CHAPTER SIX
He had peeled off the top part of his costume, and I got to witness firsthand that the molded muscles on his rubber suit had nothing on what was happening underneath. My mouth went completely dry, and all the hairs on my arms stood straight up. Totally unfair. The governor should pass some kind of law saying that movie stars were not allowed to be shirtless in front of mere mortals.
It was like somebody had drawn the perfect man. I had the urge to run my fingers over his abs because I wondered what they felt like. Purely out of scientific curiosity, of course. He must work out constantly to look so—
“Want something to drink?” He interrupted my train of thought as he moved into his kitchen and opened the minifridge.
“No.” I hadn’t intended it, but my reply came out in a raspy whisper. I cleared my throat. “No, I’m good.” So good. So very, very good.
Chase took out a glass bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and took a big drink. I could not stop watching his lips. His blond hair was still wet, and when he pushed it back off his forehead, it took everything inside me not to sigh. He was so effortlessly sexy. Like he had majored in it in college and then graduated with honors.
“About that assistant job . . .”
“You were serious about that?” Why did my voice sound so high?
“I do need the help,” he said almost apologetically. He came over and sat next to me on the sofa, and I almost jumped out of my skin.
His eyes really were super blue. Ice blue. Like the sky over a Scandinavian fjord on a summer day—
“I’m operating under the assumption that you’re not crazy,” he said with a smile to take some of the sting out of his words.
“I’m not crazy.” I paused. “Although I acknowledge that is what a crazy person would say. And you don’t need to do all this to get to Lexi. Just so you know.”
Confusion made his eyes go a shade darker. “Who’s Lexi?”
“My friend? The girl you did the scene with today on the bowling alley set?”
“Right.” He shook his head. “I’m not interested in Lexi.” Then he flicked me a glance that made me think he might be interested in me.
I really hoped that set medic was still hanging around. I needed her to perform CPR on me. Because my heart had stopped.
“Anyway, One-F said he’d be willing to e-mail you anything you need to know. The ER doctor said it was a minimal fracture, and he should be in a cast for only a few weeks.”
A few weeks? I wasn’t sure I could be around Chase for a few weeks. My body might spontaneously combust. But instead of telling him that, I just latched on to something innocuous. “Why do you call him One-F?” A single drop of sweat escaped Chase’s hair and made its way down his broad shoulder, over his pec, and then dropped into his lap. I forced my gaze up to meet his.
“His real name is Jef, and he spells it J-E-F. And whenever he meets someone new, he always introduces himself as ‘Jef. One F.’ When I was first starting out in film, one of my directors misheard him and called him ‘One-F’ for the entire shoot, which we thought was hilarious. It just sort of stuck.”
I probably should not have been wondering what his skin tasted like. If the sweat had turned it salty. Which, I acknowledge, is slightly gross, but don’t judge.
“Before I forget.” Chase leaned in toward me and instantly fried all of my nerves. My pulse exploded, hammering hard inside me. What was he doing? Was he going to kiss me?
But he was only reaching across me to get two envelopes off the side table. “This is for you and Lexi.”
I prayed he didn’t notice how badly my hands were shaking when he handed them to me. I opened mine and saw a few hundred dollars. “Lexi said something about getting a check from production for today. What is this?”
He looked a little sheepish. “I told one of the producers I was going to add a couple of extras to today’s scene. She said that hadn’t been budgeted for, so I took care of it.”
“You just told your boss you were adding extras, and nobody told you no?”
“People generally don’t tell me no.”
Boy, did I believe that.
And boy, did I blush at his underlying implication.
“So”—my voice sounded wobbly—“you’re paying us out of your own pocket.” Why was I repeating things he’d already clarified?
His eyes twinkled at me. “Don’t worry. I can afford it.”
“But . . . why?”
Had he moved closer to me? I could feel the warmth he gave off, and I wanted to lean into it. Wrap it around me. Like his bones were made of magnets and mine out of metal. I found it almost impossible to resist the pull.
