#Starstruck

by Wilson, Sariah

  Lexi left but not before giving me a hug and saying it would all work out. I made chocolate-chip cookies and root beer–float cookies and snickerdoodles. I was too angry to even eat them.

  By the time my phone rang, I was like a volcano, ready to erupt.

  “Hey, babe. What’s up?”

  “What’s up?” I repeated, seething. “What’s up? Why would you even care? I don’t mean anything to you!”

  There was a long pause. “I don’t know what’s happening right now.”

  “I saw you this morning. Telling Helen you don’t have anybody you care about. No girlfriend. No one special. Did you stop and think how that would make me feel?”

  “Hang on.” There were some muffled sounds like wind, and then I heard a car door slam. “Did it ever occur to you that I was protecting you? The second I give the press any hint that I’m dating someone, your private life is over. They will find out everything. They will camp out at your apartment and go through your trash. They’ll bribe anyone who might possibly know you into telling them stories. They will follow you everywhere you go. Do you think I want that to happen to you? It’s bad enough it happens to me. Do you really think I want it to happen to someone that I . . .” His voice trailed off, and he let out a huge sigh.

  That took some of the righteous indignation out of my sails, but I was still upset and still wanted to fight.

  “Even if that was your reason, I had to watch you kissing that Amelia Swan.”

  “What? When?”

  “On that clip today!” I said, stirring snickerdoodle dough harder than I needed to. “From your movie!”

  “Are you serious?” Now he sounded mad, which for some reason I found satisfying. “I didn’t kiss Amelia. Hank kissed Lorraine. The character I was pretending to be kissed the character she was pretending to be.”

  “Yeah, but he did it with your lips.”

  “I can’t even tell you how unsexy those scenes actually are. They’re so technical. It’s all choreographed beforehand, done over and over again, and there are thirty people watching you do it. I wish I could explain it better, but what it comes down to is this is my job.”

  While I logically understood his argument and knew it was his profession, how many other women had boyfriends with jobs that required them to kiss and have pretend love scenes with beautiful actresses?

  “I know it’s your job,” I said in a resigned tone, recognizing my own irrationality.

  “Where is all this coming from? You’ve seen me kiss other people before.”

  “Yeah, but that was different. That was before . . .” I didn’t finish my sentence. Before you were mine. “It’s just hard.”

  “I know it is, babe. And I’m sorry. It’s weird. But I love my job, and I’m good at it, and I want to keep doing it.”

  Did he think I wanted him to quit? “I would never ask you to give it up.”

  “I know you wouldn’t. I just hope you can find a way to be okay with it.”

  With a sigh, I sat down at the kitchen table, holding my forehead in my hands. “I’m sorry I overreacted.”

  “It’s kind of nice. The jealousy thing.”

  “You won’t think it’s nice when I’m boiling Amelia Swan’s bunny.”

  He laughed, and I knew things were okay again. “You still planning on coming over tonight?”

  Chase had mentioned yesterday he had a big date planned for us, along with some surprises. “Of course.”

  “Good. Because now that we’ve had our first fight, you know what that means. The make-up hug is going to be amazing.”

  I brought Chase some of my anger-induced cookies, and he showed me his surprise. He’d hired a famous television chef who was known for his love of swearing to give us a private cooking class. The chef turned out to be a total sweetheart and attempted to teach us how to make pan-seared chicken breasts, rosemary mashed potatoes, and green beans with almond slices. We didn’t get cussed out once, and there were only two minor mishaps involving fire, so I counted that as a win.

  Chase walked the chef out, and when he came back into the kitchen, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and hugged him. “You don’t have to keep doing stuff like this. It’s so sweet and thoughtful, but being with you is impressive enough for me.”

  His arms were around my waist. “I’m just trying to . . .”

  “What?”

  “I told you, this is why actors have writers,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “You’re different. And special to me. I want to show you that.”

  My heart grew ten sizes bigger. “You don’t need a writer. That was pretty perfect. So, what else do you have on the agenda for this evening?”

  He twisted his mouth to the side and raised his eyebrows as if thinking hard. “Strip poker?”

  I just shook my head. “I don’t even know how to play regular poker.”

  Chase shot me his best leer. “Then most definitely strip poker.”

  He laughed when I smacked his arm, then he gave me that blinding grin that always made my knees buckle. “I do have something planned. But I have to give you something first. Stay here.”

  He ran upstairs, and I put some of the dishes in the sink and filled the burned pans with water. Next time I saw Sofia, I would ask her the best way to clean them, because I hoped there were more burned pans in our future.

  “Close your eyes.”

  I put my hands over my eyes and turned toward the sound of his voice. “So . . . I don’t know how you’re going to take this . . . uh . . . the thing is . . . .see? I do need a writer.” He let out a little laugh before continuing. “But I don’t want you to think this means something it doesn’t . . . and . . . I . . .”

  Now he was starting to make me nervous. “Consider the suspense built! Can I open my eyes?”

  “Okay.”

  I blinked a couple of times in confusion. “You’re giving me a board?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The board was about six feet tall and had grooves on one end, like the edge of a saw blade. Chase seemed so excited about it that I realized how rude I was being. “Oh. Thank you?” I hadn’t intended for it to sound like a question.

