When Stars Burn Out

by Carrie Aarons

  He points at my chin, and I self-consciously swipe at it. “What? Did I get some on me?”

  Laughing, he keeps pointing. “You didn’t get it.”

  “Get it!” I giggle, not wanting it to drip onto my shirt.

  Pax reaches out, his thumb expertly wiping my skin. Pinpricks of lust tingle down my spine, and I bite back a sigh. “See, this is another instance where I would kiss you if I had your permission.”

  I smile, this situation significantly less laden with sexual tension than when we were on the blanket. “You just really want to kiss me, huh?”

  “Yes,” he answers immediately.

  I have to laugh. “How do you even know it will be any good?”

  Pax cocks an eyebrow. “I think we’ve had enough practice for me to know that it would be pretty spectacular.”

  I concede, his hand pulling away once more. I miss the heat of his fingers. “Okay, fine, I think you have me there.”

  “Now stop taunting me and eat your Italian ice,” he huffs, jokingly.

  “Stop being a horndog,” I counter.

  “So, since I’ve seen you, tell me, what has been the most exciting adventure you’ve been on?” He completely changes the subject.

  “Slick, trying to move away from the awkward sexual pink elephant in the room.” I tip my head to him, as if there were a hat on it. “But I’ll bite. I went to Israel with my parents last year for Rosh Hashanah. It was incredible. I mean, I’ve been before, it’s my favorite place on earth, but going during the high holy days was … I don’t even have words for it.”

  He seems genuinely interested in what I’m saying. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s awesome. I’d love to float in the Dead Sea. Or is that a tourist trap?”

  I chuckle. “I mean, it is a tourist trap, but it’s a totally cool tourist trap. The mud makes your skin feel amazing afterward, and you literally cannot sit up in the water. It’s hard to put your feet on the sea floor, that’s how buoyant the human body is in that water. You feel … weightless. Some people think it’s hokey, but I found it … freeing. When I went, I walked miles down the beach, to a spot where almost no one was, and floated for about an hour.”

  We sit on a bench, our treats all but gone. “That sounds very relaxing.”

  “Better than any spa treatment I’ve ever had. But it’s not just that, Israelis have this outlook on life that is just so different from ours. Meals last hours, sometimes days. They’re jovial and celebratory, but fiercely serious on sacred days. It’s just … a different world. And one that I love to be a part of as often as I can be.”

  Pax nods, and I find myself wanting to know what he’s been up to. “How about you? Lots of Vegas trips and flashy nightclubs?”

  He frowns, more at himself than me. “Nope. My best adventure, if you can even call it that, was two years ago when my brother and I rented a house on Lake Michigan for three weeks in the off-season. We just fished and had bonfires in the backyard, listened to country music, drank beers. It was a total dudefest in the middle of nowhere, and it was the best time of my life.”

  I was surprised. I thought he would have said Monaco or Cancun. But instead, he’d detailed a bonding trip with his brother that sounded as modest as a church mouse.

  “That sounds great, very relaxing … but a lot less low-key than I remember you being.”

  He nods, the sun going down in the sky as the time passes. “Well, you have a lot to relearn about me. I liked that trip because I was with family, and it was just simple. No press, no expectations, no fancy suits or need to be on. Now that retirement is on the horizon, that’s what I’m looking forward to the most.”

  “Retirement? You’re so young.” I was confused.

  Paxton smiles. “I find it refreshing that you still know nothing about sports. Anyways, I’m yesterday’s news. A geezer in the eyes of the league. And I’m not going to be one of those athletes who keeps chugging along, even though he and the whole world knows he’s washed up. So, this is my last year. But don’t tell the press, they’ll be all over me like white on rice.”

  I pretend to lock my lips and throw away the key. “I won’t say a thing. Or let anyone know how many corny metaphors you use.”

  Pax rolls his eyes, but those full lips tip up.

