Written in the Stars

by Rachael Eliker

  “A freckle constellation?” I sniggered.

  “I for one think freckles are a highly undervalued commodity.”

  “Probably,” I agreed, feeling myself relax. Laying back against the windshield, I inhaled deeply, content with how things were right then and there.

  In the distance, the lonely, echoing cry of a coyote filtered through the air, and a gentle breeze rustled the grass around the truck. Rubbing my arms to push back the goosebumps that formed despite my sweater, Warren took notice.

  “Chilly?”

  “No,” I lied, right as a violent shiver I couldn’t stop racked my body.

  “Eloise,” Warren said pointedly, “everyone knows you’re a terrible liar. Here. Take my shirt.” I tried to protest, but Warren wouldn’t hear it. “My momma would die of shame if she knew I let a lady suffer while I was sitting comfortable. I’ve got a t-shirt on underneath and if we get too chilled, we can always wrap ourselves up in this quilt.”

  Warren waggled his eyebrows suggestively, making me laugh heartily at his good-humor. Slipping my arms into the sleeves, I murmured my gratitude, relishing the residual warmth he’d left on the fabric.

  “Can I ask you something else, Eloise?”

  “Shoot,” I said.

  “Do you believe when people fall in love, it’s all an accident?”

  I rolled over onto my side, propping my head on my arm and studying his features in the soft moonlight. “Like, do I believe love is destiny or free will?”

  “Yeah. Do you think it’s written in the stars or is it all just happenstance?”

  A small smile curled the edges of my mouth, remembering how Vanessa had comforted me when I’d expressed my concern about Warren and me being back together for the concert tour. I tossed the idea around in my head, wondering what I truly thought about it. I’d never really considered the answer before, focusing more on whether I thought I was in love or not.

  “I guess I think it’s a little bit of both. I don’t think things happen for no reason, but I also think there’s a good amount of work that people have to put into it to make it successful. You?”

  Warren drew in a deep breath and held onto it before blowing it out through his mouth. “Relationships are definitely hard work to see them succeed, but the chances of two compatible people meeting each other in the first place, out of the billions on this planet, seems astronomical. I have to believe there’s some fate or luck or whatever involved.”

  Nodding, I returned to my back. I wanted to ask why he’d brought it up, but a little voice in my head made me second guess that I wanted to hear the answer. Curiosity intervened, and I questioned, “What makes you ask?”

  Warren tilted his head toward me and admitted, “I was thinking about us.”

  My entire body tensed, and I was paralyzed by apprehension. I knew it was a topic that might come up in some future conversation, but for some reason, it totally caught me off guard tonight. Maybe that’s why Warren had brought me in the first place—to get me comfortable before he snuck in under the radar.

  “Is that so?” I squeaked, cringing at my own mousy voice. I measured the passing seconds by my racing heartbeats until I was sure I’d go mad from waiting for his answer.

  “Ever since we broke up, I’ve missed you terribly. I couldn’t sleep, barely ate. Gramps said I looked like the living dead, and not in that glamorized Hollywood version.”

  “I wasn’t aware zombies were ever portrayed as glamorous.”

  Warren tipped his head back and laughed enthusiastically. “I suppose. That’s why we were on that fishing trip in the first place, to try and get my mind off of you.” He shoved his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. “It…didn’t work.”

  “Warren…” I inhaled but couldn’t seem to get enough air. “We can’t.”

  When I finally had the nerve to look at him, Warren’s expression was wounded. “Can’t what? Give us a second try?”

  I put my hands over my uneasy stomach, hoping the weight would keep me from feeling sick. “The first time we were together, I was too distracted by a surge of emotions. We both were. Now we’re paying the price.”

  “What was so wrong about our relationship?” Warren asked, his voice rising with agitation. “I know for a fact you were happy with me. I could see it in the light in your eyes.”

