When a Star Falls (Stars Book 1)

by Rachael Eliker

  I raised an eyebrow and grinned. “But I didn’t keep you from falling. If anything, I probably caused you to fall harder.”

  “Maybe, but you lessened the blow,” he said with one of his sexy smirks. There went my skin again, igniting heatedly and making me wish a breeze would blow by.

  At the restaurant, I stared at the high ceilings in the lobby all the way down to the immaculate, smooth-as-glass marble floor. At our table, I soaked in the atmosphere which permeated the entire space. Real linen napkins, a flickering candle in a glazed votive, bowties on all the waiters. It’d been quite a while since I’d been in a place this ritzy, being a poor college student and all.

  “Is something the matter?” Collin’s question interrupted my reverie.

  I could tell by the way his eyes glimmered and darted about, that he was always analyzing something except when he looked at me. Then, it was just the two of us in the room, and nothing else was important to him.

  “No. Everything’s perfect,” I murmured.

  The waiter took our orders and left us with a variety basket of freshly baked rolls while we waited. In the middle of a story about my fifth-grade choir concert where I’d been granted my first solo, I popped a morsel of rye in my mouth just as my ankle accidently brushed Collin’s. The unexpected touch made my breath hitch, sending the bread down my throat before I’d finished chewing. I coughed loudly, reaching for my water to force it down.

  Collin sat up straight in his seat, ready to spring into action. “Are you alright?” A few other tables near us turned their attention to me, wondering what the ruckus was all about.

  I let out another unladylike hack and patted my chest. “Why? Are you going to offer mouth to mouth?” Oh, good heavens. Was I flirting? It’d been long enough that I might’ve forgotten how.

  My forwardness made Collin chuckle. “I’m willing to be the Good Samaritan if the need arises.”

  “Thanks. My mom would tell me that’s what I get for talking with food in my mouth, but I’m fine,” I said, taking another swig of water. “So, tell me, Mr. Rocket Man, what are your plans for the future? What’s the end goal of that fancy degree you’re getting?”

  Collin sat back in his seat and knit his fingers together in front of his chest. When he stretched out his long legs and they grazed mine again, I felt another electric jolt zip through my nervous system.

  “I’ve got a job lined up with StarTech. They’re an up and coming company that’s just about to go public. I interned with them for a few summers and the work was incredible. I was literally there, with my hands on the actual rockets that were going to be making test flights into space and docking with the space station.”

  I nodded slowly, my brain reminding me that I’d heard of them before. “My roommate Vanessa told me that eventually, their goal is human exploration of Mars.”

  “That’s right. Incredible stuff is happening on the front of space travel.”

  I faked a pout and teased, “Are you planning on volunteering to colonize Mars? That’d be an awfully long time between dates.”

  “Not likely,” Collin said with a throaty laugh. “Manned missions aren’t quite on the horizon yet.” Collin took a sip of his water and asked, “What about you? You mentioned that you enjoyed music on the bus, and obviously, you’re a talented composer, but you said you didn’t enjoy performing? From what I heard, you sounded fantastic.”

  I scrunched my face and asked, “When did you hear me…?”

  “On my way up to your apartment.”

  “Those were just warmup arpeggios.”

  “I don’t know what those are, but they were very good.”

  “The door filters things,” I mumbled, avoiding his eyes. My notorious inability to accept compliments could turn a conversation awkward faster than my niece Chloe could run away with a fistful of freshly baked cookies.

  He laughed and waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t think music filtering through doors makes people sound better than they are.”

  I straightened my spine, deciding I wouldn’t downplay my talents. I’d been applauded at enough gigs to know that people liked my voice. Work was steady, and I’d been booking increasingly large venues in the past year. “You could say I’m very good.”

  Collin perked up and smirked mischievously, the way I always imagined a fox did right before it tricked a rabbit into hopping in its mouth. “I dare you to perform. Right here, right now.”

  I sputtered and the water I was trying to delicately sip ran down my chin. I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand, grinning stupidly. “Here? Now? That might get me thrown out if I’m not careful. I don’t know that they’d take kindly to uninvited live performances.”