  “So, this is it, huh? And what’s next? It’s not like you ever need to work again. And I’m not saying that to find out how much you make, I know it’s enough that you can afford to donate half a million dollars to Ryan’s chemo unit at the children’s hospital.”

  Yeah, I knew about his donation. Ryan’s mother had called me to thank me for introducing Pax into their lives, and she’d told me what he’d done for the hospital that her son had his treatment at. He’d made it without a peep to my company, or the media, or anyone else. That was true giving, and it was one of the reasons why I was giving him a second chance.

  He ignores my comment, choosing not to even brag a little about his donation. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. For so long, my life has been go, go, go. The next workout, the next game, the next season. I’ve starved myself, binged on protein, worked my muscles to the brink, done interviews until my cheeks hurt from fake smiling. I think, honestly, I’m just going to be happy to have some solitary time to myself.”

  I nod, because I understood that. “Alone time is some of my favorite time. I hope you can find that after this season is over.”

  “Well, I didn’t say I wanted to be completely alone.” In a risky move, and without asking, Pax laces his fingers through mine as we walk back toward the parking lot bordering the park.

  “I thought you were going to ask my permission.” I don’t pull my hand away though.

  He shrugs, his fingers in mine feeling like the best thing in the world at this moment. “If I didn’t push you a bit, I’d be stuck in the friend zone for the next however many years and this old geezer doesn’t have that kind of time.”

  I rolled my eyes for the thousandth time on this date, but shifted my hand so that it nestled closer to his. And I didn’t let go until he opened my car door and told me good night.

  Seventeen

  Paxton

  Nine Years Ago

  The pins crashing against the hardwood of the lane rang out through the entire bowling alley, and Jamison patted himself on the back as he walked back to our table.

  “Take that, motherfuckers.” His big body, that of an outside linebacker, squeezed into the booth.

  A few of the girls squealed, and two empty beer bottles tipped over. The end of the lane was littered with people, shoes, and drinks, making it difficult to move. We occupied almost half of Bowl-O-Rama, the football team having had the great idea to take over the local spot because we were bored with the downtown bars on the weekend. And we were all competitive as hell, so there was that.

  With us came other guys friends, groupies, actual girlfriends, and other groups of college students who had heard we were taking over and just wanted to be a part of something.

  I sat in the middle of it all, Demi under my arm, ruling roost amongst my teammates. “You piece of shit, you’re not going to beat me.”

  I sent a cocky smile across the sticky booth we were all crowded in, and a couple of the guys raised a beer to me.

  “Your team ain’t shit, Shaw,” he rumbled, slamming a shot back.

  Looking up at the scoreboard overhead, we were down by only ten points in the last frame. And Demi was up.

  “Go get ’em, baby.” I kissed her on the cheek, and she stood, myself and a couple other pairs of eyes staring at her ass.

  Fuck, she was hot. We had been hooking up for a long time on and off, but lately, we’d been more on than any other time. So on, in fact, that I’d driven her here tonight and had spent most of the night trying to stick my hands down the waistband of her jeans.

  She seemed a little bit shocked, and maybe uncomfortable, by all the public displays of affection. But, what could I say? Football season was over, we’d won a cha
mpionship, and I had drank about five beers. I was happy, and horny, and she was a good lay. And she wasn’t bad to talk to, as far as indulging in conversation with women went.

  Demi picked up the ball she’d been using, the look of concentration on her face kind of cute. She wasn’t half bad at bowling, and I was glad I’d picked her to bring tonight instead of some other girl. When she’d given me an ultimatum a few months back, to either be with her exclusively or never talk to her again, I’d given in. We hadn’t tried it yet, and while I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend at all, I could do the whole monogamy without a title thing for a little. Or, at least, I could try.

  It had its perks, mainly the consistent, mind-blowing sex, but I had my whole life to settle down. And for a guy like me, I had my pick of girls like I had number of flavors available in an ice cream shop. Endless possibilities.

  “Dude, your girlfriend is fine. Like, if you want to Eiffel Tower, I’d be down.” Our wide receiver, Nathan, sits down next to me.

