#Starstruck

by Wilson, Sariah

  Oh, I didn’t know about that. Even if the baby had woken up, Mission Get Chase Out of the House had gone very well.

  Until my favorite little saboteur took her thumb out of her mouth long enough to say, “Zo-Zo’s boyfrien’ is Cheese.”

  Icy panic gripped my throat, making it impossible to respond. How did she even know that word? It wasn’t like I’d ever had boyfriends.

  “Good choice,” my mom whispered as she gently rocked Zia to sleep. “My boyfriend is brick-oven-style pizza.”

  “No,” Zia said, sounding fully awake. “Mommy’s boyfrien’ is Daddy.”

  I couldn’t see her, but I felt my mother go still and heard her choke back a sob. Her voice was thick with emotion when she replied, “That’s right. Daddy will always be Mommy’s boyfriend.”

  Zia’s words affected me, too, like a punch in the gut. Duncan had been my stepfather for ten years and had been such a good man and a good father. The only one I’d ever known. I tried not to think about how much I missed him.

  “Hey, I gotta head back to school,” I told my mom, my chest feeling tight, my voice rough. I briefly wondered whether Chase had left or if I’d run into him in the front yard.

  “Thank you so much,” she said as she sat in the rocking chair, trying to soothe Zia. “And I hate to do to this you, but Shelly’s aunt is still sick, and she canceled Saturday, too. Would you mind? I’m working from eleven to seven.”

  I planned on meeting with a study group then, but I could reschedule. Family first. “Yeah. Of course. See you on Saturday.”

  I hurried outside before Zia could rat me out further.

  As I put on my seat belt and started up my car, I glanced in my rearview mirror. It was then that I realized what had happened, and I let out a groan.

  After all that, Chase had forgotten his tux.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The next morning before class, I texted Chase to remind him about the forgotten tuxedo he said he had to have that night.

  A second later my phone rang. I considered making him wait, picking up on the fourth ring so I wouldn’t seem too eager.

  Instead, I answered immediately. “Hey.”

  “Hey. Sorry about leaving that tux last night. But somebody was shoving me out a window.”

  “I did not shove. I forcefully encouraged.” His phone sounded crackly. “Where are you?”

  “I’m running in Runyon Canyon. Want to join me?”

  Running? That probably meant he was shirtless, right? And that his muscles flexed as he ran, and the sweat probably made his chest glisten in the sun . . . I told my mind to knock it off.

  Shoving my laptop into my book bag, I switched my phone from my left ear to my right. “No, thanks. I’m allergic to running.”

  “What?”

  “Last time I ran, my skin was all flushed, my heart raced, I got sweaty and short of breath. I looked my symptoms up online, and the Internet diagnosed them as an allergic reaction.”

  “If that’s true, then I’m allergic to a lot of very fun, enjoyable things.”

  Did he ever not flirt? I was glad he couldn’t see how much he made me blush.

  “So anyway, about your tuxedo . . .”

  “Right! I’m having some people over for a business lunch today, but we should be done about one thirty. Would you mind bringing it by then?”

  My last class would be done at noon, giving me plenty of time to eat and then drive his tux over. “I can do that.”

  “Do you have my address?”

  I remembered he lived in the Hollywood Hills and that One-F had e-mailed me Chase’s address and security codes. “Yep. One-F is very thorough.”

  “Just let yourself in when you get there. See you soon.”

  I made myself some toast and headed off to campus. As I walked along the busy main street toward the crosswalk, I wondered whether the tuxedo thing had been deliberate. Like a girl who left her scarf in a guy’s apartment so he’d have to call her again.

  But in Chase’s defense, and as he’d pointed out, I was the one who had all but shoved him out a window.

  This one was probably on me.

  Gorgeous wouldn’t do the Hollywood Hills justice. There were tall, leafy trees (not the palm trees I was used to) and well-manicured greenery everywhere I looked—and beautiful mansions built on ledges of hills. I wondered which one was Chase’s.

