Written in the Stars

by Rachael Eliker

  Despite the upbeat music, I felt like I had a ton of bricks tied around my neck. The same aching conflict that had been plaguing me since spying on their phone call made a resurgence. Maybe after another minute or two of trying to dance with some semblance of uniformity without seriously injuring each other Robby and I could retreat back to our table to eat.

  We gave it a valiant effort, but once we slammed into each other hard enough I had to check to make sure my nose wasn’t bleeding again, I suggested, “Want to finish out this song, then go eat?”

  “Yes, please,” Robby said, fixing the glasses that were askew, barely hanging on to his face.

  Picking up where we left off, I rocked back on my foot, only to instantly ram hard into someone behind me. Swing dancing was as brutal as televised wrestling, fake as it might be.

  “Oh, I’m—” I looked over to see Warren grinning at me. “Sorry.”

  “No worries,” he said. “I’ll survive.”

  “Glad to hear.”

  Standing still in the middle of the swarm of dancers, I noticed a familiar twinkle in Warren’s warm, brown eyes. I knew I’d be sorry for asking, but curiosity got the best of me.

  “What?” I asked cautiously.

  “Mind if I cut in?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The song ended and the audience clapped as the band regrouped, starting a slow ballad.

  “Oh, rats,” I said, lamely snapping my fingers. “Robby and I were getting tired and were going to head up to eat.”

  “I can wait,” Robby offered. I shot a warning glance at him, but it went unnoticed.

  “Since you’re no longer occupied, what do you say?” Warren asked, extending his hand in invitation.

  “You’re going to ditch Stella?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

  “I don’t mind,” Stella said, fanning herself as she glistened with a light sheen of perspiration. My shoulders wilted—she wasn’t helping me, either.

  Robby’s smile broadened, and he turned to Stella. “Since you’re available, may I have this dance?”

  My sister’s cheeks flushed, and she giggled girlishly as Robby offered her his hand. Taking it, the two of them slowly drifted away, swallowed by the sea of other couples. For Robby’s lack of finesse while swing dancing, he had no trouble turning a slow circle without stepping on Stella’s feet.

  Still holding out his hand, I delicately placed mine in Warren’s. I hated that I still felt a jolt when we touched, the same excited, terrified feeling I’d felt when I was ten and I tried out the high dive at the public pool. The whole experience had been exhilarating…until I hit the water. The pool had been like a solid block of concrete, and it had felt like I split the soles of my feet open as I sank in deep. When I thought about it, that experience reminded me a lot of what I’d been through with Warren—at first it was exciting, new, and risky, but when everything had settled, I was left hurting. I hadn’t gone back to the high dive since.

  The singer crooned out romantic lyrics as Warren carefully pulled me closer to him and wrapped his hand around my lower back. I avoided looking in his eyes, afraid of what I might see. There wasn’t room for longing after him anymore. I had to move on.

  “You’re quite the dancer, aren’t you? Where’d you learn?” I asked, looking around him to watch the other dancers leaning against each other.

  “Gramps taught me. Not everyone knew it, but he was a champion swing dancer.” He chuckled and had a faraway look as he reminisced. “Even has an enormous trophy from some national dance competition to prove it.”

  “And you inherited his skills. I’m surprised Harper Music hasn’t caught wind of it and put it to good use.”

  Warren shrugged and twirled me around easily before pulling me in close again. I tried not to notice how his toned shoulder muscles moved under my fingers and instead stared at the microscopic details of his tie. “Have to have a good partner to really be a good dancer.”

  “Too bad you’re a solo act.”

  “Maybe I won’t be forever. I mean, with how well our duet has been received, I wouldn’t be surprised if they paired you and me up. People would love it.”

  I stiffened at the thought. Both being signed musicians with Harper Music was one thing, but running around on tour with Warren attached at my hip? It was a guaranteed mental breakdown.

  “Stop, Warren. Just stop.”

  For a brief moment, Warren froze and the rhythm of our dance was abruptly interrupted. “Stop what?”

