Untangling The Stars

by Alyse Miller

  Tandy Cobb had a way of looking directly at you and down at you at the exact same time. Andie knew she shouldn't feel insecure in this woman’s shadow, but she kind of did. Tandy just fit in so much better than she did. Look at her outfit for goodness sake. Compared to Tandy’s A-line Nine West number, Andie’s cable-knit sweater and jeans looked downright homespun. And that was without adding in the ponytail or the googly eyes. Oh well.

  “Sorry, Alessandra. Hate to barge in…” She waved dismissively in Hilary’s general direction. The poor girl had a look on her face like a mouse that’d just watched a cat stroll in the room. “But gala business calls. Got a sec?”

  Fucking Tandy.

  “Hang on, Tandy.” Andie pinpointed her gaze on Hilary’s startled face. Tandy may fit in better up in the administrative offices, but she was way out of her league when it came to students. Andie may not have the stuck up wardrobe to prove it, but she had the upper hand.

  “Hilary, who is the character that you love to watch—can’t take your eyes off of when their show—or movie—is on?”

  Hilary bit her lip nervously. A twinge of recognition crossed her face. Obviously, she’d just thought of someone.

  “Well, I really like that old 80s Beauty and the Beast series—the one with Linda Hamilton and Ron Perlman? I always really loved Vincent.”

  Andie chucked her doubts on Hilary clear out the metaphorical window. The girl was spot on, and it wasn’t some mushy wish fulfillment after all (thank God for that). That show (for those who remembered it, since it had lasted only three short seasons in the late 1980s) was one of Andie’s favorites. It was also one of the portrayals of the dynamic and oft-romanticized relationship between man and monster that had made Andie design this very class. Perlman had played Vincent, a mythic, noble man-beast with the face of a lion, and Hamilton an Assistant DA in New York. The show had focused on the empathetic bond of their relationship, as well as with a secret Utopian community of social outcasts. Perlman was perfect for the role. In Andie’s opinion, he’d nailed his portrayal of Hellboy, too.

  “Why Vincent?” It was mostly rhetorical. Tandy impatiently clicked the point of her too-tall heels on the tiled floor but Andie kept her eyes on Hilary.

  “Well,” Hilary looked nervous, but she swallowed and continued, “Because he’s Catherine’s guardian, but he never turns into some beautiful prince or anything. He helps us to see beyond the monster on the surface and get to know him as beautiful inside himself. It kind of makes me think of how girls are treated by society today.”

  Andie wished she could hug the girl, but it was against policy. She’d been reminded before. No hugging the students.

  “It’s perfect, Hilary.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” she nodded for emphasis. “Perfect.”

  For the first time since she walked in, Hilary’s smile wasn’t anxious. She beamed as she turned to go.

  Andie waved Hilary goodbye and returned to Tandy, who was now featuring a bewildered-but-bored stare. “What the heck was that all about?”

  “Class stuff. What’s up with the gala?”

  Determination flanked both sides of Tandy’s pretty face. She poked Andie’s shoulder with an accusatory pink nail. “Hey, where were you last night? I must have called you a hundred times.”

  “Busy. Just out.” There was no way Andie was telling Tandy about Guy. Luckily, it was an easier lie than she’d thought it would be. Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie, but it definitely wasn’t a truth that Andie was ready to share with anyone just yet.

  Tandy rolled her eyes. She obviously didn’t believe Andie’s story but had more urgent matters in mind. “We heard back from Kant, Baker, and the Bronco’s manager, and all of our last-resort options that we didn’t want anyway aren’t even available. We have no keynote speaker for the gala, and that simply isn’t going to work, Andie. We need to fix this—now.” She swooped around Andie and plopped resolutely in her desk chair, fanning her face dramatically.

  The way Tandy said “we” sounded an awful lot like “you.” Andie rolled her eyes toward the empty classroom and turned around. “What do you want me to do, Tandy? We have to keep looking. We’ll find someone. We always do.”

  “The gala is in three weeks. Three weeks. I don’t know about you, but staying awake all night worrying myself silly over this isn’t good for my eyes. I don’t need puffy eyes, Andie.”