  “I don’t think they have that situation occur all that often.”

  “It’s just...tonight? I wasn’t planning on singing for anyone.”

  Collin leaned forward on his elbows and pointed out, “There’s a grand piano over there that’s been lonely all night. I’d bet another round of teaching Dr. Petrov’s class that you play the piano, too.”

  I laughed, looking over my shoulder at the sleek, black piano that was oddly unused. I always imaged the tinkling music through the air in restaurants like this. “Yes, I will admit that I can play, though I’m no Chopin. Besides, I never envisioned myself as a lounge singer.”

  “Why not?”

  “Not my style.”

  Collin thoughtfully ran his hand along his jawline to his chin and it took a great amount of self-control on my part not to reach over and touch his face too. “You’re just being modest. I bet you can adjust to fit any atmosphere.”

  I rolled my eyes playfully. “I’m being realistic. I don’t have the rich, smooth voice that’s needed for a room like this. That’s why my roommate and I get along so well.”

  Collin sat back in his seat and put his arms behind his head, with clearly no intention of leaving anytime soon. “All I’m hearing are excuses. I don’t think you’re one to chicken out, though.”

  “Oh?” I said lightly, crossing my arms across my stomach.

  Collin grinned like he knew something I didn’t, studying me. “You’re just being modest. I think you hide behind your roommate and her voice because it saves you from the risk of failure.”

  By twenty-one, I’d given hundreds of performances, singing in school choirs, musicals, the National Anthem at basketball games, at wedding receptions, karaoke in bars and low-key duets in cafes…all had been done with the usual performance jitters, but the thought of singing uninvited by the restaurant at Collin’s special request for some reason made my stomach feel like an unruly sea—maybe I shouldn’t have eaten another piece of rye. He was one person I didn’t want to disappoint. Sooner or later, he was going to hear me belt out a tune. Music was in my blood.

  “Alright. I’ll sing something special for you, but it’s going to cost you. I rarely perform for free.”

  “Well, I’m your biggest fan. Name your price.”

  Chapter Four

  I scooted my chair away from the table and stood, holding Collin’s gaze momentarily before my brain convinced my body to move in the direction of the piano. I did my best to sashay my way there, trying to remember what Vanessa had said when she gave me pointers about how my hips should sway independent of my shoulders, but I was sure any wiggling in heels, where the likelihood of a stumble or two was probable, was only going to make me appear inebriated. So, instead, I walked stiffly, staying as close as possible to chairs and tables in case I tripped. At least I’d have something to grab hold of to prevent a total faceplant.

  Nobody seemed to notice me walking past, and even as I scooted out the piano bench and adjusted the height, I was largely invisible to the other restaurant patrons. I supposed my understated black dress could very well have qualified me as a lounge singer in that ritzy place.

  Ignoring the butterflies that had hatched in my stomach, I wiped the sweat off the palms of my hands onto my thighs. After turning on the micro
phone and pulling it close to my mouth, I placed my fingers on the keys, the familiar smoothness steadying my trembling hands. Almost without exception, when I first composed music, it was done sitting at one of the school’s pianos where I could tinker with melodies and chords before transitioning music over to guitar. It was an oversimplified version of the final song but the spirit of the music was still there.

  In a split second, my mind ran through the dozens of songs I’d written, wondering which I’d dare perform. Most I could sing upside down, with my hands tied and dead asleep. Looking back at Collin and meeting his excited, expectant eyes and seeing his lips curl into that smile that made a few of my internal organs melt, I decided that I was going to take a terrible risk. I was going to play Heart on Fire. It seemed fitting that he was present for my very first public run through.

  I turned my attention back to the piano and struck the opening notes, ever so softly and carefully. The noise level backed off and I was keenly aware that people had turned in their seats to see the live entertainment I was providing. Closing my eyes, I let myself feel the emotion of the song and got a little caught up in the lyrics. When I opened them, I scanned the crowd and saw our table was empty. My heart leapt into my mouth. Where had Collin disappeared to? I thought it’d been going well, but maybe I’d overestimated our connection, and the song was too sappy. Or maybe I’d been boring him all night, and he saw an out when he shoved me into the spotlight.