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  Warren started moving his feet again and obliged me to do the same. “You keep saying that.”

  I twirled under Warren’s arm, noticing I had plenty of headspace compared to Robby. “I still mean it, too. I don’t want to get in the way of you and Stella. I’m happy for you two. Truly.”

  Warren chuckled and shook his head. “I think you’ve gotten the wrong impression about the two of us.”

  “Have I?”

  “Yeah. I’m not sure how, either.”

  The song ended but without a break, picked back up into another upbeat tune, reinvigorating the atmosphere. Why didn’t he get it? I tried to push away from Warren so I could storm off in a huff and barricade myself in my hotel room, but he held on tight. I still hadn’t eaten, and room service might not be as exotic as the food being dished up at the party, but I was sure they’d have some chocolate cake or a fudge sundae to keep me company while I stewed about how difficult Warren could be.

  “I’m not letting you run off without talking this through once and for all,” Warren said in a voice that told me he was serious.

  Without feeling like I had to do anything other than move my feet, Warren expertly navigated me around, whipping me in and out and spinning me dizzyingly fast. I was basically stumbling on my feet and Warren was using my momentum to make the both of us look good.

  “Answering you is going to be difficult if we keep dancing,” I said, feeling my pulse tick higher with the workout I was getting.

  “I think we’re doing just fine. At least this way we’re not bickering in circles with each other.”

  “I don’t bicker.” Warren’s lips drew together and he raised his eyebrows. I scoffed at his nonverbal insinuation. “Not all the time.”

  “Tell me,” Warren said, putting his hands on my waist and tossing me in the air, catching me, and setting me back on my feet, “why do you get the impression Stella and I are anything more than friends?”

  “Seriously?” I said, my voice rising with anger. “For starters, I overheard you back in Denver on the phone with her.”

  His face screwing up in confusion, Warren asked, “When?”

  “At the formal occasion store. Vanessa was signing autographs up front, remember? Well, I was hiding in the dressing room when you were on the phone. It didn’t take long for me to figure out you were talking to my sister. You said you loved her and that she was beautiful. I heard it, loud and clear.”

  Recollection crossed Warren’s handsome face and it finally clicked for him. “Eloise, you’ve got it all wrong.”

  My vision grew blurry, and I angrily swiped away the tears with a shaky hand. “Do I? It’ll be a case of he said, she said if we try to hash it out. From where I’m standing, you duped both of us into believing that we had something special with you. I never figured you for a two-timer but to do it to my sister? That’s where you really crossed the line.”

  By then, we’d completely stopped dancing—in a sea of commotion, we were two rocks, cold and immovable. Taking a step back, I severed physical contact with him and folded my arms around myself, suddenly feeling chilly despite the sweat pooling in my underarms. The tears had dried up, but my eyelids itched like crazy. I wanted to rub them raw but there was no way I was going to touch them and ruin the beautiful job Stella had done.

  “This is all a horrible misunderstanding,” Warren insisted. “I don’t love your sister.”

  “So, you say it to any pretty face you meet? That
’s worse than not meaning it.” The itchiness of my eyes intensified and I cried, “You’re so impossible that you give me hives!”

  “Stella is a friend—she’s been a good friend these past few weeks and has been helping me figure out how to get back into your good graces. Yes, I said it, but it was in a platonic, little sister kind of way. I feel no romantic attachment to her whatsoever.”

  Popping my hip out to the side, I asked, “And she’s aware of that? Because she looked awfully happy when you two were dancing.”

  “We were talking about you. I was telling her some of what I was learning about you while on tour, and she was spilling all your dirty secrets.”

  “I don’t have dirty secrets,” I lied, feeling my chest constrict with panic. I might not have ever knocked off a gas station or egged my principal’s house but everybody had dirty secrets. I hoped she hadn’t mentioned my affinity for eating glue sticks while in kindergarten. I could very possibly murder her if she had.

  “For one, I’ve learned firsthand how ticklish you are.” Grinning wickedly, he wriggled his fingers and moved toward me.

