Then he shot me one of those sexy smirks, like he knew exactly what effect he had on me. I tried to focus on the movie.
It ended with his character being the only survivor and deciding to go to college to pursue his dreams, after all, since so many of his friends and family members had permanently lost their chance to do more with their lives.
He paused the credits, and I tried to wipe away tears with my free hand before he noticed.
“Hashtag better than Octavius?” he teased.
“Definitely hashtag better than Octavius. You were amazing.”
He squeezed my hand. “That means more to me than any professional review.” He kept the room in the dark, and I wondered if he wanted us to watch another movie. It would have to be something lighter, though. I had been fighting off sobs for the past hour. “Do you regret today?”
What? “Are you kidding me? Today was . . . incredible.” I wanted to say more, but I stopped. Until it occurred to me that maybe the reason he was holding back was because I held back. Maybe it was time to break the cycle. “It was easily one of the best days of my life.”
He looked surprised. “Even with the crowd chasing us?”
“Even then.” Probably because I’d been with him.
“Some women haven’t . . . liked that about me.”
It wasn’t like it was his fault people were crazy. “Everybody’s got something, right? Some guys go out to a bar every night. Others play golf all day Saturday. Or have to watch ‘the game’ all the time. Or participate in Fight Club. This is your thing. Being mauled by random strangers.”
That got me a half smile. “I was really worried about you getting hurt today.”
“I was worried about you. With good reason.”
“I think I might have been scratched.” He turned the lights on and let go of my hand to yank off his shirt. He turned his back toward me. “Do you see anything?”
Did I see anything? Only the most masculine and magnificent display of broad shoulders and back muscles known to womankind. I reminded myself that I was supposed to be looking for injuries, not fantasizing about leaning forward to press kisses against his tanned skin. I noticed some freckles and a couple of scars but nothing recent. “All clear. Nobody drew blood.” My voice sounded small.
He put his shirt back on, and I wanted to pout with disappointment. He grabbed my hand again, like he hadn’t wanted to let go in the first place.
“Speaking of today, I realized I did make one mistake. When you asked me where my favorite place was, I should have said London. Or Paris.” He was playing with my fingers, sliding his own between them, making my stomach clench and my skin feel too tight.
“Let’s go home and get your passport. We’ll go right now.”
Thing was, he didn’t sound like he was teasing. Like if I said yes, I’d be on a private jet in a couple of hours on my way to Europe. “I don’t have a passport. I’ve never really traveled anywhere.”
“We’ll have to rectify that. After you get your passport.”
First thing to do Monday morning: get my freaking passport. Even though I could never let him spend that kind of money and fly me to England or France.
Could I?
There was definitely a part of me that considered it. I kept surprising myself with my reactions to him and the things he said.
“Speaking of travel, I have some not-so-great news. I have to go to Ireland for about three weeks.”
“What? Why?” I whined like Zelda did when somebody told her she couldn’t have chocolate.
“We have to do some location reshoots. They decided to change a couple of things about the script. Too bad about that passport or you could have come with me.”
Little thrill pangs surged through me at the thought of being with him in a place as beautiful as Ireland. Until reality set in. “Even if I had one, I couldn’t just . . . I have school. And my family. And I had to start a new job since my last boss was an egomaniacal celebrity unfamiliar with sexual harassment law.”
And I’m still not sleeping with you. I kept that last bit to myself.
He grinned and pulled my hand up to his mouth. He kissed the back of it. The contact was brief, but it made my knees melt. I was glad I was sitting down.
“Just promise me you won’t go falling in love with some other guy while I’m gone.” He said it in a playful tone, but I sensed some seriousness behind it.
“I don’t know how that would be possible, given that you basically ruined my last date.” I hadn’t meant to say that, especially once I saw the wicked gleam in his eyes.
“What happened? Did he take you to see Octavius and you realized what a letdown the man next to you was in comparison?” If anybody else had said it, it would have sounded obnoxious. Somehow he was just adorable.
“This guy from work I was sort of crushing on asked me out to dinner. You were tweeting things. And I thought they were about me. So I kept checking my phone, which I think he didn’t like. He’s been avoiding me ever since.”
Chase didn’t say “Good,” but it looked like he was thinking it. “Do you mean the day after we talked about Octavius? Those tweets were definitely about you.”
If he kept making me feel this giddy, at some point my heart was going to give out.
We talked and talked. About everything and nothing. Like whether he preferred going out or staying home. “Socializing and networking is my job. When I’m at a party or a premiere, it’s because I have to be. And being surrounded by alcohol is not fun. I’ve always been a bit of a homebody. And I’ve been reminded lately just how much fun staying in can be.”
Was that another reference to me? Why did I feel like we were swinging back and forth like a pendulum? Even though earlier I’d decided to enjoy the here and now, I couldn’t stop obsessing. One second it was like of course he liked me, of course he was interested in me, and then it was back to him just wanting to be friends, and I was blowing everything way out of proportion.
He distracted me from my thoughts by asking me to tell him something he didn’t know.
“So, twelve plus one is the same as eleven plus two, right?”
“Right.”
