#Starstruck

by Wilson, Sariah

  “They can add it to my bill,” he said, throwing his plate into a trash bin. “You know I’m never going to pass up the opportunity to eat something you baked.” He kissed my right temple, making me sigh.

  “I can’t believe you rented the entire aquarium,” I said as we approached the sea-horse tank. They were such weird-looking creatures, like underwater aliens. I loved watching them swim with their little fins and hang on to tall blades of seaweed with their curly tails.

  “If there were other people here, I couldn’t do this.” Before I could catch my breath, Chase spun me in his arms and held me tightly while his warm, strong mouth kissed mine thoroughly and completely. Some still-functioning part of my brain registered that he tasted like lemon and sugar as I collapsed against him.

  “You could, but they would probably ask us to leave,” I whispered when we came up for air, making him smile.

  We made out for a while longer. When he started nuzzling my neck, I had to make him stop because I wasn’t sure how much more of that sweet torture I could take.

  “So what about the staff?” I asked as we entered the jellyfish room.

  “There are some people in the back. They gave me a number to call if I needed to, but why would I?”

  “What if there’s an emergency?”

  “And what kind of emergency are you envisioning?

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ve seen those videos of octopi escaping their tanks. That’s probably worth a phone call.”

  “If I see an octopus escaping, I plan on standing clear, and he can do whatever he wants.”

  I loved how he could make me laugh. “I shouldn’t let you do this kind of stuff.”

  “What do you mean? Like kiss you?” He punctuated his sentence with another bone-melting kiss.

  “No,” I said, breathless when he let me go. “That’s, um, good. I meant the extravagant gestures. Like renting an entire aquarium.”

  There was a round white-leather seat in the middle of the round room, meant to mimic the jellyfish. He pulled me over to it, and we sat down. “The last woman I seriously dated used to leave catalogs lying around with things circled. She also sent me links to her wish list on Amazon. Took me into jewelry stores to show me her favorite pieces. In every other relationship I’ve had, there’s always this expectation that I’ll spend all this money and go to all these extravagant places. But with you I never feel that way. I never feel like you expect anything from me. And it makes me enjoy doing things for you. I love experiencing things you love and seeing how excited you are.”

  Wow. I didn’t love hearing about the last girlfriend, but he was seriously so sweet that it made my soul ache. I looked over at the translucent-moon jellyfish directly across from us, fluttering around the tank the way he made my heart flutter in my chest. “I still feel like I should say it’s too much.”

  He pressed my fingertips against his lips and kissed each one softly, drawing all my attention to his clever mouth. “Why would you deny me the pleasure of doing things for you? I didn’t get upset when you brought me lemon bars.”

  “That’s different,” I said, my voice shaky because he had turned my hand into Jell-O.

  “Not to me. If our financial situations were reversed, would you still think that?”

  Think? He wanted me to think? How was I supposed to think when he made everything inside me quiver? He probably had a point. Possibly. Had someone infused his lips with magic so that every time he touched me with them I was put under a spell? One that made me mindless and so full of need for him that it shut everything else out?

  As if he knew exactly what was happening to me, he flashed me a knowing grin and pulled me into a kiss that made me very glad jellyfish don’t have eyes.

  After spending the afternoon in the aquarium, where we had occasionally looked at fish, he took me back to his place. The sun had begun to set, but he didn’t let me relax on the deck and enjoy it. Instead, he led me to the kitchen, where a big beige rectangular box sat on the counter. “That’s for you. Open it,” he encouraged, looking pleased with himself.

  A present? I carefully undid the pink ribbon, pulled off the lid, and moved the tissue paper to find a pink skirt and a collared white shirt. “I don’t get it.”

  “Look at the bottom of the skirt.”

  There was a black poodle with a leash at the bottom.

  “We’re going on our 1950s date. But we have to go upstairs and get changed. What do you say?”

  Did he just sit around and think of adorable things for us to do? “I say that sounds like a lot of fun. What did you have in mind?”

  “It’s another surprise,” he said as he came over and wrapped his arms around me. “All the guest bedrooms upstairs have en suite bathrooms, so you can choose whichever one you want. Or . . . you could join me in my room, and we could get changed together.” My brain knew he was joking, but apparently the rest of my body did not get the message.

  “Which room is yours?” I asked in a breathy voice, and I felt him go still. “So that I can avoid it.”

  He nipped my neck in response to my teasing, then led me upstairs and pointed out his room. I chose the guest room farthest from it.

  “Go put those bobby socks on, because I plan on knocking them off!” he said just before I closed the door, laughing.

  It looked like a hotel room. Big, fluffy white comforter with huge pillows, everything perfectly clean and expensive-looking. Like someone had cut out a page from a decorating magazine and copied it exactly.

  The bathroom was more of the same. Gleaming granite and tile, everything sparkling. And all the drawers were full. There were brand-new toothbrushes and toothpaste and hairbrushes and rubber bands and deodorant and mouthwash—every drawer I opened had more still-packaged toiletries.

  I got into my 1950s outfit and put my hair up in a ponytail. I didn’t even want to know how he’d managed to get me clothing without knowing my size, but everything fit. Even the white canvas tennis shoes I’d worn today matched.