  “Warren!” I cried. “Yes, you’re an excellent kisser, and I enjoyed spending countless hours making out with you, but do you even know my favorite color? Or my middle name? Where I went to elementary school? ‘Cause I don’t know any of that about you. We aren’t compatible—it was all physical attraction and the excitement of being on the show together. In the end, we don’t really know each other.”

  “Because you won’t let me!” Warren shot back. “You have all these hang ups about not giving us another try, but they’re all excuses, and you know it. If I may be so bold as to say that neither of us has been able to move on, not because we broke up a simple relationship. No, what we had was the beginnings of love, and for some reason, that scares you.”

  “You hurt me when you left,” I said heatedly, even while my chin trembled and tears threatened to fall.

  “I think we’re remembering two very different endings. If you recall, it was you who called it off.”

  Poking him hard in his pectoral, I retorted, “And you gave up and left without a fight. You obviously didn’t care enough to try.”

  Warren threw his hands up in the air, and I copied, doing the same thing. Then I slid off the hood of the truck and marched around to the passenger side, yanking open the door. Warren hopped down and put his hands on his waist, watching me storm away from him.

  “It’s been a perfectly lovely day,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “and this seems like a very fitting end to the evening, so I’d appreciate it if you took me back.”

  I slammed the door hard enough that the truck rocked back and forth. Snapping my seatbelt across my lap, I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, staring out the window, away from Warren.

  Eventually, I heard the squeal of his door open and Warren climbed in. I could feel his questioning eyes on me but stubbornly refused to acknowledge him. If I wasn’t careful, one puppy-dog look or dashing smile would break my resolve, and I’d find myself apologizing and begging for him to take me back. My confidence in singing, it seemed, had also produced pride that leaked onto other areas of my life. Right then, I was too upset to care.

  We drove home without so much as an audible sigh between us. Warren rolled up along the curve at my parents’ house and put it in park.

  “For what it’s worth, I really did enjoy myself with you today.”

  Sadness clogged my throat. Why couldn’t I admit this whole mess was partly my fault, like any normal person would be able to do? “Thanks for taking me to see the stars.”

  Warren simply nodded but kept his hands clenching the steering wheel. Letting myself out of the truck, I shut it as quietly as I could and walked up the driveway, disappearing into the shadow of my parents’ house. Slowly, Warren pulled the rumbling truck away. I watched him go, feeling a torrent of emotions swirling inside. I knew I’d been smart and safe as I replayed our closing conversation in my head, but still, my heart cracked watching him go.

  Chapter Eleven

  A rap on my door woke me from my rather pleasant reverie, where I relived last night, though my imagination had taken the evening in an entirely different direction than had happened in reality. I could almost feel Warren’s strong arms pulling me in close, and I remembered with great detail the feel of his delicious lips on mine. A shudder wracked through me, and it was painfully obvious I was going through Warren withdrawals.

  Groaning, I pulled my head out from under my pillow, and sat up, feeling like a semi-truck had run over me. I rubbed at my temples, sure that a vise was firmly clenched around my head, inside, instead of a brain, all I that was there was a thick, impenetrable fog. I reiterated to myself that I wasn’t destined to
be one of those people, like Kiki or Vanessa, who could stay up until the early morning hours and still be fresh enough for the next day without a single bag under their eyelids. I needed a good eight hours to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, although, had circumstances between Warren and I been different, another evening under the stars would have been worth the loss of sleep.

  “Yes?” I croaked.

  “Would you like to join us for breakfast?” Mom asked. I couldn’t see her, but her voice was subdued, and I could hear a pronounced frown coming loud and clear through her tone.

  I didn’t know if she felt contrite about our heated exchange last night or if she was pitying herself for having a daughter who dared speak to her the way I had. Whatever the reason, I felt another healthy dose of guilt crush down on me. Between my parents and Warren, I wasn’t entirely sure if I was capable of interacting with people without biting their heads off anymore.