  When I got to his neighborhood, a line of cars was waiting. I saw a gate and a guard. One-F hadn’t mentioned that. The Porsches, Ferraris, and Bentleys in front of me were waved through, but the guard stopped me in my ancient Honda Civic.

  “May I have your name, miss?” If someone asked you to imagine a security guard, you’d probably think of some old grizzled man or a middle-aged guy with a huge gut. But this very in-shape good-looking man bore a striking resemblance to Chris Pratt.

  Then again, Chase was so rich that for all I knew the guard actually was Chris Pratt. “Name, please?”

  “Zoe Miller.”

  He did something on his tablet and then asked, “May I see your ID?”

  My stomach twisted. I had a bad feeling for some reason. Memories of my poli-sci professor, a former ACLU lawyer, turning red in the face as he screamed that we weren’t required to turn over our identification to anyone flitted through my head, and I wondered what the guard would do if I said no. He’d probably call Chase down to his phone-booth office, which would be embarrassing. I was supposed to be assisting Chase, not making his life harder. I reluctantly gave my driver’s license to Parallel Universe Chris Pratt.

  He input some information and then handed it back to me. “Thank you, Miss Miller. Do you know how to get to Mr. Covington’s house?”

  One-F must have put me on a list. “I have directions on my phone. Thanks.” I considered telling him how much I loved him in Guardians of the Galaxy but decided against it.

  The guard pushed a button, and the wrought-iron gate slowly retracted. As I drove past, the neighborhood around me got even more beautiful. Lush, emerald-green, perfectly manicured lawns were visible between hedges and trees, as were flowers in every color. I saw fountains and mini waterfalls and caught glimpses of massive white mansions.

  I definitely wasn’t in Kansas anymore. I mean, I loved my quaint beach town, but this was like another universe.

  My GPS indicated that I had arrived at Chase’s house. I couldn’t see anything but bushes and trees surrounding the driveway. I entered the code on a keypad near the gate, and as the heavy doors swung in, I started up the steep incline.

  The driveway curved, and suddenly his house was visible. It appeared as if by magic. “House” wasn’t right. I should say the glass-and-white-stone mansion that ate other houses for breakfast appeared.

  I got out of my car, unable to imagine anybody could own something this beautiful. The front of the house was white stone with huge windows and several balconies, and from this angle I could see that the back of his house was almost entirely made of glass. An infinity pool on the left side of the backyard sparkled in the sunlight, and it looked as if you would just fall off the hillside if you swam to the edge. I understood why Chase had all the large windows. The view from here was one of the most breathtaking I’d ever seen.

  Speaking of breathtaking, I drew in a long breath, trying to calm the knot in my stomach. I walked up his steps and realized the soft breeze carried the scent of lilacs. I faltered at the door, trying to decide if I should knock or just let myself in like he’d said I could.

  The decision was taken out of my hands when he opened the door and beamed at me. “Hi, Zoe. Come on in.”

  I wondered how he had known I was there until I saw a small camera pointed at the door. The front foyer was all white tile and high ceilings, with a massive modern chandelier overhead.

  “In case you were wondering, that’s how you greet people when they come to your home,” he said with a smile, shutting the front door behind me. “See how I didn’t slam the door on you?”

  “Ha
ha.”

  Chase hesitated as if he wanted to do something he couldn’t bring himself to do. He shoved his hands in his pockets instead. “Come and meet some of my friends.”

  I followed behind Chase, afraid to touch anything or breathe wrong. I didn’t know much about art, but it looked like I would have to sell an organ if I somehow wrecked any of the vases or paintings.

  We walked into an open family room that was next to a massive kitchen with an eat-in dining area. “Zoe, I want to introduce you to Benjy, Kevin, and Chan. We’re talking about a project we’re hoping to do next year. But we just wrapped everything up, and I was about to walk everyone out.”

  My jaw hit the floor so hard my face should have ached. Standing around his dining room table were Batman, Silent Bob, and Magic Mike.