“Because I wanted to meet you. You are the first fan who ever told me I wasn’t amazing at something. And it was so refreshing. Like I told you in that message, I started reading everything you’ve posted. It made me realize you can learn a lot about a person from their Twitter time line.” He put his hand over mine, and the entire world ground to a halt. “Something about you intrigued me. I wanted to get to know you better. Then Lexi showed up, and it was like this huge sign from the universe.”
There were so many questions I wanted to ask him about what he had just said, but all that was going through my brain on repeat was CHASE COVINGTON IS TOUCHING ME!
I was incapable of speech. Even when he slowly pulled his hand away, I sat there frozen, like I’d accidentally side-eyed Medusa. He started talking about the assistant job and what it entailed, and it essentially sounded like running errands and being available in case he suddenly needed me to run said errands. Then he told me the hourly rate, and it was more than double what Mrs. Henderson had paid me, and they had been overly generous.
“I can’t . . .” I closed my eyes for a second. I could form words. I had been doing it for decades. I knew I probably should turn him down. But I wanted it in a way that I’d never wanted anything before. “I have responsibilities. I’m in my last semester of college, and I have a twice-a-week internship. Plus, my family and other obligations. I can’t be available to you twenty-four/seven.”
“That’s a shame.” His voice was low and teasing, and I felt his words humming inside me.
“I’m serious. I can’t be your beck-and-call girl.” OMG, I had just called myself a call girl.
Which he totally caught, given the size of his grin. “I didn’t expect you to be. We’ll work something out. If that’s a yes.”
“Yes.” I hadn’t intended to say yes. I had intended to thank him for his very nice offer and go back to my regularly scheduled life.
But the word just slipped out.
“Awesome.” He stood up, and I did the same. “Send me your e-mail address and cell number through DM when you get a chance. I’ll be in touch.”
“K.” It was like I couldn’t even manage two syllables. “Okay” wasn’t that hard to say.
We just stood there. Me because I was an idiot, him because I was standing there like an idiot.
He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to go take a shower now.”
Unbidden images filled my head. “Right. Right. And I’m going to go . . . not be here.” That finally got my feet moving, and I headed to the front door.
“You know, a good assistant would offer to scrub my back,” he said in that teasing tone that made my bones turn into Jell-O.
“A great assistant would remind you that the sexual harassment laws in California are pretty severe.”
He laughed. And it was a sincere laugh, full of warmth and magic. It made me realize that all the times he’d laughed on TV shows or in movies had been fake. Because it had never sounded like this. Something tugged on my heart.
“I was right. You don’t ever give a guy a break.”
“I sure do. Just ask One-F.” Figuring that was the perfect exit line, I let myself out and closed the door, his laughter following me as I made my way to the parking structure.
I folded my arms together, unable to keep the smile off my face. Chase Covington had wanted to meet me. He seemed interested in me, which gave me this fizzy, airy feeling. I could have floated back to the car.
Busy reliving our conversation in my head, I jumped when I almost tripped over Lexi. I had totally forgotten about her.
“There you are!” she said, getting to her feet. “I was afraid I was going to have to call on Captain Sparta to find you.”
I opened my mouth, intending to tell her everything that had just happened. But something stopped me.
“Here,” I said, giving her one of the envelopes. “This was for our work as extras today.” I unlocked the car, and we got in.
As I was putting on my seat belt, she tried to give the envelope back. “I know today was hard and long and boring. Take it. So I don’t feel so guilty.”
I was the one who had something to feel guilty about. I should tell her.
I didn’t.
“No, it’s okay. You keep it.”
She sighed. “Stop being proud. Let me do this. I know you need it.”
“Actually, I found a job today.” I looked over my shoulder as I backed out, then put the car into drive to take us home.
“You did? That’s amazing! Doing what? Babysitting?”
I remembered how Chase had joked earlier and couldn’t stop a smile from forming. “Sort of.” More like movie star–sitting.
There was an accident up ahead, and Lexi told me to take a side street to Sepulveda Boulevard and then hop on the 405.
“It was so amazing going into the production offices,” she said, starting a play-by-play of what had occurred while we were apart.