  “One, she’s not my girlfriend.” I chug the rest of my beer. “Two, I don’t share. You wanna see another guy’s dick in the bedroom, ask Jamison.”

  Jamison chuckles. “Man, you’re missing out. Tag-teaming is fucking fun.”

  Demi turns around, waving slightly before lining up to bowl. She has no idea what we’re talking about, and her cheeks would probably turn bright red if she did. That’s another thing I liked about her, that sweet innocence that was still so prominent even after how I’d tarnished her.

  “And if she isn’t your girlfriend, you don’t mind if we take a ride.” Nathan was goading me, just like the rest of the guys on the team.

  It was an unspoken rule that Demi was mine, but I’d never explicitly staked claim. I didn’t want to date her, but I sure wanted to fuck her. And what I wanted, I got without questions. Keep your star player happy.

  But since we’d gone exclusive, at least when it came to me not sticking my cock in other girls, the guys had a bet going of when I’d actually introduce her as my girlfriend.

  I was in on the bet, a hundred bucks put on the outcome that I’d never actually put a title on it.

  “Don’t get cocky, Nathan. Plus, a girl like Demi would never go for you in a million years.” I smiled at him.

  “Yeah, not when she sucks homeboy’s dick whenever he snaps his fingers.” Jamison snickers.

  A pang of grief moves through me, because I’m being an asshole talking like this about the girl who really does like me when she’s only a few feet away, but I have to keep up appearances. I’m Big Bad Paxton Shaw.

  Demi bowls, the ball curving a bit but straightening out halfway down the lane. It rolls and rolls, finally hitting the pins and knocking them all down.

  She whirls around with a high-pitched squeal, throwing her hands up in the air so that her crop top rides up even farther. Bouncing over to me, I stand to catch her.

  “We won!” she cries out as she jumps into me, and I catch her in one strong arm.

  “You did it, that’s my girl,” I whisper, a growl vibrating into her ear.

  She shivers, and I know I have her. I know I can ask her to do anything in this moment, and she’ll do it no questions asked.

  Eighteen

  Demi

  “I want to see the new case files.”

  My heels clack along the tile floors of our office, my staff in various stages of work. Justin is on the phone, arranging flights for one of our families. Gina was arranging marketing material and coordinating some press for a couple of events we would be attending.

  And I was trying to fulfill the wishes of every child who applied to our nonprofit. I made it back to my desk, after one of my employees handed me four files, and laid them out in front of me. One was a little girl with Lupus, who wanted to travel to the American Girl Store in New York City. Another boy, a teenager with stage three leukemia, wished to go backstage at a Walk the Moon concert. And so on. The wishes never stopped, and neither did these terrible illnesses that I wished I could stop.

  I wish there was more time, for them. But if there couldn’t be, I would create more time for myself. To grant each dream, to give them some sort of semblance of normalcy.

  By the time I looked up, it was an hour and a half later. And lunchtime, which I often skipped.

  As if reading my mind, Farrah walked in with takeout bags. “You know, if you don’t eat, you’ll just be useless at your job.”

  I wipe a hand across my brow, my stomach grumbling. “That’s not true. One day I just drank about three pots of coffee, and I arranged for seven wishes.”

  “I think that’s called being cracked out. Please, take a few minutes and eat.” She doesn’t give me a choice, just starts laying sushi containers out on top of the files on my desk.

  “So, you haven’t wanted to go to the bar lately, huh?”

  Her voice has an edge of already knowing something, and I feel like I’m walking into a trap.

  It’s been two weeks since Paxton’s misleading setup in the park, and since then I haven’t been out to a happy hour with Farrah. Instead, the man who hadn’t ever called me back in college, was calling and texting me almost every second of the day. It was like he was overcompensating for all the times he’d done me wrong … and I couldn’t say that I didn’t enjoy it.

  “I just haven’t felt up to going out recently,” I lie through my teeth.

