Page 28 of Falling Like Stars

“I thought you said it was ‘spur of the moment.’ Sounds pretty planned out to me.”

I shrug one shoulder. “He’s a huge star. There are logistics.”

J.J. purses her lips. “I’m kind of hurt, you know. I’m your best friend.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just…wasn’t thinking. I should have told you.”

“There are lots of things you should tell me but don’t,” she says, her tone softening.

“Like what?” I ask, turning away to set out napkins.

“Josh. Is his mom still texting you?”

It takes all I have not to flinch, and not for the first time, I wonder if my friend is psychic. “Why wouldn’t she? We were practically family.”

“But you aren’t family.” J.J. leans across the small kitchen island to face me. “Ro, I’m not trying to give you a hard time on your birthday, but…” She pushes up the sleeves of her white cashmere sweater. “But I worry about you. You and your hook ups. It’s like you’re punishing yourself. And his mom texting you all the time? I don’t think it’s healthy.”

“She lost her son, J.J.,” I say. “What am I supposed to do? Tell her to fuck off?”

“No, but—”

“Just forget it. I’m doing fine.” I try for a dry smile. “I have the world’s biggest movie star coming to my birthday party.”

“Because he’s a nice guy who likes you and you like him,” J.J. says. “And you didn’t tell me because that would make it real.”

“That is not what’s happening here,” I say. “He’s famous. I’m nobody. And he probably won’t even show up…”

My words trail as a black sedan’s tires crunch over the gravel of the tiny driveway. Through the kitchen window, I watch as a man in a black suit gets out and opens the rear door. J.J. follows my gaze and breathes a curse under her breath as Zach Butler steps out. My breath catches too, for different reasons.

Zach’s hair is no longer styled in the dorky Boyd Shelton ‘do, but a lock of dark hair falls over his forehead. He’s grown stubble that defines his angular cheek bones even more than usual. I’d bet money he’s growing it out for his Alaska role. His clothes are simple jeans, a black button down, and a light jacket, but the cut of them is casually elegant and refined. In his arms is a bouquet of flowers—a wild riot of colors—and a bottle of wine. Zach says a few words to his driver, who nods and turns to go. Then Zach is walking up the front walk. My front walk.

“He probably won’t even show up,” J.J. mimics, and a nervous laugh bursts out of her. She socks my shoulder. “Girl.”

I can’t help but laugh too, glad that Lecture Time is over. “He’s cool, you’ll see.”

“Uh huh,” J.J. says as I head to the door. “Those flowers are for you. From Zachary freaking Butler.”

I make a face at her to keep it down, then open the door to Zach. “You came.”

“I said I would,” Zach says with a smile made more charming by the fact it’s genuine and not some movie star mask. “Happy birthday.”

He offers the flowers and leans in to kiss my cheek. I’m suddenly awash in the scents of him—cologne, new clothes, his own warm skin…everything that the chlorine in the hot tub had concealed from me. His warm lips touch me briefly, but the sudden tingle that shoots down my cheek, across my chest, and down my back takes me off guard.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, taking the flowers, then nod at the wine which is distinctly not a recent purchase at a local convenience store. “Or that.”

“As if I’d show up empty handed.”

Zach glances around my place, and I see the appreciation in his hazel eyes as he takes in the simple but homey furniture—wood pieces decorated with colorful throws, pillows, and embroidered cushions. Heavy ceiling beams and the mantle over the fireplace add to the rustic look, while I’ve added more modern decorative touches to the lighting fixtures and artwork. The living room is attached to the kitchen and opens to a backyard with recreational furniture, a fire pit, and colored lights strung overhead. The rest is forest where night is falling, turning the sky purple behind the treetops.

I lead Zach to the kitchen and set down the wine. “Zach Butler, this is Jess Jordan, my best friend and party-thrower.”

Zach extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jess.”

“You can call me J.J.,” she says, shaking his hand and maintaining strong eye contact. If you didn’t know her, you’d almost believe she wasn’t starstruck. I bite back a smile.

“J.J. it is,” Zach says. “I know I’m early. There’s nothing worse, right? But I didn’t want to make an entrance. When the guests arrive, I’ll just be part of the scenery.”

“Right,” she says, deadpan. “You’ll fade into the background. No one will even notice.”

---