That nagging, guilty feeling returned. I should tell her about Chase. And the job. It seemed too incredible to be real. I was going to be hanging out with and working for Chase Covington. Who would believe that? I hardly did myself.
“You know who I saw in there? That skank Amelia Swan.” Amelia Swan, Hollywood’s newest ingenue, did interview after interview about her crush on Chase. She was willowy tall with perfect, shiny red hair and full lips. Lexi hated Amelia Swan. Not for any rational reason, of course, but because she was pursuing Chase and had an actual shot at him. “Who does she think she’s fooling with that plastic surgery? She looks like a broom with boobs.”
An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Lexi’s hatred was based solely on Amelia’s quest to land Chase. What would Lexi think if I told her he had flirted with me? Because I was pretty sure he had.
Which really didn’t matter, because obviously this wouldn’t go anywhere. How could it? He was Chase Covington, and I was just me.
And how do you say to your best friend, “Hey, know that famous star you’ve been in love with and dreaming about since you were nine? Yeah, he likes me and not you.” I didn’t want to hurt her. And I didn’t want her to feel like I had somehow betrayed her or the Girl Code.
It was nothing. Chase was just a relentless flirt. Nothing would come of it. There was no reason to get Lexi all upset over nothing.
Part of me wanted to keep my interactions with him private. They had been just for me, and I didn’t want to share them with anyone else. Not even her.
Which made me think back to the conversations I’d had with Chase that day. I realized I had felt like myself the whole time. But in a good way. I didn’t feel like I had to compensate or behave differently. I could just be me, dumb comments and all, and I never felt “less than” or like he was judging me or I’d put him off. He reminded me a little of Gavin. There was this underlying current of comfort between Chase and me. One that was instant and didn’t have to be cultivated.
Of course, it had been way buried under all the physical tension I’d felt. Like he was some live wire and I didn’t know where the next surge of power was going to come from. Or whether I’d get electrocuted by him. He seemed exciting. Maybe even a bit dangerous. It was certainly something I’d never experienced with a guy before. Just thinking about being close to him on his couch gave me goose bumps.
People always said, “Don’t meet your idols.” But they were wrong. Because real-life Chase was a million times better than on-screen Chase.
I sent Chase my information after I set up a new e-mail account. There was no way I was going to tell him my e-mail was [email protected] About five seconds later, I got a message from One-F. He sent me some documents he wanted me to sign, including one called a nondisclosure agreement. Which basically meant that I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone about anything related to Chase. I was happy to sign that one. It gave me a legal reason not to tell Lexi everything.
Then One-F asked me to pick up Chase’s dry cleaning and sent me a picture of the receipt. He also wanted me to stop by Chase’s agent’s office to get his fan mail. Apparently the agency was overwhelmed by it and wanted it gone. He said I could drop everything off at Chase’s house, and he gave me the codes to the gate and the front door. He promised to forward the production e-mails with Chase’s daily call sheets. Which were basically the schedules for each day of shooting, listing what days Chase was to be there and his call time—when he was supposed to show up.
There were a lot of clothes to pick up at the dry cleaner’s, but the tsunami of fan mail I had to retrieve was ridiculous. It literally filled up my entire trunk. Just boxes and boxes of it. I decided to drop everything by his house on Wednesday morning, as my mom needed my help that night.
I drove out to Marabella, making sure to cruise down the main strip. I loved this quiet little town. The main street was comprised of Wild West–type storefronts in fanciful colors like pink, turquoise, and purple. It was the kind of place where the locals tore down freeway signs so tourists couldn’t find it. Marabella had the most beautiful, pristine beaches, and the natives didn’t want to share them.
Nobody had been happy when Google Maps became a thing.
As I pulled into the driveway, I got a text from Chase. He had stopped direct-messaging me on Twitter and now just texted me instead.
It was kind of hot that he owned a tux.