  Clenching my jaw, I jabbed my pointer finger into his chest. “You try to tickle me, and I’ll cut your hands off.”

  Warren belly laughed. “I also might be privy to the fact that you hate mushy cereal so much that you eat dry cereal, then take a swig of milk. You named your first pet Root Beer, and when your parents found out it was actually a ‘possum you were harboring in the garage, they ran out and got you your first kitten, thus sparking your obsession with cats.”

  “So what? You know some stupid stuff about me. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

  “It does though,” Warren contended. “You’ve been resisting us getting back together because you said I didn’t know anything about you. I’m trying to prove that I know more than you think.

  “Everyone knows I like cats.”

  “Everyone knows you love cats, but I happen to know that you hate cleaning the litter box, which is why you splurged on an automatic one, so you didn’t have to do it. I know that in kindergarten, you got in trouble for eating glue sticks.”

  Oh, Stella was dead.

  Involuntarily, I laughed. “But all that stuff is so…superficial. It’s not who I am, my hopes, what I envision for my future. That’s the kind of person I want to be with.”

  Warren took a step toward me, closing the gap between us. His scent made me woozy, and I could see the ombre fading of his eyes from dark brown to almost gold.

  Placing his warm hands on either side of my face, he looked like he was going to say something deeply romantic until his eyebrows crashed together and he looked worried. “Your eyes…”

  I swallowed and stared back. “Yes?”

  “Your eyes,” Warren repeated. “They’re swollen.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Slapping his hands off my face, I stalked away. “Way to kill the mood.”

  Warren ran in front of me to cut me off. “Seriously. I think you’re having an allergic reaction. Did you eat anything recently that might’ve caused it?”

  “I’m running on empty,” I said, putting my hand on my stomach just as it gurgled, reminded me I hadn’t fed it.

  Maneuvering to where Robby and Stella were still rocking side to side slowly, despite the fast-paced music, talking quietly about something, I intended to tell my sister I was calling it a night and taking a cab back to the hotel. Alone.

  Tapping Robby on the shoulder, both he and Stella looked over at me and gasped with surprise.

  “What?” I asked, annoyed they were so startled at my intrusion.

  “Your eyelids are all puffy,” Stella said, reaching over to gently touch my face. “Are they itchy?”

  Delicately running my fingertips across one of my lids, they felt like they were the consistency of a mushy grape. Smacking my hand over my mouth, I stopped a scream.

  “Was the makeup you used on me hypoallergenic?” I cried frantically.

  “I don’t know!” Stella threw her hands up in the air. “I used whatever Vanessa had out on your vanity. I assumed you’d already double-checked it.”

  Stella opened the wristlet hanging from her arm and produced a small mirror. Taking it from her, I gasped when I saw how my eyelids were slowly starting to droop over my eyes, making me look like the human form of a bloodhound.

  Touching my eyelids again, I cringed. “I have to go.”

  “Okay,” Stella said, ready to pick up and leave with me.

  “No, no,” I said, stopping her. “You stay and have fun. I can find my way back. No reason to cut such a magical evening short on my account.”

  Warren didn’t pick up on the sarcasm souring my tone and instead, stood wringing his hands, wanting to offer his help but holding back.

  “I’ll get us a car,” Robby said, pulling his phone out of his suit coat pocket. “It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes for someone to get here.”

  “That’s sweet of you, Robby, but you should stay, too. You haven’t even had dinner. I can walk to the hotel. It wasn’t more than a mile or so.”

  Warren jumped in and offered, “Let me take you back to the hotel. That way, you’re not wandering in the big city all by yourself.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I insisted.

  “Take Warren with you,” Stella said vehemently. “At the rate your eyelids are swelling, if you don’t get some allergy pills in you soon, your eyelids are going to seal completely shut, and you’ll be wandering blind in the big city.”

  “I’m a grown woman,” I said, wanting to childishly stomp my foot.