“But did you know that when you take the letters in twelve plus one, you can rearrange them to be eleven plus two?”
He got out his phone and typed the words out. “That’s cool.”
When I answered his request, I knew that wasn’t what he’d meant. He wanted me to tell him something personal. But I didn’t really have anything like that left. I’d already told him all the important stuff. By our third (maybe fourth) date. I had never done that before with any guy.
Much later on I told him about our family trip to Yellowstone the previous summer and how Zelda had been obsessed with seeing buffalo. How we’d spotted one near a rest stop and Zelda had been thrilled. And the next time we saw a whole herd, we pointed it out to her, but she’d rolled her eyes and said, “I already seen a buffalo,” which made him chuckle. Then I looked at my watch.
I realized with a gasp that it was three o’clock in the morning. It was going to take at least forty-five minutes to get to my place. I’d never been so into a conversation with someone that I’d literally lost track of time. “It is so late. I should probably get home.”
He flicked on his phone, his eyes widening when he saw the time. “You probably should. But I kind of want you to stay.”
I kind of wanted to stay, but I didn’t know if that would mean something different to me than it would to him. Would he interpret me staying as some kind of invitation? Not to mention that I didn’t normally stay out this late. Lexi had probably called the police. “My roommate most likely has an APB out on me, so I should go.”
“You could text her. And stay.”
It didn’t help matters that he looked so inviting and tempting. I was starting to get that whole Eve–apple thing.
Mind made up, I went to the kitchen and got my purse. “I can call a cab.”
“I picke
d you up; I’m taking you home. Come on.”
He held my hand the whole way home. Like this was a thing we did now. We didn’t do anything else, but at least it was something.
Unless he held hands with all his female friends. Maybe he was just affectionate and liked the contact.
We chatted for the entire drive, but now there was this underlying current. Because he hadn’t wanted me to leave, and I hadn’t, either. Did that mean something more? If it did, then what?
When we got to my apartment complex, he insisted on walking me to the door. And my body said, We are at Defcon 1! This is finally happening! Because why else would a guy walk you to the door unless he planned to kiss you good night? I had mints in my purse but no easy way to get them or to take one without him noticing. And I knew he would tease me about it.
My heart pounded, my lips tingled, and it was practically impossible to convince oxygen to enter my lungs.
We walked up the three flights of stairs to my apartment. We stood in front of the door, and I fumbled around in my purse, felt the metal mint container, and briefly debated with myself whether I could sneak one out. I decided against it, as I was not known for my manual dexterity. I grabbed my keys instead. “So. Here we are. At my door. Made of wood. Maybe. It could be a wood veneer. Or metal.”
Chase leaned against the door frame, and his beauty hit me all over again. How could God have given so many good looks to just one person? “What your front door is made of is definitely important to know.”
Was he teasing me? Seriously? When my insides were about to explode?
He gave me a smile and said, “Good night, Zoe.”
And now he was leaving? Was he really not going to kiss me? Had he already forgotten our up-all-night conversation and how he wanted me to stay? I had my answer when he turned and walked down a few steps.
I went to the top of the stairs to look at him. “Am I going to see you again?”
He paused on the landing. “If you want to. Why would you ask me that?”
Why would I ask him that? Besides the fact that he was more inscrutable than the freaking Sphinx? “Most of my relationships never go past the third date.”
As if he’d heard something important in my voice, he walked back up the stairs, deliberately maintaining eye contact with me. When he got to where I stood, I backed up and pressed into the wall. He stood in front of me, not touching me but so close it almost felt like he was. “Considering that it’s four in the morning, I think a new day qualifies as a new date. Which makes it our fourth. And I hear important things happen on fourth dates.” His voice dropped to little more than a whisper with his last sentence, and it made my legs and arms tremble.
Was he joking around, or did he mean something else? Was he thinking of me in a different way?
And then . . . he kissed me.
On the forehead.
Again.
“’Night, Zo.” He whistled softly as he left this time, and I didn’t say anything to stop him. I let myself into my apartment, feeling dazed and thoroughly confused.
As I locked the front door, I wondered whether I needed to invest in a neon sign that I could attach to my forehead that said LIPS DOWN HERE with one of those arrows. I kicked off my shoes and went to the bedroom, fully expecting the third degree from Lexi.
She was in her bed, totally passed out. She hadn’t even noticed I was late coming home. I grabbed an oversize shirt to sleep in and angrily took off my clothes.
Why was he so hard to read? I could almost hear Lexi’s voice in my head saying, “Duh. He’s an actor. You see only what he wants you to see.”
Did he not want to kiss me? Why would he talk about taking me to Ireland when he apparently wasn’t even attracted to me? He really did treat me like I was his annoying kid sister whom he had to let tag along with him. Thing was—he didn’t have to. But he spent time with me anyway.
I considered waking up Lexi to get her advice, but she turned over and started snoring, hugging her pillow with the Chase Covington cover.
I climbed into bed and decided it was beyond sad that my roommate was currently getting more action from Chase than I was.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
So of course when I woke up, the very first thing I did was check my phone. No texts from Chase yet, but there was that tweet. Best night ever. Ha. Only if his definition of “best night” was “Nobody got kissed.”
