And I wanted him to come back home to California.
His girl? Just an expression, or did he think of me as his girl?
I probably should have just womanned up and asked him outright. But frustrated as I was, I didn’t want to lose whatever we had. And some part of me feared that if I pressed him, tried to force him to define the relationship, he’d define it as a friendship, and we’d be done.
I also did tweet some posts that were meant for him.
He liked that tweet, and I noticed I had, like, forty new followers. All Chasers. Probably because of how often he liked what I tweeted.
About a week in, I had plans to go to my mother’s for Sunday dinner. As I got ready, he sent me a text that made my heart slam against my rib cage.
It was hard to type a reply as my fingers kept fumbling.
My phone rang a second later. It was him.
“You’re super funny,” I told him.
“I know.”
“It’s all fun and games until somebody doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm,” I said while slipping on my shoes.
“I’m sending you something. It should be there tomorrow or the day after.”
“It better not be a car.”
I could almost hear him rolling his eyes. “It’s not a car. It’s a script. My agent sent it over. It’s about a high-functioning teenage boy with autism whose parents die in an accident, and he’s sent to the East Coast to live with his aunt. He wants to go home, so he walks back to Idaho. It’s about how he survives, the people he comes into contact with, having his first kiss, that sort of thing. I want your opinion on it.”
I shut my front door and hurried down the stairs. “Why? I don’t know anything about scripts.”
“But you like movies, and you’re familiar with my acting.”
“That doesn’t make me qualified.” I put my car into reverse and tried to steer while talking to him. Realizing I wasn’t being safe, I put the phone on speaker and set it down.
“It does. They’re considering Ryan Hofstead for the role.”
Ryan Hofstead was one of those beef hunks who had risen to fame in a franchise based on a YA vampire book. To say he was a talentless hack would be insulting to talentless hacks. He literally had two expressions but somehow kept being cast as the lead in movies.
“He would butcher this part.”
“Probably. After you’ve read it, give me a call and tell me if you think I should do it.”
Didn’t he have a manager and a publicist and an agent for this kind of stuff? Even One-F was probably far more qualified to give Chase professional advice. Honestly, I didn’t even need to read the script. I couldn’t let Ryan Hofstead stink up another movie, given that his relationship with subtlety was strained at best.
“When it comes, I’ll read it. And let you know what I think. Anyway, I need to go. I’m heading over to my mom’s for dinner.”
“Cool. Be sure to give Zia a kiss from me.”
Oh, sure. Zia got kisses. And I got scripts.
“I will.” I gripped the steering wheel tightly, willing myself to be strong and tell him something true and honest, like he wanted. Put myself out there. Maybe he’d return the favor. “And Chase? I miss you.”
I hung up the phone before he could reply, too scared of his reaction. My phone buzzed. I didn’t know if it was a tweet or a message. I didn’t check until I got to my mother’s.
Zia tumbled out of the front door, holding out her arms for me. I picked her up and gave her a big kiss on her baby cheek. “That’s from Chase.”
“I love Cheese,” she said, hugging my neck.
“I know you do.”
“He comes sees me?”
I carried her inside and put her down on the hall floor. “Maybe. I want him to come see me, too.”
That seemed to satisfy her, and she toddled off. I got out my phone. I had a new text.
Although I hadn’t had the chance to hear his reply, I got to read it.
The next day was Gavin’s birthday. He and Lexi had made plans to go to the fanciest restaurant in town, La Bella Vita. It was only three o’clock in the afternoon, but Lexi had started getting ready.
“It’s so unfair. He’ll take a shower and shave while I have to do all this.” She gestured to her body, then went back to putting her hair in curlers.
“At least he’ll appreciate it.”
“He will. Hey, did I tell you I ran into Ron on campus today?” Ron was this cheating jerk Lexi had dated for about three weeks until she’d caught him on a date with another girl. “He had the audacity to tell me I’d made a mistake breaking up with him because I’d never find anyone like him again. I was all, ‘That’s the point, moron!’”
Before I could agree with her, the doorbell rang. I knew it couldn’t be Gavin yet, and we weren’t expecting anyone else. I looked through the peephole and saw a huge bouquet of flowers. “Lexi! I think there’s a present for you!”
I opened the door, and the delivery man smiled at me. “I’m looking for Zoe Miller.”
“That’s me,” I said in shock because he was holding a vase of white roses bigger than our TV.
“Can you sign for these?” He handed me a pad, and I gave him my signature. He had a manila envelope clamped under his arm and gave that to me. I was surprised at how heavy the vase was when he put it in my hands.
“Thanks!” I said. I’d never gotten flowers before.
“That’s not all. I’ll be right back.”
If that delivery dude came back with car keys, Chase was in trouble. I set the flowers down on the kitchen table just as Lexi entered the room. “Are those for me? Gavin’s not supposed to send me gifts on his birthday!”
“Actually, they’re for me.” I opened the card with my name on it and read.
I didn’t know what you liked.