  “And I’ll call Mom and tattle if you don’t take Warren with you,” Stella countered, tilting her chin up.

  Through clenched teeth I grumbled, “Fine. Let’s go.”

  Warren beat me to opening the door, and compared to the club, the L.A. night felt downright frigid. Goosebumps sprang up along my forearms, but I ignored them. The crowd that had swarmed the front of the building when we arrived had dissipated since we’d gone in, leaving only a few workers running the valet service standing outside.

  “Excuse me?” I asked one of the valets. “Do you know where the nearest drug store is?”

  A sandy-haired man-boy with a face of a teenager spun around and upon seeing me, about tripped over backward. Recovering and adjusting the black bowtie he was wearing, he gave me directions to a twenty-four-hour corner pharmacy several blocks to the south.

  With single-minded determination, I walked with purpose, keeping my head high though I noticed more than one person do a double take as we crossed paths. Catching a glimpse of myself in a Macy’s storefront window, I wanted to cry. My eyelids looked like I’d been on the receiving end of a double punch to the face. What earlier was Stella’s masterful smoky eyeshadow now made me look like I was sporting two black eyes. I wanted to slip into the nearest sewer and die of embarrassment.

  “You think you’ll be alright?” Warren asked, his voice edged with worry.

  “How sweet of you to be concerned,” I said lightly, though my tongue was sharp. Giving him a sideways glance through my puffy eyes, I immediately regretted my snark. He was genuinely anxious about my well-being, and it was nice to have someone familiar around when I felt so vulnerable. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s a simple case of hives. Happens when I use certain types of makeup. Once I get some antihistamines and get this makeup washed off, I’ll be as good as new.”

  Sticking his hands in his pockets, Warren nodded like he was satisfied with my answer, though I could tell he was still tense with worry. Crossing the final road without bothering to wait for the crosswalk signal, I had to keep myself from running like a madwoman into the store. While I perused the selection of antihistamines and settled on the strongest, fastest acting brand, Warren disappeared momentarily and reappeared with a bottle of mineral water and a package of makeup wipes.

  “It says they’re hypoallergenic. That means you can use them, right?”

  I smiled softly an
d took them from him, touched by his thoughtfulness. “Can’t be any worse off than I am now, right?”

  A soft rumble of laughter came from Warren, and I headed to the front to pay. Warren held the door for me while I read the package label and uncapped my water. Tossing two pills in my mouth, I downed it with a refreshing guzzle. Putting my bounty back in the sack, I pulled out the makeup wipes and began rubbing the offending makeup off my face. I didn’t suppose having blotchy red, swollen eyes was going to make me look any better, but the eyeshadow had to go.

  Once I finished, I tossed the wipe into a nearby trash receptacle with a pitying sigh. Avoiding looking directly at Warren, I said, “Guess we’d better head back to the hotel.”

  “Want me to get a taxi?”

  “Nah. It’s not far.” Looking around me, I turned a circle, realizing I had no idea where we were. “Is it?”

  “It’s about a two-mile walk.”

  “What? Really? I thought we were only a mile away from it at the club.”

  “A mile as the crow flies.” Warren grinned. Plus, the valet sent us in the opposite direction, so that accounts for the extra distance.”

  “Ah,” I said softly. “Well, if we see a cab, that might not be a bad idea.”

  Warren gave me directions to where we were headed, and we started off together. It wasn’t late—it couldn’t have been much past ten o’clock—but there was a different feel to Los Angeles than there was in New York, especially at that time of night. Silence, other than the traffic that whirred by, kept a wall firmly between Warren and me.

  A slow breeze blew from behind, and I shivered, still feeling chilled from leaving the party. Without a word, Warren shrugged off his suit coat and draped it over my shoulders.

  “Oh, you don’t need to,” I protested.

  “You’re shivering so hard I can about hear your teeth chattering.”

  “But you’re not cold?”

  “Cold?” Warren asked, giving me a dubious look. “I’m a hot-blooded Southern boy. We don’t get cold, especially when a lady needs our coats.”