  They said hello to me, nodded, and waved, and when I couldn’t answer, they returned their attention to Chase. I just stood there with his dry cleaning in my arms as they walked out, talking to one another and promising to be in touch soon.

  I heard Chase bid them goodbye and close the door. When he came back into the family room, I said, “That . . . that . . .”

  “So you’re starstruck for them but not for me?” he teased as he went into his kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Water without vicious ice cubes? Milk that’s not meant for toddlers? I even had my housekeeper, Sofia, pick up some apple juice boxes so you’d feel more at home.”

  “I’m good. Thanks.” Now that the shock of meeting his “friends” had worn off, I could finally take in my surroundings. As expected, the view was unencumbered and amazing. There was a massive deck with a hammock, outdoor couches and chairs, and an actual fireplace. The decor inside his home was all white, gray, and steel. There was no question a man lived here. His kitchen looked like the kind you’d see on TV. Glittery stone countertops, white cabinets that went almost to the ceiling, and stainless-steel appliances that seemed brand new. I could just imagine the kind of desserts I could whip up in a place this beautiful, and it took all my restraint not to invade the pantry and start pulling out ingredients.

  “I’ll take those.” Chase put out his hands for his clothing and then threw it over the back of one of his white couches.

  “I thought lime green was your favorite color,” I said, dazzled by his pale-gray glass fireplace that went all the way up to the top of the cathedral ceiling.

  “Lime green?” he repeated with his mouth twisted to one side. “Why would you think that?”

  How did you say to someone, Because that’s what you said in a March 2009 article in Seventeen magazine that I still have memorized?

  “I thought I read it in an interview once.” It was supposed to be the color of my bridesmaid dress. I knew I hadn’t imagined it.

  “Not true. Just about everything I’ve ever said in an interview that was personal was a lie. I want to show you something.”

  “Do we have to have the sexual harassment talk again?” I joked.

  Chase flashed me a wicked grin before heading for the floor-to-ceiling windows. He pushed open the sliding glass doors that slid in both directions until there was no wall between his family room and the outside. He sat down on an expensive-looking wicker lounge chair with dark-blue cushions. He patted the chair next to him, and I took a seat.

  “This is such a gorgeous view.”

  He had brought out an energy drink, and he popped it open. “It never gets old. You should see it at night, with the city all lit up.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, but it wasn’t awkward. Instead, it felt relaxing and comfortable. Or it was until Chase turned to look at me with an intensity and longing in his eyes that reminded me of our encounter in my mother’s kitchen, which made my skin break out in goose bumps.

  “Why do you lie in interviews?” I asked, desperate to think about something else besides wanting him to kiss me.

  “When you’re in the public eye, people think they have a right to know everything about you. I realized I was already giving them so much of myself that I wanted to keep some things just for me and the people I care about. Which means that whenever they ask something personal, I make up an answer.”

  “Thanks for letting me know you’re a liar and I shouldn’t trust you,” I teased. “Better to find out now, I suppose.”

  “I try to be an honest person. But realistically? Lying’s kind of my profession. I pretend for a living. Right now, with you? Is this an interview? Are you going to publish or post anything I tell you?”

  “No. Of course not.” I hadn’t so far. That had to count for something.

  “Right. You’ve already proved that. Which is why I’ve been overly honest with you.” He sat up, turned his legs toward me, and leaned forward. “I promise you I’ll never lie to you. Ask me any question you want, and I’ll always tell you the truth. As long as you promise to do the same.”

  “Okay.” Where that came from, I could not tell you. Trust wasn’t really my strong suit.

  “Then my favorite color is indigo blue. Although I’m starting to feel a little partial to gray with flecks of green and gold.”

  He was talking about my eyes. There was no way I could keep my blush in check, and I had to avert my gaze so it wouldn’t get worse. I could go full cherry tomato with enough teasing.

  Chase seemed to sense my unease and casually asked (as if he hadn’t just done some mad flirting), “My turn to ask a question. What is up with that picture I saw in your parents’ bedroom?”

