Page 30 of Falling Like Stars

“So…,” I say, heaving a breath. “People will be here any minute. Prepare to be ogled.”

“Prepare? It’s why I got into show biz.”

“Yeah, that’s you. All ego,” I say, and I can because it’s so blatantly untrue. I cross my arms and lean against the wall. “So, can I ask what is going to sound like a super rude question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why are you here?”

He smiles with furrowed brows. “You invited me?”

“Do you always attend parties thrown by nobodies?”

“There’s that word again. I told you, you’re not a nobody.” His voice lowers. “And no, I don’t.”

The look in his eyes sends a rush of blood to my cheeks and steals any words out of my mouth.

“I know, I know,” he says. “My personal life is the seventh ring of hell, and you’re seeing someone.”

For a second, I have no idea what he’s talking about until I remember I’d characterized my tawdry hookups with Clay as “seeing someone.”

“Yep,” I say. “Sounds about right.”

“But…” Zach runs a hand through his hair. “I like being around you, Rowan. Plain and simple.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. “Not sure what I should do with that.”

“Me neither. Felt like being honest.”

The moment grows thick, and I feel like the solid ground beneath my feet is giving way to something else. My life has been the same dull movie on repeat: work, not work, hook up with strangers. Suddenly, the script has been flipped and now Zachary Butler is in my hallway, and I have no earthly idea what is going to happen next.

The doorbell rings, and J.J. yells that she’ll get it. Zach smiles crookedly, not yet moving out of the hallway. Not yet giving me up to other people. He’s wearing the same expression he had the night in the hot tub when I got buzzed by a moth.

We had a moment, didn’t we?

I swallow hard and chuck him lightly on the shoulder. Just pals.

“Another Thai gimlet? Before a line forms?”

His smile slips a little. “Sure.”

“On it,” I say and then haul myself out of his atmosphere before I get trapped in his orbit.

Chapter Eight

J.J. WAS RIGHT: for most of the night, I’m stuck behind the kitchen counter, making cocktails, which is perfectly fine with me. I can watch Zach from a safe distance. He moves easily through the house, chatting amiably with my friends, most of whom handle the fact he’s here with surprising chill. I receive a lot of “we’re going to talk later” looks, but so far everyone’s been cool. With one exception.

“Zachary Butler at your party. Happy birthday to you,” Dana Hodges says loudly over the music from my little sound system, where Hozier is playing. She leans over the counter, a gimlet in one hand, a knowing smirk on her face.

“Can I help you, Dana?” I ask, glancing around to make sure Zach didn’t hear her, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“How in the world did you pull that off?” she asks.

“I asked. He came.”

“Uh huh,” she says with an annoyingly pointed look. “Hey, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great. It’s about time you started cashing in your job benefits.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, giving the cocktail shaker a shake.

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