Page 112 of The Sun and Her Star

Then, I walk out and pray like fuck she’ll call after me. But when I step onto the elevator, I know she’s not coming. And when the doors close, I feel less hope than I have in a long time.

And in my head, questions swirl like dead leaves in a strong gust of wind—useless, messy questions that I can’t hold of long enough to answer. Did I overestimate her feelings? Am I an idiot to think I’ll ever be able to move on with her without telling her? What will I do if she doesn’t come tomorrow night? What the hell is Nanette doing here? At that, my thoughts come to a screeching halt.

Fuck. I should have seen this coming.

She called almost every day for a week a couple of months ago. I was busy planning my move. Not that I would have ever answered them, but it made ignoring them completely easier. After a week, she stopped calling.

I feel a knot of worry build. If she’s here, it can’t be a good thing. I pull out my phone and dial her number.

Yes

Apollo

“He’s like his own solar system,” Josie, Reena’s friend, shouts into my ear. The awe in her voice is viscous. It sticks to the skin of my cheek and shoulder as she stands behind me. I swallow down the ball of irritation that I feel every time anyone talks about Graham like they know him.

I glance at her—my forced reply on the tip of my tongue. And there it is destined to remain.

Her eyes are fixed on something on the other side of the club, the light in them positively feral.

I don’t bother to stifle my groan.

Even if the room had been quiet, she couldn’t have heard me anyway. Graham has this effect on people. He’s beauty, brilliance, and a whole lot of stardust—all held together by a gravitational force that makes people forget everything but him.

Josie clasps her hands together and bounces on the toes of her bright red, patent leather stilettos and squeals.

“Oh my God, thank you so much for letting Reena invite me to this party, Apollo. I mean, I can’t believe I’m in the same room as Graham Davis.” Her voice thins to a strangled scream. “Oh my God, oh my God. Oh. My. Freakin’ God. I think he’s looking at me.” She draws out the final vowel on the wordme,and it sounds more like strangled meow.

“I’m sure he is,” I say disinterestedly and take a sip of my drink. I take a few seconds to savor the tingling effervescence of the ice cold tonic water infused withjustthe right amount of top shelf vodka dancing over my tongue. Why couldn’t life be like this drink? Simple, easy, uncomplicated but yummy?

“I’m gonna go talk to him. He and what’s her name just called it quits, right? I mean, he’s single again. This has to mean something, don’t you think?” she says, her eyes still fixed on him, but her hand clamps my shoulder. She squeezes it and squeals again.

“Sure, go ahead,” I mumble around the straw I’ve obliterated with agitation, envy, and more than a little despair. I toss down the useless, shredded piece of plastic and for a minute succumb to all my feelings.

The hand on my shoulder tightness its grip, and suddenly I’m spinning on the swiveling seat of the barstool I’ve been perched on all evening.

“Whoa, what—” I squawk in surprise when my drink splatters all over my bare arms.

“Come with me, please. I don’t know him. He’s your best friend.” I glance around to look for Reena who disappeared as soon as we walked in. She’s the worst wingman in the world. “Youhaveto introduce me,” she pleads, her cornflower blue eyes as big as saucers and full of pleading.

I’ve been sitting here all night trying to work up the nerve to approach Graham. After he left last night, I wanted to run after him. But I decided it wouldn’t be fair to keep pulling him and pushing him and that I should let him see that I’d slept on it and wasn’t making this decision because I was scared. But, I’d been skulking in the shadows all night, afraid to approach him. Afraid he’d decide I wasn’t worth the trouble.

“Pleeeease!” Josie screeches and just to shut her up, I stand up.

“Sure, let’s go,” I say, and she pulls me to my feet, and we start to cross the club. The strobe lights flash over the sea of dancing, sweating bodies of the who’s who of New York’s entertainment industry.

Graham is one of the only people who could gather a crowd like this. Everyone wants to stand in the light of a star. In this city, there are three things that people value above all else: money, power, and beauty. Graham is the living, perfected, embodiment of all three.

He’s laughing at something that one of the guys in his huddle is saying. His head is thrown back, and his bearded jaw is on glorious display. His long, dark blond hair falls to his shoulders. Even in the dark of the club, it shimmers under the touches of light

“Oh my God, Apollo, look at hisjacket. Onlyhecould wear pink velvet and make it look like the most masculine color ever.” Josie’s nails dig into the forearm she’s got wrapped in a death grip.

I don’t respond. What could I say that wasn’t obvious?

Graham could make a yellow polka dot bikini look masculine.

As if he can sense our approach, his sugar gray eyes swing in our direction.

When they land on me, they widen, the way they always do when he sees me.

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