  The prickling sting of tears threatened at the back of my eyes, and my voice faltered slightly, right as I sang about the harrowing thought of loneliness. How fitting to be at the climax of the heartrending lyrics right as I realized I’d been abandoned on my first date. I knew this was all too good to be true.

  A man recording me on his phone caught the corner of my eye. It wasn’t unusual to have people take a video, but at the moment, feeling quite miserable, I didn’t feel like smiling for the camera. I looked over to him and realized it was Collin holding up his phone. He smiled and gave a thumbs up, nearly making me laugh. The anguish and embarrassment that had almost made me sick dissolved and was replaced with a joy so resplendent I could have floated away. How ironic that I could feel all the emotions of the song as I sang about them. It reaffirmed to me that my composition was something special.

  I gave a flourishing end to the song and was met with roaring applause. Quelling my smile to remain modest, I stood, my shoulder bumping the microphone and knocking it off the piano. I fumbled and caught it, turning it off to kill the ringing feedback. Quickly, I gave a brief curtsey and weaved my way back through the smattering of tables, giving a few handshakes along the way. I sat down and took a long draw of water, my eyes hovering on Collin as he typed out something on his phone before putting it away. His grin grew wider when his eyes met mine, and he strolled over to the table, hands in pockets.

  “That was very good,” he complimented.

  “Always pleased when I don’t disappoint.”

  “I imagine you very rarely disappoint.”

  I gave a one shouldered shrug and answered, “I do what I can.”

  As we finished our meal, the manager came out and requested a business card from me. “I must say, that’s the first time we had an unexpected guest at the piano. Our normal pianist is home with the flu.”

  “That’s a shame,” I agreed, handing him a business card I pulled out of my wallet. “I bet music is the cherry on top of this place.”

  The manager studied my card, turning it over in his hands and said, “I’ll be contacting you. I think our regulars would enjoy a change of musicians once in a while.”

  “Oh, I’m not really a lounge singer,” I mumbled.

  The manager and Collin exchanged a glance and the manager said, “Could have fooled me.” He walked away, stopping to visit with a table, asking them how they enjoyed their meal before disappearing behind the swinging double doors of the kitchen.

  Our waiter brought us each a delectable slice of hazelnut chocolate cheesecake after taking our main plates away. Collin and I were just getting back into a conversation, enjoying each creamy, nutty bite of cheesecake, when I managed to tip the rest of my ice-cold water onto my lap. It pooled momentarily on my dress before it soaked through the fabric. I dabbed up what I could with my napkin while Collin handed me his, his shoulders shaking with repressed laughter.

  “I’m not always this klutzy, I promise,” I said, stifling my own giggle.

  “Do I make you nervous?” he teased, waggling his eyebrows.

  Another shrill giggle escaped my lips. Collin reached over the table and rested his hand over the top of mine, locking his gaze in mine. A very pleasant dose of adrenaline buzzed around in me, either from his smoldering good looks or his warm touch or both, I didn’t care. I stood up on trembling knees. “Excuse me. I should make a visit to the ladies room to assess the damage. Fingers crossed there’s an automatic hand dryer.”

  I excused myself and started for the bathroom. I couldn’t help but feel like I was in seventh heaven, despite all my horrifying blunders. A sharp slap to my rear end brought me right back down to earth.

  “Ruby!” a man slurred from behind.

  As I jerked around, protectively holding my hands on my backside, he looked at me through dazed, muddy brown eyes. Something about his face was familiar—I’d seen that rounded nose and cleft chin somewhere before.

  “Do I—”

  He cut me off, staggering a step closer. His eyes had that glazed over, inebriated look I’d seen before when performing at bars and I knew it meant one thing: trouble. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about me already. It’s Ernie!”