  “It’s probably not what you think.”

  “I think you’re giving me a piece of wood.”

  “It’s a bundling board.” He looked at me expectantly, like I should know what that was. “Like what the Amish do. When you told me about your grandparents, I did a little research. When a couple is courting, they are allowed to stay up all night talking. The girl’s family puts this board down the middle of a bed, and the girl gets under the covers, but the guy doesn’t. It was something about conserving fuel in the winter. I’m going to be leaving tomorrow afternoon. At the end of every evening we’re together, saying good night to you is the worst part of my day. I thought maybe this way you could stay.”

  My mouth hung open in shock. I didn’t know what to say.

  He put his free hand in his jeans pocket, a gesture I knew meant he felt anxious or nervous about something, which was so endearing. “I don’t expect anything. I know nothing’s going to happen between us. I just want to spend as much time with you as I can before I go.”

  It was . . . incredibly sweet. And thoughtful. And respectful. And I’d never had anyone do anything like this for me before.

  My silence made him keep talking. “I considered emptying one of the guest rooms so we could wallpaper it. Isn’t that what your grandmother said? If we could wallpaper a room without killing each other, we had a promising future?”

  I finally found my voice. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “I pay attention to things you say, Zoe. Anyway, I thought bundling was a much better idea. I wouldn’t want you to get all dirty and tired.”

  “So it had nothing to do with getting me to stay all night in your room. You were only thinking of me,” I teased. I rested my hand on the top of the bundling board.

  “I’m very selfless like that.”
/>   “But I don’t have anything to sleep in.” I knew I didn’t have to worry about brushing my teeth given his well-stocked guest rooms.

  And I would most definitely be brushing my teeth.

  “I actually have something for you to sleep in. I asked One-F to go pick out a nightgown. Or I can lend you something of mine.”

  He always thought about the little things. I loved the idea of sleeping in his clothes, surrounded by his scent, next to him in his bed (even if a board was between us). But he had made the effort to get me something, and it would be rude not to accept. “I’ll take what your assistant picked out. You’re very detail oriented.”

  His eyes flashed hot, and he raked them up and down my body, sending shivers racing across my skin. “You should remember that. For a possible someday.”

  There was no way I would ever forget.

  I gulped and asked, “So where’s this nightgown?”

  “Does that mean you’ll stay?” His eyes were big and hopeful.

  “You know I want to stay.”

  Chase reached out and hugged me with his free arm, then kissed my cheek. “It’s up in the guest room you used last time. Get changed, and join me when you’re done.”

  We parted at the top of the stairs, where I went to the guest room, and he went to his. I took out my phone and thought about calling Lexi. Getting her advice. Which would probably be useless, because she would just tell me to toss the board and see where things went. I settled on texting her that I’d be home really late and not to worry. If I said I’d be out all night, she’d never stop bugging me for information.

  She responded quickly.

  A paper bag sat on the bed, and I had a moment of apprehension. What had One-F bought? I reached in and pulled out the most old-fashioned nightgown I’d ever seen. I actually laughed. It was made out of light-blue cotton, long-sleeve with lace ruffles, and when I held it against me, I saw it would go to midcalf. It had dumb little pink bows on it and lace that went up to my neck. I hadn’t needed to worry. There was nothing immodest or appealing about it at all. I wondered what kind of instructions Chase had given his assistant.

  I decided to have a quick shower, and I put my hair up so it wouldn’t get wet. I locked the door behind me, but I knew I didn’t need to. Chase wouldn’t come in here. As I’d told him more than once, I trusted him.

  The hot water beat against my back, and I leaned my forehead against the shower wall. Was I making a mistake? Would this be too much temptation? Were we just playing with fire? The problem with fire-playing is that it ends when people got burned. Then again, if it was an Amish tradition, how risqué could it actually be?

  Deciding I trusted him and myself, I turned off the shower, toweled off, and put on the ridiculous nightgown. I tried not to laugh at my reflection. I looked like I had just wandered off the set of Little House on the Prairie.

  After I had brushed my teeth and put my clothes in the bag on the bed, I walked down the hall to Chase’s room, feeling nervous excitement bubbling in my stomach.

  I hesitated and then knocked on his door. He yelled out, “Come in!” His words sounded garbled, like he was brushing his teeth. I opened the door, and the first thing that hit me was that specific, amazing Chase scent. His room was decorated in dark blues and different shades of brown. His bed was enormous; it looked bigger than a king. It had a quilted cream-colored headboard, and behind it were planks of wood in different sizes and colors. I heard Chase turn off the faucet and felt a new wave of anxiety. I distracted myself by looking at the opposite end of the room. There were two window seats with pillows that matched the ones on his bed and a bookshelf between the windows that I wanted to check out.

  But Chase chose that moment to walk out of the bathroom, his hair still damp from his shower. He wore drawstring cotton pajama bottoms, and I put my hand over my stomach when I saw his chest. Have mercy on my ovaries.

