His Shooting Star: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  I want to worry about my own life, to have all my ‘problems’ racing through my mind but there’s something mesmerizing in how Professor Xander Sexton just manages to shift my mood with a look, or in this case, a series of bizarre planetary time comparisons.

  “On Mercury, I’d be over a hundred seventy-eight years old… and on—” But he stops suddenly, looking serious.

  “How old are you?” he asks in his deepest tone. “In Earth years, I mean,” he adds, creasing his mouth, but not in a smile.

  “I’ll be twenty next month,” I tell him, forgetting all my so-called problems and waiting excitedly for him to give me a list of my age if we were together on other planets.

  “So you’re nineteen,” he says tone gravely, taking a deep breath in through his nose.

  He folds his huge arms, almost hugging himself, and turns his back on me to study the window looking out on the night sky. The city is like a sheet of colored stars in the distance.

  “Is it bad to be nineteen?” I ask, feeling he might not like me now. Like I’ve just told him I have the plague or something.

  “Not for you,” he chirps, the smile returning to his face as he spins on his heel, kneeling in front of me with both hands on his hams.

  “But for a college research professor…” he trails off.

  “I don’t follow,” I add before he can continue. “Not many nineteen year old professors, I’d imagine.”

  He chuckles to himself and sighs. Looking at me again with those eyes, filled with longing now. Bringing back some of that excitement we both felt when he first touched me.

  “You said it was just you?” he asks, maintaining his habit of effortlessly changing the subject or ignoring my questions without it being rude at all.

  In fact, I could swear under oath that I could lie here and listen to him all night and all day tomorrow, no matter what he said.

  “Just me,” I remind him. “I lived with my dad, back home, but college came and now...” My own voice trails off and he leans in, urging me to go on with a movement of his chin.

  “Now that my house sitting is done with, I’ll have to go back home again,” I finish.

  “But no boyfriend, fiancé? Partner?” he asks, making me wonder if he is having his own private joke about my weight after all.

  “No,” I answer hotly. “I suppose you have girls of all sizes tripping over themselves just to be near you, huh?” I start to shout, wondering where the hell all this is coming from. “I suppose you follow co-ed girls and do all kinds of things to lure them back to your—”

  In a single movement, Xander’s moved closer to me, and covered my hand gently with one of his, pressing one of his huge fingers to my lips.

  It’s such a sudden movement, but so tender, and so much of what I need again, to be touched by him that I fall back helpless.

  I want to murmur an apology, but keeping his huge hand over mine, he pats it gently and reminds me I’ve had quite enough adventure for one night.

  “If there’s no one we should call, then I suggest. I insist you be my guest tonight. In the morning we can go over to the college medical center and have your ankle looked at.”

  I try to open my mouth, to apologize. To say something, anything.

  Except how I really feel. That seems impossible right now.

  But before I know it, his kindness overwhelms me again.

  There’s a lamp by the couch he flicks on, a comforter spread over me, and after bringing me a glass of water, he mentions where the bathroom is in case I need it.

  “But I—” I try to protest again.

  But like a magic spell his huge hand stroking my hair back with the gentle sound of him hushing me, is enough to send me to sleep in seconds.

  Chapter Four

  Xander

  Fuck.

  She’s perfect.

  I’ve seen plenty of heavenly constellations in my time, the formation of whole galaxies. Stuff the top brass at NASA would wet their pants over.

  But she is the finest creation, in every universe. In every cosmos, I know it. I can see it with my own eyes.

  I can set her at ease with a touch, but calming her troubled mind isn’t so easy.

  Do I really come across as some lecherous old guy trying to lure college girls back to my lair?

  No. I know I don’t. I’m barely noticed on campus, and with the hours I keep it’s no wonder she’s never seen me.

  Plus, it’s pretty clear in both the college and the agency’s contract that there’s to be no fraternization of any kind other than work-related. Students especially, but staff as well.

  But she’s finished college. Done. And in less than a few weeks I’ll be free of all my ‘contractual’ obligations…

  Already, and even before she’s hinted at any romantic interest in me, I’m planning how I could make it work.

  How easy it could be for us to be together.

  I could tear up my contract renewal with the college.

  Something I was half-contemplating, I only need them so I can use their facility to make some more of my own equipment.

  But she seemed upset more than accusing me of what she’s imagined about me so far.

  Maybe there’s gossip on campus? People will talk, and they mostly talk a lot of BS.

  I turn it over in my mind so many times as I move about the house, making sure it’s secure for her sake more than mine.

  It’s never happened. But I often wonder what would happen if someone broke in and came face to face with me and my body at three a.m.?

  Once I know the place is secured for the night, I look in on her sleeping form. Knowing full well I won’t sleep a wink.

  How could I, with her so close? I don’t even know that I could sleep again even if she did leave.

  And there it is. I’ve caught myself out.

  Already deciding this is a forever thing, and I don’t even know if she’s remotely attracted to me or if she even wants a relationship with someone twice her age.

  2.2105 times her age.

  Shut up.

