn’t open my eyes as we hovered at the very top, then I hyperventilated as we plummeted to our doom.

  Okay, not actual doom as we (obviously) survived, but it was terrifying. I did not enjoy it. Chase, on the other hand, was laughing and shaking water off his arms. I forced my limbs to relax, not quite able to breathe yet.

  I hoped he realized how much I liked him, given that I was willing to risk premature death to go on a ride he liked.

  “See? Not so bad.”

  “Says you.” I put my head down close to my knees, worried I might actually faint even though it was all over.

  When we got to the very end, Chase was there to help me out of the canoe. My ankles felt weak, and I leaned against him. “Hey, you seem a little shaky.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I told him, feeling much better now that I was back on solid ground.

  He put his arm around my shoulders and helped me walk. I didn’t know if it was the shock and adrenaline from the ride or just having him touch me, but every nerve ending sparked inside me like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

  Which was why I didn’t notice all the whispers and stares until it was too late.

  “Aren’t you Chase Covington? Can I, like, take a picture with you?” A bottle-blonde twenty-something in a tank top so tight it was obviously meant for a toddler stood in front of us, blocking our way.

  “My friend’s not feeling too well. Not today, sorry.” He was polite and kind, but that didn’t please his fan.

  She wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “It’s, like, one picture. Are you really that big of a douche?” Miss Too Tight Shirt said, giving us an ugly look and crossing her arms.

  “He’s not a douche,” I retorted, ready to yank out some extensions if necessary.

  But our confrontation quickly ended as her actions emboldened the people around us. There were autograph books thrust at Chase, flashes from phones going off, and cell phones being held up, recording us. Girls were screaming and crying, and others started reaching for him, tearing at his shirt. Chase looked panicked. I ducked my head and rummaged through my purse until I found my keys. I yanked them out and blew my rape whistle, hoping Braden would hear. If he didn’t, I was going to use the Mace attached to my key ring to get everyone out of our way.

  More and more people surrounded us. We were literally being mobbed.

  Braden appeared, along with three other cast members, who made an opening for Chase and me. We were led through another employee-only door, which Braden slammed shut.

  Chase’s shirt was torn in several places. His fans had treated him like a piece of meat, there for them to grab and harass. He leaned against the wall, breathing hard. “Are you okay?” he asked me.

  Me? My clothing was intact. “I’m completely fine. Are you okay? That was crazy.”

  He nodded, trying to catch his breath. It had to have been worse for him. I felt shaky and nauseated, and I wasn’t the one they wanted attention from.

  Braden kept apologizing, but Chase wouldn’t let him. “It wasn’t your fault. This could have happened to me anywhere. I should have remembered to put on my hat and sunglasses after the ride finished. I was . . .” His eyes wandered over to me. “Distracted.”

  Now I felt even worse. “I’m sorry.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for. That’s not what I meant. None of this was your fault, either.” Having composed himself, Chase pushed off the wall. “I probably need to buy a new shirt, but do you want to head over to California Adventure?”

  That was the Disney park directly across from the Magic Kingdom. My phone started beeping frantically. I had forgotten I had set up a Google Alert with Chase’s name. It sent me link after link of pictures and posts on social media about how he was at Disneyland. Everyone in the world knew where he was right then. He wouldn’t be able to keep a low profile any longer. I showed him my screen. “Maybe we should go home.”

  He nodded and took me by the hand. It was amazing how right it felt to hold hands with him. To lace my fingers through his. Like this was how it was supposed to be. Braden escorted us out the way we’d come in, still trying to apologize, but Chase told him, “This is on me. I should have brought security. I was just hoping I could have one normal day.” He sounded so sad I wanted to hug him.

  Braden walked us all the way back to Chase’s car. Chase opened the door for me, and I saw him hand Braden a very big tip. Chase let out a deep breath when he got into the driver’s seat, and he took a moment before turning the key and starting the car.

  Once we were clear of the parking lot, he reached over and took my hand, and that feeling of rightness, of being where I belonged, returned. “Do you want to come over and hang out?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t even let myself think about it. I didn’t want to leave him yet.

  Half an hour later, we went through an In-N-Out drive-through, and Chase smiled as the cashier about peed her pants when she saw whose order she had just filled. I tried to give him my debit card, but he wouldn’t take it. He pulled his wallet out and passed some cash to the girl. The workers at the second window were expecting us, and they crowded behind the teenager handing us our food. Chase thanked her, and she looked like she was about to start crying.

  “Eat now or at home?” he asked, handing me the bags of food.

  “Home.” I almost started babbling about how I knew he hadn’t meant it was my home and that I wasn’t trying to imply anything or move things along too quickly by thinking of his house as home, but I stopped. He didn’t look scared by my answer, so I decided not to make a big deal out of it.

  Plus, I didn’t want him to let go of my hand, because he probably would have needed it to eat and drive at the same time.

  He didn’t let go until we got to his place. He excused himself to go upstairs and grab another shirt while I put the bags of food on the kitchen counter. Not even a minute later, Chase came back downstairs, putting his new shirt on and giving me the full visual of his delicious abs before he covered them. I tried not to frown. He grabbed the bags off the counter and took them into the family room, where he set them on the coffee table. He flopped down on his couch and rubbed his eyes. He looked worn out. I figured I should probably let him rest. “Do you want me to call an Uber?”

  Chase sat up, giving me a weak smile. “No. I want you to stay.”

  I couldn’t tell if he meant it or if he was just being polite. I decided to take him at his word and handed him his food. We ate in silence,
but it was a comfortable one.

  He finished way before I did, used a napkin, and threw it in the bag. “Earlier this week they messengered over a movie I filmed a while ago that hasn’t been released yet. It’s called The Storm. Interested?”

  That made me sit up straight. “Absolutely.”

  “Normally I don’t like watching myself.”

  I totally got that. I didn’t like hearing myself on somebody else’s voice mail.

  “But this was the first thing I filmed after rehab. I want to see how it turned out. I’ve been waiting to watch it with you.”

  Aw. My heart fluttered. He was seriously the cutest.

  He used his universal remote to queue up the move and turn off the lights. I put my uneaten food back in the bag. I wanted to give this my full attention. I knew a little bit about it already. He played a Maine fisherman who dreamed of going to college but gave it all up to take over his family’s fishing business. His character ended up in one of the worst storms on record, and he refused to tell me whether his character survived. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  Just like last time, Chase made comments and told me anecdotes about filming. Like how he had done all his own underwater stunts and how in each of those scenes he had been surrounded by a team of divers with oxygen, ready to swim in and save him if something bad happened.

  On the screen, the first massive wave appeared and knocked him off his ship and into the ocean.

  “You’re holding your breath,” he observed.

  I let it out. “Okay, I know it’s weird, but whenever I watch a movie like this and someone goes underwater, I hold my breath to see if I would have survived.”

  “It’s not weird. I do that, too. But I almost died watching Finding Nemo.”

  That made me laugh harder than I had all day. He grinned and reached out for my hand, then pulled it to his lap. He didn’t put his arm around me, didn’t pull me closer, but each circle he rubbed with his thumb on the inside of my palm sent a shiver down my back.