  He muttered things that sounded suspiciously like swear words. “I should have told him to get you a burlap sack.”

  He had a problem with this ridiculous thing? Seriously? He was the one sporting abs of steel that probably set off metal detectors in airports.

  Chase was still complaining. “I told him to get the least sexy thing he could find.”

  Holding out my arms, I said, “Mission accomplished.”

  “No, not mission accomplished. This is worse.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because now that I can’t see anything, I’m imagining it all instead.”

  I thought about teasing him, suggesting I could take it off, but things felt edgy enough already, and I didn’t want to push him too far. “I could sleep in the guest room.”

  “No.” He crossed over to me and held my hands. “No. I want you here with me.”

  “This is where I want to be, so that works out well.”

  Even though I knew nothing would happen, I couldn’t quite shake my anxious feeling. I wondered if it was obvious.

  “Do you need anything?” he asked, looking concerned.

  Yep. Obvious.

  “Some water?”

  And a defibrillator.

  He squeezed my hands and kissed me briefly. I crossed my arms and watched while he grabbed a couple of bottles of water from a built-in minifridge. He handed me one, but I didn’t open it. Instead, I just stared at his chest, wanting to run my fingers across his skin. It was like a topographical map to Hot Guy’s Chest, and I wanted to explore.

  Then I realized my hand had made an independent decision, and that’s exactly what it was doing—running my fingertips across his abs, feeling the muscles contract and his breath catch when I made contact. I curled my fingers inward and pulled my rebel hand away.

  He raised one eyebrow at me, looking amused. “You don’t have to stop on my account.” I wondered how much I was blushing when he added, “I don’t normally sleep with a shirt. Should I put one on?”

  “Yes! I mean, whatever you want.”

  With a knowing smirk, he went back into his bathroom. I guessed his closet was in there because I didn’t see a dresser.

  I decided to get into bed, but then I didn’t know what side he slept on. I had a twin mattress in my apartment, so my regular side was everywhere. Chase returned, pulling on a T-shirt that bore the name of a band I’d never heard of. I put my water on one of the nightstands, not really wanting to drink it. He grabbed the bundling board and placed it in the middle of the bed, but we both quickly realized we didn’t have any way of making it stay put. It kept leaning to one side. We tried stacking pillows against it, but that didn’t work.

  “The bed frames they used with this probably had some kind of slot or something,” I offered. “We could just put pillows between us.”

  “That could work.” He put the board on the floor, and we piled up pillows, which stayed this time. “Climb in, and I’ll get the lights.”

  I chose the side of the bed I was closest to, pulling back the covers and settling in. Chase plunged the room into darkness, and the mattress sank under his weight. He didn’t move the covers, though. He stayed on top of them. My eyes adjusted after a few seconds, and he removed the pillows that blocked us from seeing each other. We turned on our sides, our faces just a pillow width apart.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I whispered back.

  We lay in silence for a few minutes, just looking at each other. I couldn’t believe how much I loved this. Being here with him.

  I wished I could do it every night.

  “Yeah, I can’t do this.” Chase started tossing pillows to the floor.

  My throat felt tight. Was he going to send me away? “Do what?”

  “Have you here and not touch you.” He pulled me against him, and I rested my head in the hollow between his neck and shoulder, laying my hand over his chest. My whole body let out a sigh of relief, saying, This is where we belong.

  “I don’t think this is how the Amish do it.”

  “Well, I don’t shun electricity or tra
vel by horse, so I’m taking some liberties. I can put the pillows back later. For now, I want to hold you. It’s been a long day, my girlfriend picked a fight with me earlier, and I’d just like to relax.”

  My heart beat so hard I was sure he could feel it against his rib cage. “Girlfriend? You’ve never called me that before.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “I haven’t? You are.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it calmed any doubts I might have been harboring.

  His breaths started becoming longer and deeper.

  I touched his neck. “Chase, I thought we were supposed to stay up and talk all night.”

  “In a minute,” he mumbled.

  His breathing grew slower, more rhythmic. I should have let go of him and moved back to my side of the bed. But I wasn’t willing to give up this warmth that had spread through me. This contented, happy, peaceful feeling was because of the man whose strong arms held me tightly.

  I’d move back to my side. Like he’d said. In a minute.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I woke up to the sensation of butterfly kisses on my face. Chase kissed my eyelids, my cheeks, my forehead, the tip of my nose. I opened my eyes, and he smiled at me. “Good morning.”

  “Morning,” I said with a yawn. I became aware of the fact that at some point during the night I had kicked off my covers, and I was now seriously intertwined and entangled with my boyfriend (which I could now officially call him).

  It sent heat careening around my body, making me super aware of how good it felt to be so close.

  He studied my face as he ran the back of his hand along my cheek.

  “What?” I asked in a panic. Had I drooled, and there was some physical evidence of it near my mouth? I reached up to check.

  “I was just wondering how I got so lucky.”

  “It helps that you’re really hot.”

  He laughed and kissed me but not for too long. Which was probably a good idea, given our current situation.

  His blue eyes looked so bright in the early-morning sun. I stroked his face, a mixture of smooth and rough where his stubble had started growing in.