My mother had enough time to say hi and bye before she was gone, leaving me with my four half siblings: Zander (ten), Zane (eight), Zelda (four), and Zia (almost two). I asked them what they wanted for dinner, and Zia clapped her hands together and screamed, “’Acaroni and cheese, Zo-Zo! ’Acaroni and cheese!” I knew it wasn’t exactly healthy, but it was her favorite food in the whole world, and she was so adorable I couldn’t say no. I put my hair up into a messy bun and got started.
I somehow managed to get all their hands washed and everyone sitting at the table and eating in a reasonable amount of time. Zane was obsessed with superheroes and had on his Spider-Man costume. I convinced him it was okay to take off his gloves and remove his mask in order to eat. Zia happily got more of the mac and cheese on her face than in her mouth, Zander was more interested in his iPad than eating, and Zelda kept trying to give noodles to Mr. Wriggles, her purple panda.
“Spider-Man doesn’t eat,” Zane grumbled.
“He does eat. All the time. His aunt May makes sure of it,” I said, catching Zia’s sippy cup before it ended up on the floor. “All the superheroes eat. Even Captain Sparta.”
This was indicative of how much real estate Chase Covington currently occupied in my brain.
“Which one is he?” Zander asked.
“The awesome one!” Zane shouted, giving Zander a dirty look.
Time to intervene. “He’s the former tomb raider who found a gem that had all the spirits of ‘The 300.’ They were Spartan soldiers who single-handedly held off a Persian invasion. Some of the greatest warriors the world has ever known. And the gem gives him all the strength and abilities of ‘The 300’ combined. He goes off to New York to fight with all the other superheroes.”
Which made me think of Chase in his Captain Sparta costume.
And when he was partially out of his costume.
As if sensing my distraction, Zia announced, “I pooped.”
Sighing, I got her out of her booster seat and took her to the bedroom she shared with Zelda. Too late, I realized she had managed not only to fill her diaper but also somehow to shoot it all the way up her back to her neck. I gagged a little. “Gross, Zia.”
“Luboo, Zo-Zo.”
“I love you, too.” I sighed, carrying her at arm’s length into the bathroom. I got her cleaned and rinsed and in her pajamas fairly quickly, but it wasn’t quickly enough.
Zander and Zane were in the living room. Zane was trying to see if he could stick to walls, and Zander was ignoring him. “Don’t you have that science thing you’re supposed to be working on?” I asked. Zander rolled his eyes as he put down his tablet and got his backpack.
I couldn’t find Zelda, and it was never a good thing when she was this quiet. Not to mention I still smelled poop, which meant it was probably on me somewhere. I needed to change out of my yoga pants and old T-shirt and take a shower.
I found my sister on the floor of the pantry, her mouth stuffed with chocolate chips. “No!” I exclaimed, grabbing the bag from her. “Hurry, we have to get you to a toilet.”
She stood up when I pulled on her arm and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “I feel sick.”
Then she proceeded to projectile-vomit chocolate all over me. Although she wasn’t allergic to chocolate, Zelda had an intolerance to one of the ingredients. Our mom had been working with an allergist to figure out which one, and despite the fact that it made her throw up every time she ate it, the girl just could not stay away from it. Which I understood, because it was chocolate, after all.
Somehow she managed to get none of it on her and all of it on me. With a smile she announced, “I feel better!”
“You need to go brush your teeth,” I said, slowly backing away toward the kitchen sink, trying not to drip all over the floor. “Zane! Come help Zelda brush her teeth.”
“Why do I have to?” he whined.
“Because superheroes help their sisters!” I yelled back. He stomped into the room, clearly unhappy with me, and pulled Zelda away.
Then the doorbell rang. I went over to the kitchen sink and used a paper towel to scrape off as much vomit as I could. “Zo! Door!” Zander called. I was tempted to tell him to get it, but Mom had a rule. He was too young to open the door at night.
The bell rang again. It was probably Mrs. Wittemore. She had been a very good friend to my mom over the last two years, and she did not like to be kept waiting when she stopped by. “Hold on, hold on,” I muttered.
I opened the door, and there, on my front porch, stood Chase Covington. “Hey. I was nowhere near your neighborhood—”
I did the only thing I could do. I slammed the door shut on him.