Page 3 of Falling Like Stars

There’s a squealing of tires and then Josh is no longer in the middle of the street. He’s vanished into thin air. There’s only the car with a smashed-in windshield and one of Josh’s shoes lying in the glare of its headlights.

He’s been knocked out of his shoes.

Shock descends over me like a clear glass dome. There’s no air and I can’t hear anything, not even Carol Bennet who comes racing out of her house, mouth open because she’s screaming. We both run to Josh, nearly half a block away.

I get to him first.

I nearly slip in the blood streaking the pavement.

I hold his broken head in my lap and put my mouth to his ear.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” I whisper again and again. I whisper it until the sirens come and they try to pull him away from me. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

I’ve never said it before and now it’s too late, and I know—even now—that I’ll never say it again.

Part One

PRESENT DAY, 10 YEARS LATER

Hollywood is a place where they’ll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul. —Marilyn Monroe

February 12th Edition

Breaking: ZACHARY BUTLER & EVA DEAN! It’s Officially Over…Again!!!

Look sharp, ladies! America’s favorite actor and the internet’s boyfriend is back on the market. Sources close to the star have confirmed that Zachary Butler has once again parted ways with his on-again, off-again fiancée and Godsent costar, Eva Dean. For those living under a rock, “Godsent” was the ludicrously popular TV series about a demon (her) and angel (him, of course) come to earth to battle for the souls of humans, while falling in love with each other at the same time. Art imitates life (or vice versa?) because that’s how our lovebirds met. But it’s been trouble in paradise, as the couple has had numerous breakups and makeups over the years, and this split may be for good. (Where have we heard that before???)

But these same sources say Zachary’s been focusing on his career—the notoriously intense actor is already diving deep into his next role—and in December, he appeared solo at the Crazy 8 premiere, where his wildly acclaimed performance as the loveable, wisecracking gangster, Felix Fleming, is already garnering award-season buzz. He stole our hearts and now he’s going to steal himself an Oscar—you read it here first!

Meanwhile, Ms. Eva Dean has been posting cryptic messages on her social media and was spotted last week stepping out with fashion mogul, Laurent Moreau, leading some to speculate that she may have already moved on.

As of this writing, Ms. Dean has no current film or TV projects in the works.

It remains to be seen whether our favorite Hollywood power couple will reconcile—again—but for now, it seems they’ve gone their separate ways. Is it over or is this just another bump on their rocky road to Happily Ever After? Stay tuned!

Chapter One

SEDONA, TAOS, YOSEMITE.

I flip through the photos of us on my phone. Smiling, laughing. Eva always with her arm around me or vice versa. Like we couldn’t stop touching each other if we tried. We visited those places for their natural beauty. Eva was a natural beauty, I think, flipping through pics of her with her ashy blonde hair spilling messily out from under a hat. A wide smile. She was happy. We were happy.

Tahiti, Mallorca, Ibiza.

Now the Godsent money is gushing like a geyser and Eva only wants to visit the trendy places. Her hair is platinum now and immaculate. She wants to show off her body in tinier and tinier bikinis, and her smiles are now mostly for the paparazzi. They follow us like a flock of pigeons I have to constantly shoo away—they scatter but always settle right back down.

My thumb keeps scrolling. My phone no longer has photos of Eva and me that aren’t public outings: movie premieres, parties, red carpets—where we stand beside each other, not touching. When we have to hold hands or put an arm around the other, it’s stiff and mechanical. Posed. By the time our six-year run of Godsent ended, no one was smiling.

I rub my eyes and quickly flip back to the beginning. She and I in our tiny Canoga Park apartment, poor as hell and laughing. Through the phone’s screen, I touch her cheek with my fingertip.

I was going to marry you.

The Hollywood dream is to make it big, and I suppose I did that. My management team walks around with stars and dollar signs in their eyes at my upward trajectory.

“The stratosphere, Zach,” my agent, Chase, says often. “That’s where you are.”

My gaze strays back to Eva and me laughing in bed with the morning light pouring in through the cheap slat blinds. My Hollywood dream: She and I, doing what we love while loving each other. One half is coming true, while the other half is fading out, like an actual dream that gets harder to remember as you wake up.

I chuck my phone beside me on the couch in my trailer and scrub my hand through my dark hair. Eva and I are not possible. Not anymore. Something in her changed. Hollywood fame altered her molecules so where we were once a perfect fusion, now we’re incompatible. Combustible.

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