It was almost noon when I went into the kitchen to get something to eat. Lexi sat on the couch with one of her feet propped up on the coffee table, giving herself a pedicure. “Late night?” she asked with a sly grin.
I growled in response, not ready to talk until I had sustenance. I poured myself a super nutritious bowl of Lucky Charms and sat at our little kitchen table.
She’d lived with me long enough to know that I needed some time in the morning before I turned into a human again. She painted her toenails a bright candy-apple red and hummed a show tune to herself.
I drank the milk right out of the bowl and then put my dishes in the sink. “What does it mean when the guy you’re dating hasn’t tried to kiss you yet?”
“Gay.”
“Just because that happened to you once—”
“Eleven times,” she corrected, applying the polish in short, careful strokes.
“Seriously? Eleven times? Okay, just because that’s happened to you eleven times doesn’t mean that’s what’s happening here. And maybe you should stop dating fellow theater majors.”
She nodded in agreement as I collapsed onto the couch next to her.
“Do you want me to do your nails, too?”
What did it matter? It wasn’t like anybody was going to see them. But I was too tired to move. “’Kay.”
She put my right foot in her lap and used the file. “He really hasn’t kissed you yet? Haven’t you been out a bunch of times?”
“Yes. Apparently I’m too hideous to be kissed.”
“Stop it. That’s not true, and you know it.” Lexi pushed my right foot off, and I swung my left one up for her to file. “You’re assuming it’s because he’s not attracted to you. Which has been the case for me eleven times. But maybe that’s not what’s going on. Maybe it’s intentional. You know when somebody says you can’t have something, and it makes you want it more? By not kissing you, that’s all you’re thinking about now, right? Wondering if it will ever happen. Dying of anticipation. So by the time it does happen, it will be the most amazing thing ever, and you’ll be head over heels for him. Even if he’s not any good at it.”
That sounded a little far-fetched, and Chase didn’t strike me as the devious type. “Do men actually do that?”
“I saw it in a TV movie once, but other than that, I don’t know. Usually they can’t wait to get their lips all over you.” She realized immediately it was the wrong thing to say and shot me a “sorry” expression. “When are you guys going out again?”
“Not for a while. He has to go to—out of town for business. A couple of weeks.”
I switched my foot again, and she applied a base coat of the same red polish she wore. “Maybe that will be good. Give him a chance to miss you. Did he ask you to take him to the airport?”
“No.”
“Too bad. Because that’s a very girlfriend thing to do,” she said, blowing on my nails. She finished my other foot quickly and then separated my toes with those foam inserts. I rested my feet on the coffee table. Lexi picked up her phone, and I felt sorry for myself. “Gavin was supposed to text me. He is my boyfriend, and sometimes I feel like I don’t know where we stand, either.”
I knew she was trying to be sympathetic, but Gavin clearly adored Lexi. Possibly even loved her. She couldn’t have been questioning that.
And I knew from unfortunate firsthand experience that he was definitely attracted to her.
“Well, you know what they say about when life hands you lemons.”
“Make lemonade?” I responded.
“No. You throw that crap b
ack and demand chocolate. Hey, have you seen this?” Lexi asked, handing me her phone. “Chase Covington has himself a new skank du jour.”
I tried to swallow past the knot in my larynx but couldn’t. My ears rang as a metallic taste filled my mouth. Yesterday the potential ramifications of people taking pictures of Chase hadn’t even occurred to me. My concern had been only for his well-being.
But now . . . now, with adrenaline skittering and buzzing through me, I realized how very bad this could be for me. If both my mom and Lexi found out.
The headline of the article read, WHO IS CHASE COVINGTON’S MYSTERY GIRL? Had Lexi recognized me? Was this a test I’d already failed? I glanced up at her, but she was packing up her pedicure tools.
I did a quick image search and found multiple pictures of us. I hadn’t realized at the time that Chase had been shielding me as best he could with his body. You couldn’t see my face in any of the shots. You could see my hands, holding my Mace and ready to spray the crowd down, but that was it.
Because nobody had been trying to take my picture. They’d wanted a picture of him.
“Like Amelia Swan’s not bad enough, now he has secret girlfriends?”
Again, I thought I should tell her. This was the perfect opening.
Only I couldn’t explain it to her until I understood it myself.
Which I most definitely did not.
Chase texted me routinely and tweeted shots of himself on set and in his costume. Nothing spoiler-y, just stuff that made his fans happy.
Then he’d tweet stuff that left me totally confused.
Was that some kind of cryptic clue? He wanted us to eye-kiss first? That presented a problem, given that most of my flirting consisted of awkward eye contact. We’d never get to eye first base.
Or—
Inappropriate thoughts? What, had he imagined us hugging?
The thing was, I seriously missed him. I was okay being on my own. Introverts are like that. I could go long stretches of time without talking to anyone and be fine. I did what I’d done before we met—went to class, babysat the Mendel girls, worked at the Foundation, helped out with my brothers and sisters. But somehow Chase had wormed his way into my heart.
#Starstruck Page 15