  Tandy’s very unpuffy eyes sized up Andie’s glasses. “Why are you wearing glasses today? You look tired.”

  “Allergies.”

  Judging by the criticizing slant to Tandy’s eyes, she wasn’t buying it. Andie changed the subject quickly and took a seat on top of her own desk, since Tandy clearly wasn’t offering the chair back up.

  “Look, it’s not so bad. If all else fails, we’ll bring in the dean of the English department—or maybe the provost. I know it’s not especially exciting for us, but it’s still a good title to bring in to a literacy fundraiser.”

  “Well I guess that could work, but what a letdown.”

  Grasping Tandy’s hands in her own, Andie gave her a reassuring squeeze. The girl was a headache more often than not, but she’d always been a good friend. Sure, Andie might want to shake her by the shoulders every so often, but then again, who didn’t want to give their friends and good shaking now and then. “We have a fail-safe. And we have three weeks. We’re golden. We will keep looking for a headliner, and no matter what, we’ll put on the best damned gala anyone has seen.”

  “You’re sure you don’t know anyone else we can ask?”

  Andie was glad she hadn’t mentioned Guy to Tandy. He’d been so worried about introducing her to his paparazzi, she definitely didn’t want to be the presumptuous one-date girl who started asking for favors for her friends. That didn’t feel too far from referring to them exclusively as “We” or bringing home a new puppy.

  “No, ma’am, not a soul.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Three classes, six hours, and seventeen graded papers later, the long night had caught up with Andie, and it was all she could do to keep her eyes open. She pulled her glasses off and rubbed her temples with her thumbs. The big wooden desk at the front of her classroom had never looked so comfortable, and seeing as how she’d spent more than a few nights asleep on its hard surface, that was saying something. She kicked off her shoes, twisted one leg up under the other, and laid her head on a fresh stack of printed research. Dr. Monotone McGee had published a new paper, rah, rah, rah. It could wait till tomorrow.

  She opened her eyes to the feeling of warm fingers brushing lightly on her shoulder.

  “Well, hi, Sleeping Beauty.”

  The fingers on her arm belong to Guy, who looking dashing with the collar of his leather jacket turned up inside the ends of his hair. Double dashing—he was holding matching white paper coffee cups. Andie could never resist a man bringing her coffee.

  Andie rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth and pulled herself upright. Please tell me I’m not drooling. Her hair had fallen loose and she shoved it behind her ears. What she wouldn’t have given for two seconds in a mirror. One date didn’t give you license to show up to the next one looking like…well, like you’d just woken up. There was protocol to follow here, and bed head and drool was at least a third date thing. At least she assumed it was; she’d hadn’t been having too much luck in the dating game lately.

  “My hero.” Andie accepted the cup Guy offered her. Just waking up had left her a tad groggy, which was a good thing or she’d have snatched the cup from his hand like some depraved caffeine fiend. She took a sip and smiled. The unmarked cups didn’t need a bright label to tell Andie where it had come from. Cinnamon, nutmeg, and something else—Scott’s recipe had never tasted so delicious. “You’re a quick learner. I see you’ve picked up on the best café in town. You thinking of becoming a local?”

  Guy laughed and pulled up a chair beside her. “Well, if your friend Scott has anything to say about it, I
just might. Not sure if you’d have me though.” He nudged against her side lightly when he said the last, giving her a wink out of the corner of his eye.

  Andie laughed and nudged him back. “I think I could manage.”

  “He seems really fond of you, too.” Guy’s words had a bitter flavor to them.

  “Are you jealous, Mr. Wilder?” You can’t possibly be. Andie heard the slur in her words. The chai was like a sweet lullaby, lulling her back to sleep.

  “Not in the way you think.” Guy’s teasing smile evaporated into a pout. He took a silent sip from his cup and kept his eyes downcast. After last night, Andie had almost forgotten Guy could look like that. That anxious, brooding man she’d first met seemed like a stranger from a lifetime ago. Last Night Guy was much more fun. That was the Guy she wanted to see again now.