  I brushed my teeth and wasn’t sure what to do with the toothbrush now that I’d used it, so I just left everything on the counter. I made my way downstairs and found Chase standing in the living room, and my heart stopped.

  Now, I was never one of those women who fangirled over Elvis Presley or James Dean. But looking at Chase with his hair combed up, wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans with a black leather jacket, I totally got it.

  “There you are, gorgeous. I had dinner delivered. Including one milk shake with two straws. You ready to go to the drive-in?”

  “Drive-in?” I repeated, forcing my feet to move forward and telling myself to stop gawking at him. I didn’t think there were any drive-ins nearby.

  “Just follow me.” We walked out the front door. Chase carried the food. I offered to help, but he wouldn’t let me. We went around to the side of his house where there was a huge movie screen set up in front of his garage door and an old black fifties convertible in the driveway. He must have had someone do this while we were upstairs.

  “How?” was all I could ask.

  Chase put the food in the middle of the front seat and opened the door for me. Then he ran around to his side and jumped in without using his door. “That’s how the cool cats do it,” he informed me, grinning at my laughter.

  “This is an awesome car. But if we’re using this, then how are Danny and Sandy going to get to heaven?”

  Chase handed me a burger with one of his soul-stealing smiles. “Tonight we’ll be watching Rebel Without a Cause.”

  He pushed a button on the projector set up on the hood. The movie started, and I took a big bite of my food. After I swallowed, I said, “I can’t believe you had someone set all this up for us.”

  “I pay the salary of the guy who set all this up, so in a way it’s like I did it.”

  It wasn’t like that at all, but he seemed so proud of himself. “Tell One-F thank you for me.”

  We watched the movie, eating our
dinner, sharing our chocolate milk shake. Which might not have been all that sanitary, but considering the amount of spit already swapped between us, it was not a big deal.

  When we finished eating, I slid across the seat, and he put his arm around my shoulders and held me tight. I laid my head against his shoulder. The smell of leather filled my nose. There was just something about being with him that felt right. Made me feel safe.

  As if I had figured out where I really belonged.

  Watching the movie, I had to revise my earlier opinion about James Dean fangirling. Because Chase was a thousand times hotter and would have performed the role a thousand times better. I might also have been distracted because Chase was drawing patterns on my arm just below my sleeve, making me crazy.

  The movie ended, and Chase had to let go of me to lean over and turn the digital projector off. “What did you think?”

  I knew he meant the movie, but I asked him something else. “When did you know you were interested in me?”

  He went back to where he’d been sitting and put his arm around me again. He kissed the top of my head before answering. “When you didn’t send me any ungrammatical declarations of physical interest on Twitter. Although a few might have been nice.” He yelped when I hit his arm, then laughed. “And you weren’t an Emoji Wan Kenobi. I also appreciated the fact that you didn’t proposition me five minutes after meeting me in person. I didn’t know whether to find it refreshing or worry I was losing my touch.”

  “You haven’t lost your . . .” I let my words trail off when I saw his self-satisfied smirk.

  “What about you? When did you know you were interested in me?”

  “I was fourteen the first time you made me blush.” I put my hand over his heart and felt the steady thump-thump under my palm.

  He took my hand from his chest, lifted it, and kissed the inside of my wrist, making me gasp. “Interesting. Explain.”

  That wasn’t going to happen. “You’ll have to get it out of me,” I said, pulling my hand free and lifting his arm off my shoulders.

  “And just where do you keep your answers? Because I’m happy to search for them.”

  I smiled, then climbed into the back. “I have another movie for you. It’s called Zoe and Chase Make Out in the Back Seat of a 1950 Chevy Convertible.”

  He got up on his knees and slid off his leather jacket. “I don’t know. Doesn’t seem very 1950s appropriate to me. The making out, not the car.”

  “I’ve seen Grease. Very era appropriate.” I crooked my index finger, beckoning him to join me.

  A second later he was sitting next to me in the back seat. “Okay. You convinced me. Even though they made that movie in the 1970s.”

  I giggled, sliding my arms around his neck as he pulled me close. “Here’s a preview.” I leaned in to kiss him and fell into the delicious heat and taste of him, loving the way he made my pulse thump and my spine melt.

  “Nice trailer,” he murmured against my lips. “I’m very much looking forward to the feature-length version.”

  With a smile, I showed him the whole movie.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Life proceeded as normal over the following weeks. Well, as normal as it could be when your boyfriend starred in major motion pictures. I went to school, did my job, volunteered at the Foundation, and spent whatever free time I had with Chase. He had an unpredictable schedule, so we squeezed in time together whenever we could. We stayed in mostly. Played video games, watched movies and TV (especially Jeopardy!, although as soon as the theme music played, Chase would call out “Who is Alex Trebek?” every time we watched), and spent a lot of time kissing until we were breathless.

  I didn’t spend as much time with Lexi or my family as I normally did, but they seemed to understand. Especially Lexi.

  The one serious problem I had was that I didn’t want our nights to end. I hated leaving him. And Chase didn’t make things better by telling me how much he wanted me to stay. Not to fool around or take things further than I wanted but just because we loved being together.

