Page 2 of We Are the Stars

Suddenly, he draws back, hauling me off the semi-comfortable lounge chair we’ve been occupying for way too long now and pulling me into the shadows of the rundown laundromat.

“What is your damage?” I yank my arm out of his strong grip.

“Do you have any idea who that is?”

“No? Should I?”

“Should you? SHOULD YOU?!” he shouts as he throws his hands to his hips and starts pacing in front me, tossing me disappointing head shakes here and there.

I shift impatiently from one foot to the other, my arms crossed over my chest, waiting for him to explain his insane outburst.

When several more moments pass and he doesn’t give any sort of explanation, I huff out, “What issobad about him?”

“I don’t understand how you don’t know.”

“Knowwhat?” I ask again, annoyed.

“He may as well be famous around here.”

I point a finger at him. “You know I don’t pay attention to small-town gossip. It’s rude and almost always not true. It’s like that game of telephone our teachers used to make us play in grade school. Everything gets so twisted by the end, no one knows what’s real and what isn’t.”

Jase shakes his head adamantly. “No, this is different. There’s evidence to back it up.”

“What evidence?”

“Plenty.”

I stomp my foot and shove past him on my way to my drying clothes. I yank open the door and reach inside, testing their dryness.Good enough for me.Grabbing the basket I brought, I fill it, tugging my clothes out into an unfolded pile. Curiosity is building inside me by the second. I have no idea what Jase is going on about, but I won’t sit around and contribute to gossip about a guy I don’t even know.

I’m going to go ask him myself.

“What are you doing?”

I glance up at Jase. “Uh, putting my clothes up?”

“They’re done?”

“Almost.”

He huffs. “Don’t you know it’s bad to wad up wet clothes and let them sit? They’ll mold.”

“That’s a myth.” It’s probably not. “Besides, I’m bored and starving.” I point across the laundromat, my finger aimed at the diner across the street. “I’m also dying to know what this jackass’s problem is, and since you won’t tell me, I’m going to go find out myself.”

“Like hell you are!”

“Watch me, Jase.”

He shuffles past me to the dryer right next to mine and hauls his clothes out. I don’t miss the way he grimaces at their slight dampness as he tosses them into his own basket. I know not folding them is killing him too, but he pretends it doesn’t bother him.

The differences between myself and my best friend have always astounded me. Where I’m messy, he’s clean. Where I’m a little wild, he’s cool and collected. My hair is pale blonde, his is raven black. My eyes are crystal blue, his are dark brown.

The biggest dissimilarity?

He’s a dude, and I’m most definitely a chick.

I know, I know. A guy and a girlcan’tbe just friends.

Lie.

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