  No one knows about Paxton yet, not that we were together in college and not that we’re … dating, I guess, now. Technically, it’s only been two dates. One in the park and another dinner last week. He’d walked me to my car, I’d insisted on driving separately, and he hadn’t kissed me. It was both maddening and cute that he wanted me to approve it.

  “Try again.” She shoves a piece of spicy tuna roll in her mouth.

  “Excuse me?” I start to sweat.

  Farrah shoots me a look like I’ve been caught red handed. “You’re blushing more. You look at your phone every ten seconds during the day. And I haven’t heard one of your ‘I’m better off alone’ speeches in a while. You’re dating someone, I just know it.”

  But did she know who? It didn’t seem like it, so I pondered how to answer. I kind of wanted to talk to someone about it, and since I couldn’t call Chels because she would slaughter me, Farrah was my next best choice.

  “You caught me.” I held my chopsticks up.

  She laughed and pointed her finger at me. “I knew it! You’re so getting laid!”

  I looked down, shaking my head. “Actually, I’m so not.”

  Farrah gives me a pointed look, her eyes slanting. “Please explain.”

  Sighing, I fill her in without telling her it’s Paxton. “I’m seeing this guy that … I have a past with. It’s super complicated, and I mean with a capital C. It’s like when you knot your favorite necklace into a thousand tangles and know you want to wear it, but can’t seem to figure out how.”

  Farrah nods. “I fucking hate when that happens.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what is happening. And I like him, really like him … but, I feel like it’s too good to be true.”

  Her face lights up and her mouth forms a big O. “Since I’ve known you, since I’ve been working here from the day you hired me five years ago, you’ve only had history with one guy. Are you dating Zachary?!”

  I chuckle, because if only she knew how much I wished I could be completely happy dating my ex-fiancé. “No, it’s not him.”

  Her face grows solemn. “So this is him, then?”

  Panic seizes me, because maybe she does know that I’m seeing Pax. “Who?”

  “The guy who fucked you up so royally that you’re no longer a whole person.”

  It was blunt, so hard in its delivery that it was like a gunshot to my heart. Was I that broken, that deeply broken, that it showed in my every day interactions?

  “How …?” I was so shocked she’d said that, that I almost couldn’t form words.

  She sighed, setting down the piece of
sushi she was about to eat. That was Farrah though, bluntly honest to form, so matter of fact that sometimes it was icy.

  “Demi, besides Zachary, which I could see was doomed from the start, you’ve never dated one guy in the five years I’ve known you. I never said anything, because I wouldn’t want to be bothered about my past or love life and so I don’t do it to others, but you were fucking damaged. You couldn’t talk to a guy without a frown on your face by the end, and your trust issues extend into friendships as well. Did you know it took almost two years for you to actually accept an invite to drinks with me?”

  I hadn’t, and that was sad. “I need to do this.”

  Resuming her eating, she stuffed a roll in her mouth. “I know you do. If it allows you closure, I’m all for it. If you fall in love, if this is really your one, then you fucking deserve it. Like I said, I’ve never felt your aura be this happy.”

  I choked on a piece of salmon at her use of such a homeopathic kind of diagnosis. “I wasn’t aware you could read auras.”

  She nodded vigorously. “Oh yes, and yours is deep orange right now. That relates to the reproductive organs and emotions … means you’re having vigorous energy and creativity now with a dash of adventure and courage.”

  I stare at her, dumbfounded. “I’m not even going to ask where you learned that.”

  “Good idea. Now, would you stop bragging about your love life and let me get back to work.” Farrah rolls her eyes like she didn’t just ambush my office and force me to open up.

  I laugh, throwing a file across my desk. “Let’s try to make this wish happen.”

  Nineteen

  Paxton

  One of the most important things I’d learned from my time in the league, and just from playing football in general, was to go after everything you wanted with a vigor that would not take no for an answer.

  In every contract negotiation, I went in with a clear head and my terms, exactly how I wanted them. I’d never been turned down or given less than what I’d asked for.