  “Sure. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  Pulling on my robe, I rubbed the fatigue from my eyes as best I could and headed to the kitchen, where the scrumptious aroma of bacon filled the air as it crackled in the frying pan. My father was watching Wheel of Fortune at the table, while he ate the plate of food my mother had prepared for him, answering Pat Sajack as if he were live on set.

  Mom turned to me, wearing her ruffled pink polka-dot apron and holding a spatula, the perfect, poised housewife she was. She was in her element, and it seemed to put her at ease.

  “Eggs?” she asked.

  “That would be great,” I said, my stomach rumbling loudly, sure my body was on its way to starving.

  She loaded up a plate with scrambled eggs, buttered toast, two slices of bacon, and fresh cut cantaloupe, then handed it to me with a small smile.

  “Thanks,” I said, not fully meeting her eyes.

  “You look like you haven’t been getting enough to eat lately. I don’t remember you being so thin.”

  “Stress, I suppose.”

  I sat down at the table and started eating with vigor, the weight of the food instantly making my angry stomach feel better.

  “What are your plans for today?” my father asked, turning off the television.

  I shrugged. “I was just going to veg on the couch most of the day. Recoup from…you know.” I didn’t want to argue about my concert tour anymore, so not saying anything about it seemed easier.

  “If you want me to take you anywhere, let me know. I have the day off, too. I was due for a long weekend.” Dad leaned over and patted my hand. “Sometimes it’s nice to have a break from the rigors of work, isn’t it?”

  Tears unexpectedly pooled in my eyes, and I blinked them back. “It really is good to be home.”

  I surprised myself and finished every last morsel of food on my plate. I could have asked for seconds and still licked my plate clean, but I decided against it, figuring I could always get a mid-morning snack if I was still famished after I took a shower. Apparently, creating family drama and fighting with Warren made me voraciously hungry.

  Putting my plate in the sink, I heard the faint chime of the doorbell. Mom looked at Dad, confused.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” she asked.

  “Not that I can think of. The sprinkler system repairman isn’t supposed to be here until after lunch.”

  “I’ll get it,” Mom said, taking off her apron and brushing her hands against her slacks.

  I could hear her open the door and engage in brief conversation with someone, though it was muted. I contemplated sneaking upstairs to take a hot shower, risking that the visitor at the door would see me. Afterwards, the Hallmark Channel had a lineup of sappy movies with my name on them, while I tried to ignore the gnawing feeling that I’d made the wrong choice with Warren. Downing the last of the juice mom had given me, I was ready to dash up to the bathroom.

  Mom walked back into the kitchen. “It’s for you.”

  Pulling my robe closed at my neck, I prayed silently it wasn’t Warren, though I had a feeling my mother would have given a surprise like that away with pinched lips and a snide comment. There was no way I was letting Warren see me in my robe and cat pajamas, and rather than race up the steps, I’d rather go out back and climb up the trellis to get to my bedroom unseen.

  “Who is it?”

  “She says she’s a friend from work.”

  I would’ve asked my mom for more detail to try to figure out who was waiting for me, but she’d already put her apron back on and was scouring the dishes in hot water before stacking them in an orderly row in the dishwasher.

  Tiptoeing to the front entry, I hoped Mandy hadn’t found me and come to announce I was needed for an impromptu radio interview or fan meet and greet. She’d already pulled that in several other cities, and though I was getting better at the social aspect of being a pop star, it was still jarring without any chance to mentally prepare beforehand.

  “More exposure, more sales, more success,” she’d said to me more than once when I protested being forced out of my hotel room. “Plus, when Mr. Drake is happy, I’m happy, which means you’re allowed to be happy.”

  I knew it wasn’t Mandy by the scent and sound of Vanessa drifting in from the foyer. Her perfume wasn’t overpowering but was very distinct and always prevalent and more often than not, she had enough jewelry on that she sounded like a windchime with every movement.

  “You’re up early,” I teased as I walked out to greet her. “You usually sleep in until lunchtime on our days off.”

  Vanessa’s eyes appraised me from head to toe. “I can see you’re adopting my strategy. I should’ve known you owned a pair of cat pajamas.”