  I couldn’t help but squirm as his eyes lazily followed my curves. He had alcohol on his breath, and I had to hold mine to keep from being overpowered by the stench of it. “You sang at my sister’s wedding this summer. I’m the one who got you the gig since I’d been to a dozen of your shows. I’m your biggest fan!”

  “Ah, right. Ernie,” I said sweetly, crossing my arms in front of me, mostly the keep him from touching me. Thinking quickly, I tried to throw him off guard. “What’s my favorite knock knock joke?”

  Ernie’s thin lips gaped open but his brain couldn’t seem to compute my question.

  “You honestly don’t know?” I mocked. “What kind of super fan are you? I don’t think you’re as committed to my fame as you claim you are. If you’ll excuse me, I’m here with a real devotee, and I should get back to him.”

  Ernie looked confused, so I took the opportunity to sidestep him, but he reached out and grabbed my hand. “Just because you came with someone doesn’t mean you can’t leave with me.” He leaned over and kissed my knuckles. Though his hands were lubricated with sweat, I couldn’t seem to slip my fingers from his slimy grip. When he removed his lips, he left behind a string of drool that made me shudder with revulsion.

  I was about to yank away and unleash my inner demons to chew him out for leaving behind his DNA on my knuckles when a hand clapped down on Ernie’s slumped shoulders. Collin wrapped his arm around him like they were old chums and smiled amiably at him. Distracted, Ernie turned his attention to Collin but didn’t release his grip. Apparently, his brain was too preoccupied with Collin to relinquish my hand.

  “Who are you?” Ernie questioned.

  Still smiling kindly, Collin said, “I’m Ruby’s biggest fan.”

  Ernie opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but instead, a high-pitched whine came out. I tugged myself away and wiped my hand on the back of my dress, only then realizing Collin had a death grip on a pressure point on Ernie’s neck. Slowly, Ernie fell to the floor, curling up in the fetal position, whimpering.

  Turning his attention back to me, Collin held up my coat for me to put on and said pleasantly, “Shall we?”

  “Oh, the bill?”

  “Already paid,” Collin assured.

  I took one last glance at Ernie but didn’t feel even a twinge of pity on his behalf. No one else seemed to eit
her. Someone had called over the manager, who informed security. They scraped Ernie off the floor, dragging him somewhere beyond the sight of paying guests. Collin gently pressed me toward the exit with his hand on the small of my back, the gesture feeling reassuring rather than pushy. The Ernies of the world could take a lesson from Collin on how to treat a lady.

  Outside felt like the arctic tundra had blown in while we were inside eating, and wisps of steam curled from my lips as I exhaled sharply. I retreated down into my coat and pulled the collar up to give me even the tiniest bit more protection. Within moments, the wet spot on my borrowed dress froze, and I was chilled down to the bone.

  “Sorry about that in there,” I blurted. “Sometimes that happens. After I perform, all the creeps start coming out of the woodwork, trying to stake a claim.”

  “I hope I don’t qualify as a creep coming out of the woodwork,” Collin said with a sideways wink and a glance. I loved the easiness of being around him, how he casually walked with his hands in his pockets, and how I kept catching him staring sideways at me.

  “Not at all. I appreciate your help.”

  “It’s nothing,” he said, waving away my gratitude. “You handled yourself well. I don’t know many people who confuse aggressive drunks with knock knock joke trivia.”

  I laughed and shrugged. “Humor is one of the things I revert to when I’m nervous. It’s a way of keeping the ball in my court and defusing the situation since I’m not one for confrontation. Most of the time it works.”

  “Very clever,” Collin complimented.

  “I suppose you took karate or jujitsu or something?”

  “Hmm? You mean what I did to Ernie? Ah, no. Scouts.”

  I nodded. “Self-defense merit badge?”

  “No, no. Scout camp. Boys are always trying to hurt each other for no good reason."

  “Ah,” I nodded and chuckled. “That would explain my nephews.”

  “I wasn’t always the biggest kid, but I mastered pressure points and was able to win quite a few of the, well, afterhours contests.”