  I settle myself in the easy chair opposite the couch, fully aware that although I’m twice her age, she’s made me feel half that every time I look at or even think about her.

  I’ve never known such arousal, but unlike in the forest, seeing her sleeping so peacefully, at home where she should be. It doesn’t feel so urgent.

  But twice her age?

  It’s not what contracts or rules say, maybe not even so much what society says.

  What will her father say? She told me herself he was the only real connection she has in this life.

  If she was my daughter I wouldn’t let her leave the house let alone go alone to college for four years.

  No.

  There’ll be trouble ahead, but it’ll be worth it.

  If.

  And in my mind, it’s a big if right now.

  If she’ll even have me. If she feels the same way about me as I do about her.

  I’ve known her all of two hours and I’m already planning our life together.

  She might not feel the same way, and as you observed, girls especially can be fickle when it comes to extreme emotions…

  Damn the professor in me. I have to look at each angle from every perspective a dozen times before I come up just as confused or ignorant as when I started.

  Or you could just ask her.

  The simplest solution, but the most unacceptable. Why? Because she might say no.

  She might say thanks but no thanks, and I don’t know if I could live another hour away from her without knowing she feels even half the way I do.

  I’ve never fallen hard for anyone or anything. Tonight I watched as she fell, but is it falling in the same way she might feel about me?

  I want her more than physically too. The physical need for her is obvious, should be obvious to anyone with eyes.

  But I want all of her, and everything that’s all of me I want to be hers too.

  A life together,
full of all the things that we love and some we’ll most likely dislike about each other too. But it’s all those things that make something special so complete.

  There’s nothing for it though, I’ll just have to ask her. Tell her how I feel, even though we’ve just met.

  But wouldn’t that be too much too soon? I mean, do I want to scare her off? Maybe get to know her a little better first.

  What? And have her walking around out there alone, unclaimed?

  And so on it goes, hour after hour until the chirping crickets are replaced by the earliest and keenest songbirds.

  I’ve watched over her all night and she only stirred and mewed a few times. Each time giving me a heavy feeling in my chest at not being able to reach over and comfort her like I know I should.

  To carry her to our bed.

  It took some control, but I never disturbed her or even tried to look at anything other than her sweet, sleeping face.

  If this arousal keeps up though, it’ll be me in the ER. Isn’t it supposed to be dangerous after four hours?

  She shifts and moans as I sit wondering if it’s too soon for breakfast, or should I shower? I know it’s going to be a challenge to not take care of my insane arousal, but seriously I can’t keep it like this.

  There’s a buzzing from under her coverlet, and her moaning gets louder.

  Just when my mind is going to places it shouldn’t again, her hand appears and she answers her phone sleepily.

  She mumbles a few words and then darts awake, her eyes meeting mine. Wide and alert, but also looking full of regret.

  My heart sinks a little.

  A lot actually.

  I can’t read her mind so easily now that my head is so full of her, but I can see it in her sleep-filled face. She looks embarrassed and maybe even a little worried I’ve been watching her sleep.

  Even I know it’s not normal behavior to sit up all night, inches from houseguests, and watch them sleep.

  But my mood lifts once I overhear her conversation.

  “Mrs. Patterson, how are you?” she forces herself to say cheerfully, rolling her eyes and making a face.

  “No. No, I haven’t forgotten—”

  She’s interrupted, and I can see whoever Mrs. Patterson is, is giving her some bad news.

  “Sunday?” Gillian says. “Not Monday, but Sunday… Nine o’clock too. As in the morning?” she exclaims, her voice rising in pitch which she disguises with a forced laugh.

  The laugh of someone who has a problem they know they can’t fix, like a deadline.

  “Orion’s fine… What, now? Oh, I just put him out for his… Alright then, I’ll see you bright and early Sunday…”

  Her face is pale, almost gray, with her jaw still open as if in mid-sentence.

  Shock.

  I get up from my chair and take the phone from her, making sure it’s hung up.

  “They’re coming…back…Sunday,” she stammers. “As in tomorrow.”

  It takes some time, and my arm around her (which I can’t help), but I get the whole story of her house sitting job and the state of said house.

  The now missing dog, the yard, the whole picture of the matter.

  Not the greatest moment for me to talk about something else, huh?

  I offer some encouragement, telling her I can help but it’s only natural that she bursts into tears, I guess.

  I mean, I have a pretty logical and clinical approach to everything. A lot of people don’t.

  It’s selfish of me I know, but I only hold her closer, stroking her hair like a friend might, telling her in soft tones that everything will work out fine.

  All the while my raging hard on has sprung back to life.

  An unmistakable tent pole between us that her arm and hands accidentally brush against more than once.

  Evidence enough for me anyhow. She’s noticed my arousal twice now, and instead of screaming and running in fear, she seems to be dragging out her tears so I’ll hold her a little longer.

  So maybe we can both have just a little more of this before we get down to the other, more ugly business of sorting out her house and finding a small dog.