  “Shut up,” I said, pushing her shoulder. “I happen to like the whimsical feline pattern. Besides, no one but you, my sister, my old roommate, and parents have ever seen me in them.”

  “That’s fortunate,” said Vanessa.

  Shifting my weight, I asked, “Is there a reason I’m being blessed with a visit from you? I thought you and Harrison were going out today to do some big city shopping. You know, the same as you’ve done in every city on the tour thus far.”

  Vanessa inspected her fire engine red nails and shrugged. “Harrison has to catch up on some alterations he’s been meaning to do for Tad’s tour. So, you’re going to be my shopping buddy today. Starting with a new pair of pajamas.”

  “Don’t knock the cat pajamas. They’re comfortable and have seen me through some very troubling times.”

  “And make you look like an eighty-year-old shut in.”

  “Just getting an early start,” I retorted.

  Vanessa pinched her full lips together, obviously not in the mood to take me stubbornly digging in my heels. “I’ll give you five minutes to get ready.”

  “How benevolent of you. What’s the rush?”

  Vanessa lowered her voice. “Warren.”

  My insides twisted into knots. “Warren? What’s wrong? Is he okay?”

  Vanessa lifted her perfectly shaped eyebrow. “My, my. Aren’t we concerned about him?”

  I threw my hands out and waved them frantically. “Well, yeah! You make it sound like he died. I mean, did he?”

  Vanessa’s eyelids fluttered as she rolled her mocha eyes far into her skull. “No, he’s still among the living.”

  “So, what’s—”

  Holding up her finger to her lips, she shushed me. “Go get dressed. We’ll talk about it while we’re out and about.”

  “Out and about?”

  Vanessa stomped her foot hard enough I was surprised the tile beneath her pumps didn’t crack, and pointed up the stairs. “Change! I refuse to be seen in public with you in that outfit.”

  I stuck my tongue out at her, and she playfully swatted at me, but I darted away. Vanessa was one of the few women with whom I felt comfortable, despite our being wildly polar opposites, at least on the surface. In our time together as roommates during America’s Next Pop Star, I’d discovered that beneath her confident façade, she was just as vulne
rable and insecure as I was, except it manifested itself differently. That had bonded us, and next to Stella, Vanessa felt like a sister to me.

  After slipping into a pair of shorts and a gray t-shirt with a kitten front and center, I swept my hair up into a high ponytail and swiped on a minimum amount of makeup—enough to placate Vanessa being seen with me in public, and not so much that my dad would accuse me of wearing an unreasonably high poundage on my skin.

  I put on a pair of pink Chucks and skipped down the stairs, surprised to see Vanessa talking with both of my parents.

  “All ready?” I asked, hurrying over to break up their conversation before she could share something that would more than likely mortify my parents. Tugging at her arm, I insisted, “Shall we?”

  If my folks had a hard time accepting down-to-earth Warren, I was sure talking to over-the-top Vanessa was going to prove to be too much.

  “It was lovely to meet you,” Vanessa said, giving them her best front-cover smile.

  “Yes, likewise, Vanessa,” Mom said, the smile on her face reaching all the way to her eyes. Her change of attitude took me aback, and I wondered what had happened in the few minutes I was upstairs changing. “You’ll have to stop by for dinner sometime. I’d love to meet Harrison.”

  Vanessa shook Mom’s and Dad’s hands before I shoved her out the door, wanting an explanation for how she was able to charm them so thoroughly and efficiently. Promising my parents I’d be back soon, I shut the door behind me. In the driveway, I found a parked limousine waiting.

  “Of course, you had to be conspicuous, didn’t you?” I said with a laugh.

  “What? This is how I’ve always traveled, ever since I can remember. Part of growing up rich.”

  “How could I forget? Well, at least I get some of the benefit of it.”

  The chauffeur got out of the driver’s seat, buttoned his suit coat, and opened the door for us. I thanked him as we slid into our seats.