There was a soft knock at the door, and the delivery man carried in two more giant bouquets of flowers. One was purple tiger lilies, and the other was bright-yellow sunflowers. I told him to put them in the kitchen and noticed he wasn’t alone. Two other men followed behind him, carrying tulips and daffodils and daisies and other flowers I didn’t recognize but were beautiful.
They had to make one more trip to bring all the flowers inside. We were running out of places to put them.
“Does your man have a trust fund?” Lexi asked in awe, deeply breathing in the scent of the roses.
“He could.” Not technically a lie. Chase could have family money beyond his acting earnings.
“Why can’t more men be romantic like this?”
I was only half paying attention, overwhelmed at the gesture. “Mormons can’t be romantic?”
“No, I said more men. Not Mormons.”
“Your boyfriend is very romantic.”
“I know.” There was a wistfulness in her tone. “But nobody’s ever bought out a flower shop for me.”
Nobody ever had for me, either. But Lexi already knew that.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, catching my expression. “I’m super happy for you. But a tiny bit jealous, too.”
“Makes sense.” It was how I’d felt about Lexi for most of our lives. “I’ve got some reading I need to do.”
“And I’ve got some painful waxing I need to do.”
I took the manila envelope into our room and slid the script out. The front said Spectrum. The pages were the color of goldenrod, and I opened it and began to read. At first it took some getting used to, with phrases like INT.—RICK’S ROOM and camera directions, but once I understood it, it was almost like reading a book. I could see all of it in my head.
The second I finished, I jumped up and shut the bedroom door so Lexi wouldn’t hear me call Chase.
He answered on the second ring. “Hey.” His voice was warm and so clear it made me miss him all over again.
“Thank you for the flowers. They’re amazing, and I absolutely love them, and nobody’s ever done anything like that for me before. And you have to make this mo
vie. You are going to kill it and win every award in the entire universe.”
“Even the Martian Academy Awards?”
“Especially that one.”
“You liked the flowers?”
“Liked them? Cartwheels might have been involved.”
“I wish I’d been there to see that.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I didn’t know which ones were your favorite.”
I lay back on my bed. “Pink tulips are my favorite. My grandmother always had them at the house. She said they reminded her of Pennsylvania. They took a lot of work. Like, she had to keep them in the fridge before she planted them. But she thought it was worth it. So did I.”
“Noted. Speaking of things we weren’t talking about, a good friend of mine is getting married this Saturday. Would you like to go with me?”
“To a wedding?” My question ended in a squeak. “Isn’t that more of a girlfriend kind of event? For people who are dating?”
He stayed quiet for so long I thought we’d lost the connection. “What do you think we’ve been doing here?”
“You keep calling it hanging out. I thought that’s all it was. If you feel differently, that’s news to me.”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “This is more of an in-person conversation. I’ve been putting in extra hours so we can finish early. We should be done shooting by Friday evening, and I plan on being home by Saturday afternoon. I can send a car to pick you up. What do you say?”
A whole week earlier than I’d thought? My heart twirled around inside my chest, deliriously happy. “Okay. I’ll see you on Saturday.”
My first fizzy, thrilled thought after we hung up was, Yes! Chase thinks we’re dating!
And my second overwhelming, intimidating thought was, Oh no! Chase thinks we’re dating.
He would have expectations.
I was seriously out of my depth.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Chase tweeted that early this morning and then followed it with a text to me that said:
After my heart stopped racing and all my goose bumps went away, I realized what the problem was. His words didn’t match his actions. He flirted, said hot things, claimed he was interested.
But everything in his body language, how he kept me at a distance physically, told me the exact opposite.
It wasn’t a problem I could have solved right then, so I just focused on getting ready for his friend’s wedding. Chase’s text had settled deep in my stomach, causing an ache and light-headedness that made me more than a bit accident prone.
I’d told Lexi I had a date for a wedding, and she practically shook with excitement. “That is huge! He’s claiming you in front of the entire world!”
I wanted to believe her, but her optimism only made things worse. I dropped makeup brushes more than once and almost burned Lexi with a curling iron when she was helping me put up my hair.
“Careful! Don’t brand me with that thing. You must really like this guy. I’ve never seen you so clumsy. You are completely and totally twitterpated.”
If only she knew how on the nose her proclamation was, given that Chase and I had met on Twitter.
Because I didn’t own anything fancy enough to wear to a formal wedding with a movie star, I enlisted Lexi’s help. She got on the phone to every single female friend she’d ever had and tracked down the perfect dress for me. It was pale silvery-gray chiffon, and the bodice and three-quarter sleeves were made out of sheer fabric with matching gray lace overlay to cover everything important. The skirt swished when I moved. The bodice was a bit too big for me, but Lexi used her years spent in theaters to discreetly stitch it into place. “This color makes your eyes pop. I can take the stitches out when you get home, and Joslyn will never even notice. Just don’t take it off.”
Ha. Fat chance of that.
She went through my shoes until she found a pair of fancy high heels with delicate silver straps I’d never even worn. Shoes she’d practically forced me to buy two years ago because they were on clearance and in my size, a rare occurrence. “Aha! I knew I hadn’t imagined these beauties.”
“These are going to kill my feet. I’ve never worn them before.”