  No way to get out of this one. And I’d just promised to be truthful. “You mean the one with my mother on the hood of a Camaro? She’s the girl from the Black Serpent video.” Black Serpent was one of those big-hair rock bands that faded away in the early 1990s, and that particular group was famous for its one-hit wonder.

  Recognition dawned on his face. “That was your mom?”

  “Yep. We’re all super proud.”

  Not picking up on my sarcasm, Chase said, “I saw her at the MTV Video Awards when I was, like, ten. Black Serpent had reunited for one night to perform, and they lowered an actual Camaro from the ceiling with your mother on it. The crowd went nuts.”

  My entire life people had been trying to show me that clip on YouTube. “I’ve heard all about it, but I haven’t seen it. Or the videos. There’s just some things you don’t want to see your parents doing.”

  “I get that. My mom wants me to watch her show, but I’m not up for scouring my retinas after I see her in a love scene.” Chase’s mother was the star of a long-running daytime soap opera, one of the last few still left on the air. She’d joined the show as a teenager and had been the star ever since. Her character was never without romance and a leading man.

  “I’ve never had to worry about love scenes, but not for lack of trying. My mom wanted to be famous more than anything. She left home and lied about her age. She was fifteen when she filmed that. She fell in love with the director of the video. My biological father.” It had been a long time since I’d said that out loud. “He wasn’t interested in having a kid, and once he bailed, my mom took me to my grandparents’. And they raised me. Until I was twelve.”

  “What happened when you were twelve?”

  It was easier to look at the view than the pity in his eyes. “My mom chased after fame for a long time. Made some really poor life choices.” Life choices that had seriously affected me and my decisions. Like getting pregnant with me at fifteen. That was one of the biggest reasons I had chosen to be celibate. “Then one day it was like she grew up and realized she’d been wasting her life. She went back to school to become a nurse, and she met my stepfather, Duncan. They married about a year later and then had Zander. That’s when she took me to live with her. While she was pregnant with Zia, Duncan had a heart attack and died.” My voice caught on the last word.

  Chase reached out to put his hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  Usually I could tell that story without tearing up. I wiped my eyes with my free hand. “It was totally u
nexpected. He ate well, exercised, was in perfect health. The doctors said sometimes it just happens.”

  He left his hand there, as if he could infuse me with his strength. The gesture did make me feel better. “I lost my dad, too. But that was because he wrapped his car around a telephone pole when I was seven.”

  “Seriously?” How did I not know that?

  “My mom’s PR team spun it as an accident, but he was an alcoholic who was fond of driving drunk.” It was the first time I’d heard Chase sound angry. “And then my mother’s new boyfriend didn’t want to raise another man’s kid. I was raised by my grandmother, too.”

  I hadn’t realized we had those things in common. I put my hand on top of his, wanting to comfort him the way he had just comforted me. He stared at our joined hands, and my heart started to race as my palm threatened to go clammy, so I pulled away. After a moment, so did he.

  “That just got heavy, didn’t it?” I asked, wanting to lighten the mood. “So I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that skydiving is not your favorite hobby.”

  “No.” He smiled. “It’s surfing. Or it was. That’s one of those things where if the waves are good, the paparazzi are waiting.”

  “You should come surf in Marabella. A lot of the beaches there are private and only for the town’s use. You could surf in peace.”

  Chase pulled out his phone and flicked over a few screens. “How about Saturday?”

  I hadn’t meant it to sound like I was asking him out or anything. Fortunately, I already had an excuse. Which left me feeling both disappointed and relieved. “My mom’s babysitter canceled on her, so I’m watching the rug rats on Saturday.”

  “I don’t know if you know this, but I think this thing between me and Zia might be getting serious. You should bring everyone with you. I don’t think she’d mind.”

  I laughed a little, and I could see that had been his intent. I knew I should say no. I shouldn’t allow myself to hope and dream when there were no possibilities. When his assistant would recover, and I would be sent on my merry way and never see him in person again.