  I put my hand on hers, wanting so bad to move it over to my unbearable aching cock, help her to free it so we can do what I know we both need as well as want.

  But I can’t.

  I won’t until she tells me it’s what she wants.

  If she’d really wanted to she would have done it by now, wouldn’t she?

  And wouldn’t you if you weren’t such a scaredy cat?

  Sniffing away her tears, she wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands, swallowing so hard and keeping her eyes fixed on my groin, it’s obvious what she’s thinking.

  I lift her chin so her eyes meet mine, noting her biting her lip again. A thing she does, I guess.

  Both our faces start to move closer, like anything unavoidable it’s all just about to happen anyway.

  Like two suns colliding or a meteor falling to earth, universal forces that can’t be stopped. Not for any—

  Her cell chimes again, and her eyes dart down just long enough for her to register the caller.

  “I have to,” she whispers. “It’s my dad.”

  The word is like a wall. A wedge in between our moment. Taking a deep breath in, I stand up. Facing her long enough for her to see just how hard I am for her, how close our own happiness is.

  She gasps loudly, her hand reaching for me but I turn away.

  I couldn’t let her touch me before I tell her.

  Tell her how much she means to me already. Tell her that it’s all or nothing.

  Tell her all the things it’ll take a lifetime to tell, not while she’s pressing ‘answer’ to her dad’s call.

  Chapter Five

  Gillian

  I swear when things go wrong, they always all happen at once, and always when something amazing should be happening in their place.

  Waking up with my eyes still full of sleep, I feel so rested in the same way I’ve never felt so safe but with Xander.

  Anywhere with him feels like home, and my first thought before I even answer my stupid phone is that I’m gonna tell him how I feel.

  No matter how crazy it sounds.

  I acted like a child last night, sounding off about other women, girls, and whatnot. Only because the thought of him anywhere near another female makes me so mad.

  He’s mine. At least, in my mind, I wish he was.

  I’ve fallen so hard for him I don’t care if he laughs and makes fun of me like all those jocks in college. At least I’ll know I told him, tried my best.

  But everything flies out the window when I hear the familiar, high-pitched voice of Mrs. Patterson, owner of both the house I’ve essentially ruined through months of neglect and the dog I’ve lost.

  The pain I should be feeling in my ankle rises up into my throat. I want to die so I don’t have to deal with any of this.

  But then there’d be no Xander.

  He’s my only rock at the moment, but unfortunately, my biggest distraction too.

  They’re coming back a day early, nothing I can do to change that. But I still start crying like a baby, wishing Xander would hold me like I want.

  And he does.

  He does, and oh so much more.

  I thought I might have been imagining his arousal in the dark, and then again when we got to his house. But as he sits on the edge of the couch, hugging me close, I can see it not two inches from me.

  My hand even brushes against it through his pants by accident, several times.

  Oh. My. Freaking. God.

  It’s not a small distraction either, nothing about Xander is small.

  In a soothing tone, and quite shameless about his arousal, he explains he’ll help me fix all my problems, but the biggest problem he has seems to be in his pants.

  This is the part where the girl takes charge, kisses her man, and tells him to ravish her, right?

  Or does it all just happen naturally
and without words?

  Either way, I swallow down hard the fact that despite everything else, this is all real. Xander is real and we’re really about to kiss at least when my freaking phone chimes again.

  When it makes that sound, there’s only one person it could be, and if I don’t answer now, and knowing my dad, I’ll have him to deal with as well as everything else.

  Xander gets up to leave the room, for privacy. But he lingers just long enough to prove his, ahem… point.

  I think it’s pretty clear he’s interested in me, although god only knows why, but my head is spinning so fast, and my own arousal is past boiling point, I don’t think either of us has the luxury of questions for much longer.

  “You okay sweetie? You sound frazzled.” My dad observes.

  If wild animals in heat are being held apart from their alpha mate by a thin layer of fabric and constant interruptions, then yeah. I’m ‘frazzled’.

  “Well I’m just calling to let you know—” my dad starts but I cut him off angrily.

  “I know, dad. Alright? I just spoke to her and I know they’re coming back a day early,” I add, punching out my words as my free hand hits the soft cushions beside me.

  As if I need reminding.

  “Well, okay. Uh, you sure everything’s alright. I mean, if you need anything you only have to ask,” he says. Making me feel like an ogre.

  I’m never usually so grouchy with my dad, so he’s smelling a big rat, and him being a police detective, he always needs to investigate.

  “I’m just tired dad,” I lie. Something else I never really do with dad, because there’s no point.

  “You sound wide awake, honey.” He observes. “What’s happened?” he asks me point-blank. In his serious dad voice.

  Closing my eyes I let out a bitter sigh.

  He’s gonna find out sooner or later. He’ll start digging as soon as I get off the phone.

  “I just sprained my ankle is all. Last night. A little accident.”

  That’s lie number two.

  Three strikes and he’ll be coming down here himself, I just know it.

  “Alright, Gillian. Now, from the beginning, just take a moment and explain exactly what happened,” he says.