“Didn’t anybody teach you that you have to suffer to be beautiful? That’s what Epsom salts and warm water are for.”
Lexi insisted on helping me pick the perfect lipstick shade from her vast collection of pink tackle boxes. And then she touched up my mascara. And added a bit more blush. Until I got annoyed, and she backed off. “Okay, okay. I’m done. And might I just add, you are smoking hot.”
The only way I’d ever be smoking hot is if I were cremated, but I loved her for saying it.
At least somebody thought I was hot.
“I have a cute silver clutch you can borrow, if you want. I’ll be right back.”
There was a knock at the front door, and for a brief moment I panicked, thinking it was Chase. But he said he’d send a car for me. The driver? I rushed to the front door, determined to get there before Lexi.
It turned out to be Gavin. He let out a low whistle. “You clean up nice, Miller. You are going to give that guy from work a heart attack.”
Lexi ran into the room and leaped into Gavin’s arms to shower his face with kisses. “What are you doing here?”
“I was hungry, and I remembered you also sometimes eat food, and I thought we could check out that new Brazilian steakhouse.”
Her mood shifted from happy and excited to annoyed and let down. Probably because of her new cleanse that didn’t allow protein. “Ugh, you know I’m not eating anything with a face for the next two weeks.”
“They cut that off before they bring it to you,” he said, taking his customary spot on the couch and getting out his phone. He and Lexi went back and forth, suggesting names of restaurants, but they couldn’t decide on a good compromise.
Lexi got on my laptop, which I’d left on the kitchen counter, and opened a browser window. I expected her to look for more restaurants, but instead she did a search for “Chase Covington.”
“Hey, look at that.” She pointed at the screen. “Chase’s friend Austin Adams is getting married today, too. Chase is supposed to be one of his groomsmen. I hope somebody publishes the pictures. Because, seriously, how hot is Chase?” Her voice rose with the last sentence, making it obvious that her observation was for Gavin’s benefit.
“Depends on what you use to ignite him with,” Gavin replied, not the least bit fazed.
“It’s good to make them a little jealous,” she whispered to me. “You don’t want them to forget how good they have it.” Given her boyfriend’s lack of response, I didn’t think her plan had worked.
My phone buzzed, and it was a text from an unknown number. “Looks like my ride is here.”
“Here’s the clutch. Take this lip gloss so you can reapply, and I want to lend you these.” She held out a pair of diamond solitaire earrings that had once belonged to her mother.
“Lexi, I can’t. What if I lose them?”
“You won’t. Every girl needs a little bit of sparkle when she gets dressed up.”
Knowing Lexi would not take no for an answer, I accepted and put them on. Then I transferred everything I needed from my regular purse—keys, tissues, lip gloss, a couple of credit cards, driver’s license, some cash, and my cell phone.
And a tin of mints. Because apparently I was a glutton for disappointment.
I said my goodbyes and headed downstairs, where a chauffeur in a suit waited for me. He opened the rear door of the black town car to let me in. After he greeted me, he said, “There’s been a change of plans, and I’m going to drive you directly to the wedding.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” The driver shut the door behind me after I’d carefully climbed in.
Chase had said he’d have the driver take me to his house and we’d head to the wedding together. I got my phone out, intending to text him and ask what was going on, and I saw his last text again.
That same shivery, warm,
delicious ache started all over again.
I so wanted him to be serious. For this to be a real thing and not something I’d blown way out of proportion.
Although the thought of making him burn scared me just a little.
Because if Chase burned, I knew I’d be consumed.
I knew some details about the wedding because I’d looked it up. Austin Adams had met Chase on No More, No Less, where he’d played Chase’s next-door neighbor. His part got bigger and bigger as the showrunners realized how much talent he had and how much the audience loved him. He had stayed on television, easily transitioning from child to adult actor.
His bride to be, Marisol, was a makeup artist on his most recent show, a medical drama that had been on the air for about five years. The entertainment magazines kept calling this a “Cinderella wedding” because the bride wasn’t famous.
The wedding and reception were being held at Austin’s Malibu estate. I had to pass through several checkpoints before I arrived at his home, a classic Spanish revival with white stucco walls and a red tile roof. We inched our way through the line until it was my turn to get out. My driver (whose name was Jeff with two Fs) opened my door, and I was immediately inside a canvas tunnel that led from the driveway to the front door. It dawned on me that they had constructed it so nobody could see who the guests were. I hadn’t seen any paparazzi, but I knew what long-range lenses could do.
At the end of the tunnel, I had to give my name again and show my ID, and then I was inside, surrounded by so many celebrities it felt like I was playing a game of Movie Star Whack-A-Mole. They kept popping up all over the place. It was like I’d accidentally crashed the high school cool kids’ party, and they all knew one another, but nobody knew who I was or why I was there. I kind of wanted to call my mom and ask her to pick me up.
A waiter in a tuxedo with a white jacket offered me a glass of champagne, and I took it so I would have something to do with my hands. I’d never really liked alcohol, and in high school I’d observed that getting blackout drunk wasn’t very conducive to staying celibate.
#Starstruck Page 16