  “Then, why so glum?”

  “Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Guy laid his cheek against the top of her head. His words were kind, but his tone almost reeked of condescension. Andie could see that Guy’s jaw had set back into that glowering, rigid line. It was the same one he’d worn when he’d gotten so pissy that she hadn’t carried a giant neon sign announcing “I’m the Professor” when they’d first met.

  Andie rolled her eyes and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Not this again. So much for Last Night Guy. “Okay then. I won’t. Thanks for the latte.” The all too familiar feel of tension sizzled between them.

  With her eyes rolled upward, she could see him glare stubbornly at her, but she was determined not to break first. He could glare to kingdom come. Minutes ticked by with neither of them speaking. Finally, Guy broke. He made a frustrated, groaning sound. The edge of his jaw softened. “It’s nothing, Andie. Really.” He attempted a kiss on her cheek, but she turned her head slightly. His lips brushed her hair instead.

  “Andie,” he pleaded. The absurdity made her giggle. As much as she hated false “nothings,” she didn’t need to push it. He’d tell her eventually. He tried her cheek for a kiss again. This time she stayed still, but just out of the reach of Guy’s lips.

  “Aw, Andie.” Guy’s voice was playful and the words came out in a singsong whisper, like John Travolta serenading Olivia Newton-John in Grease. “Oh, Sandy…”

  “Hmm?” She tried to give him the cold shoulder, but let out a small laugh. Damn him for being so stinking cute.

  “Andie.”

  She didn’t avoid his kiss this time. Instead, she turned to face him.

  When he moved in to kiss her this time, she allowed it to land. It wasn’t a playful kiss. It was tender and intimate with soft, with rolling lips and careful tongues. For a second, Guy paused long enough for Andie to open her eyes and see him gazing back at her, and then his palm cupped against the side of her face and brought her back to him. He held her and kissed her, and she never wanted it to end.

  ***

  “What are you doing here anyway?”

  He pressed a leftover kiss onto her cheek and leaned back. He took a sip of his coffee and winced—the coffee must have cooled during all the kissing.

  Guy shrugged. “I texted you a few times, you didn’t respond. I got…concerned.”

  “Concerned?” She must have slept through the buzzes. Go figure.

  Was he blushing? “A guy can’t get concerned when the girl he spent an amazing evening with doesn’t take his calls? I was worried that I did something to scare you off.”

  Now she was definitely blushing. “I’m sorry; I must have slept through them.”

  “So it’s a good thing I decided to track you down then. Would hate to have you wake up tomorrow morning with a stiff neck from sleeping on your desk all night.”

  “True that.” Andie suddenly felt the need to stretch. She pulled her arms above her head, tugging each arm by its wrist. It felt amazing. She must have been asleep longer than she’d realized. Too bad she couldn’t reheat her latte. Still, a lukewarm sip was better than no sip.

  “Scott didn’t happen to divulge the details of his secret chai latte recipe to you, did he?”

  “No, ma’am. He did not.”

  “Rats.”

  “He did threaten to sic his guard dog on me, though, if I displayed any ungentlemanly behavior toward a certain blonde professor who is currently wearing an exceptionally darling pair of little earrings with—what are those, bunnies?” His eyes looked just beyond her face and pretended to study her ears as he pulled her chair into his, locking her knees between his.

  “They are bunnies. And did you see his beastly guard dog then?”

  “The ferocious yellow lab with the stuffed duck? He looked vicious.” He feigned horror. “I wish I had friends like that though. Those are hard to find.”

  Andie gave him a questioning look. “Don’t you?”

  Guy made a face that showed that he was shuffling through a mental Rolodex of names and faces. Then, “No, not like that. I don’t think I do.”

  The confession made her sad for him. Andie had always been a bit of a loner and didn’t consider herself to be a woman of many friends. Yet the few she did have—like Scott and even Tandy—she held dear. Guy was right; they were hard to find.