  If this was how addiction worked, I was beginning to understand how hard it had been for him. I had teased him about going to Zoe rehab, but I might seriously need Chase Covington rehab.

  One morning after another late night with my boyfriend, Lexi pulled me out of bed. “Come on, Chase Covington is on The Helen Show.”

  “Yeah, I . . .” My voice trailed off as I realized what I had almost admitted to. That I knew he had already filmed the interview that aired that day. He had started a press tour for his newly released movie, Shadow of Time, and would have to leave for Europe soon. I was dreading it.

  I grabbed my bowl of Lucky Charms while Lexi commanded the commercials to hurry up. “They had Amelia Swan on earlier, and you should be glad the TV is still in one piece. Skank. They’re doing the press tour for that new time-traveling movie where he comes from the present to the 1940s to stop World War II, and she’s the stupid tramp he falls in love with.”

  They showed a clip from the movie, with Chase looking extraordinarily dashing in a mid-twentieth-century army uniform, saying goodbye to Amelia Swan’s character. Then he crushed her against his mouth and kissed her desperately.

  I dropped my spoon. It was like somebody had punched me in the gut. Hard.

  Lexi muttered some unkind things under her breath. I was starting to share in her hatred of Amelia.

  “Please welcome Chase Covington to the show!”

  Chase walked in, and the audience went bonkers. Like, I expected underwear to start flying through the air given how they screamed. He flashed them my favorite charming grin, waving as he went over to Helen and hugged her hello.

  “So it must be rough to be so unattractive that nobody can stand to look at you,” Helen teased, and Chase laughed as the audience of women started screaming all over again.

  “How are things? How are you?” the hostess asked once the hysterics died down.

  “Good. Good. And you?”

  “Nobody is watching right now to find out what’s going on in my life. They want to know about this.” Helen pointed at the screen behind them, and I stopped breathing when I saw the picture. It was one of the Disneyland photos. Not our private ones, but one taken by somebody in the crowd.

  “About Disneyland? I highly recommend it,” Chase said.

  “That’s not what I meant. Is it?” she asked the audience, and they all started screaming again. Helen waved her hands, trying to get them to calm down. “I mean, is this your girlfriend? Are you seeing someone? Do you have a significant other? Is there someone special in your life? If I knew another language, I would ask you in that.”

  The audience chuckled, and Chase didn’t hesitate. The genuine smile never left his face. “I’m not seeing anyone. I don’t have a girlfriend or a significant other. There’s no one special in my life. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  That earned him more screams, whistles, and catcalls. A concrete brick settled in the pit of my stomach, and it was like someone had sucked all the oxygen from the room, making it impossible to breathe.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, since that’s kind of my job, who is the girl in the pictures?”

  “Just someone who used to work for me.” He sounded so nonchalant.

  My brain reminded me, Chase lies about personal things in interviews. But my heart said, He doesn’t feel about you the way you feel about him.

  He talked more about the movie and waved off rumors about him and Amelia by saying, “We’re just friends. She’s a talented actress I admire and respect, but there’s nothing else going on.” Then they went to commercial, ending Chase’s segment. Lexi clicked off the TV.

  “I’ve got to get ready for my improv class,” she said, standing up. “Come talk to me while I do. Tell me how things with you and Noah are going. I feel like I hardly see you anymore. Which means things must be going good.”

  I was so distracted by Chase’s announcement that he didn’t have a girlfriend that i
t took me a second to remember she wasn’t actually talking about Noah from work. “Things are good.” This morning notwithstanding. I stopped by our room to grab my cell phone. Somebody had some explaining to do.

  Lexi headed for the bathroom, and I saw her plug in her flat iron. “And have you had the talk?”

  “Birds and bees?” I asked, sitting on the side of the bathtub and turning on my phone. “Had it when I was twelve.”

  “I meant the talk where you define the relationship. You mentioned he’s commitment shy. Is that still the situation?”

  The guy who just announced on national television that I wasn’t his girlfriend? “The only thing he’s committed to right now are his commitment issues,” I muttered, opening my messaging app. I texted Chase.

  She grabbed a lock of her hair and clamped the iron around it. “He must be serious about you.”

  “Right now I feel like I’m in this alone. Like his feelings aren’t as strong as mine.”

  Lexi met my eyes in the mirror. “Zoe, don’t. Don’t go there.”

  Problem was, I already lived there. It wasn’t like it was a long commute. “We’re in this, like, bubble situation. Everything’s good when we’re together, but we don’t really discuss the future or where things are going.”

  “Things can’t stay that way forever,” she said and put down her iron to turn and face me. “Like on that shark show you made me watch. You have to keep moving forward or you die.”

  My phone buzzed with Chase’s response.

  I knew that, because One-F always copied me on Chase’s schedule. I still felt frustrated, though. I had just seen him kiss someone else and deny my existence. I felt vulnerable and needy and insecure, and I didn’t like it, and it ended up making me upset. I mumbled something to Lexi about needing to get dressed.

  And once I was dressed, I decided to bake something, as that was the only thing that could calm me down when I was mad. The more time passed, the more pissed off I got.