  The pity must have shown on her face because Guy shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I guess that’s Hollywood for you. Everybody—agents, directors, fans—wants something from you. Your name, your face, maybe your autograph—whatever. For a while, you tell yourself it’s great to be the center of attention, but, after a while, you realize they don’t actually want you. You’re just a prop.” His voice turned bitter. “They never want Guy Wilder. They want Silas Dove.”

  It took a moment for Andie to digest his words. They stung—not a personal sting, but that particular kind of sting when your heart broke under the weight of someone else’s trouble. Empathy was a mother. She tried to find the right words. They should be comforting, but not flippant; supportive, but not chiding. And as much as she cared for him, it was no easy task to force herself to focus on Guy as a person, and not a research subject, so she had to calibrate her words for that too because the interview questions were already piling up in her head. She’d long suspected something along the lines of Guy’s admission, but never had anyone to ask. What an interesting thought, though, to be ostracized among the elite for being among the elite. It reminded her again of the community of social outcasts of Hilary’s Beauty and the Beast essay.

  “Not everyone wants Silas Dove.” It’s true.

  “Sometimes I don’t even know which one I am anymore—Silas or Guy. There’s so much pressure—I don’t know when the camera is off. So much of myself is…is…I don’t know—it’s like I don’t always know when I get to stop being in character.”

  He took a deep breath and kept talking; his words sped up like this was a speech that he’d wanted to get out for some time. “Silas is a monster, right? He’s this dark, brooding, emotionally distant bastard who stays in the shadows as much by force of his nature as by his own deeply embedded securities. He’s a monster constantly fighting his own demons. And then, here I am—and I’m just a guy from small town Alaska who got his start doing infomercials and cheesy sitcom gigs, low-budget B-stuff, and somehow lucked into this. But, Guy Wilder and Silas Dove are both me. It’s not good for Silas’ image for Guy to be a smiley, huggy guy going around and—” He paused to flutter his hands in the air. “—I don’t know, just be a normal person. Gotta keep the ratings up, right? And fans want their Guy Wilder like they want their TV-playthings: dark and miserable. But that’s not who I am, or at least it didn’t used to be.”

  It seemed silly that Andie should be crying, but, silly or not, her cheeks were wet with tears. She didn’t know the struggle, but the pain that Guy shared was raw and real and it was impossible not to feel it, too. “I’m so sorry, Guy. That’s a terrible situation for any person to be in. You should never have to choose between being yourself and being who other people want you to be.”

  “That’s why I like you so much.”
<
br />   “What?” She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

  He laughed out loud and pulled her knees closer to him. “You! You’re just kind and genuine. It’s refreshing. You say what you think, feel what you feel, you just are. You’re a beacon of light in my darkness, Andie Foxglove, and I'm like a moth to a flame.”

  It was the best compliment anyone could have ever given her. “Thank you.”

  Guy traced the back of her hands with his thumb, a careful smile lighting up the shadows on his face and adding even more contour to his sharp cheekbones. “So you’ll take the man over the monster?”

  Andie couldn’t resist. She leaned in and gave him a light kiss on the perfect edge of his jawline. “Both are fine by me.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  ***

  Another hour later and Andie had finally managed to shove all her papers back into her messenger bag. Classes would be starting up again way too soon, and she was ready to cuddle up in some fluffy pajamas and scrub off whatever traces of makeup were left clinging to her skin.

  From the sounds of it, Guy could use a break, too. For the past thirty minutes, Guy had been crouched over a desk in the back corner of the classroom, arguing in brusque, hushed tones with someone on the other end of his cell phone. She would never say it, especially after his heart-wrenching and vulnerable confession earlier, but when his phone had lit up, he’d gone form Guy to Silas in about three seconds flat. “It’s my agent,” he’d grunted, and shuffled to the back of the room to take the call in private.

  “Yeah, Mad, it’s me. Yeah, your favorite pair of blue eyes is fine. Yeah, I’m still in Denver.”

  It had more or less been different varieties of that for the past half hour. The only difference was Guy’s tone had gotten more and more gruff and irritated until Andie was wincing every time Guy spoke, waiting for him to turn green and Hulk out in the upper corner. Whatever this Mad was grilling him on, it was apparently starting to piss him off.