Page 36 of How to Kiss a Movie Star
A quick knock echoes through the house, and both my sisters gasp, then start to laugh. “We’re going to meet Flint Hawthorne,” one of them says.
I’m no longer paying attention because there is only one person in this house who Flint Hawthorne actually knows.
He has to be here to see me.
I scramble out of my bed and move toward the door, but Summer catches me by the arm, swinging me back into the room. “What are you doing?”
“I’m answering the door?”
“Wearing that?” Lucy says, her voice too high. “You’re braless, Audrey. It’s totally nipple city in here.”
I look down at my outfit—baggy sweatpants and a black tank top. “Oh, geez. You’re right.” I reach for a hoodie to pull over my tank top.
Summer grabs it out of my hands. “NO. That only makes it worse. At least in the tank top, you look like you have a shape. Just put on a bra.”
Lucy tugs open the top drawer of my dresser and starts riffling through it. “Seriously? Do you have anything that isn’t a sports bra?”
“They’re comfortable,” I say as I wrestle my sweatshirt away from Summer. “And it doesn’t matter anyway because Flint Hawthorne is not here to see my boobs.” I head down the hallway, and they scurry after me.
“But he might comebackto see them if you let him catch a glimpse,” Summer says, and I send a silencing glare over my shoulder.
“Stop it. Both of you. I don’t know what this is about, but you’re going to stay hidden until I find out.”
“Hidden?” Lucy squeals. “You aren’t going to introduce us?”
“Just go!” I whisper-yell and motion them back down the hallway. “Not a word.”
I tug my hoodie down and adjust the hood, then take a calming deep breath that does nothing but make me realize hownotcalm I am.
This is not a big deal. I’ve met Flint before. We’ve had a couple of actual for-real conversations. I even had dinner with his family. I can handle this.
I swing open the door.
Flint is halfway down the stairs, but he swings around as soon as I call his name. He’s wearing khaki shorts and an olive-green T-shirt, sunglasses, and a baseball hat pulled low on his head. The sun is setting behind him, casting an orange glow across his features. It’s perfect lighting. Movie star lighting. And I suddenly wonder if he timed his arrival on purpose.
Though honestly, he doesn’t need the lighting. I’m pretty sure he’d look good anywhere. Any light. Any situation. Any wardrobe. Put the man in a hotdog Halloween costume, and he’d still make it look sexy.
“Hey,” he says. “I thought you weren’t home.”
“I’m home,” I say. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
He looks me up and down, a smile playing at his lips. “You worried about a cold front coming through?”
I press my lips together, regretting the sweatshirt, but it’s better than nipples, so I force a smile anyway. “My sisters like to keep the house cold. Um, do you want to come in?”
He climbs back up the steps so he’s standing directly in front of me. I catch the scent of him—something clean and masculine that makes my toes curl into the wooden porch slats beneath my feet. “I’d love to come in if you don’t mind. I have something I want to ask you.”
“Okay. Sure.” I step back into the house and hold the door open for him.
He follows me into the living room, where we stand awkwardly for a long moment. “Do you want anything?” I finally ask. I’m terrible at this. At hosting. Atsocializing.“Water? That’s pretty much all I have.”
“We have Dr Pepper downstairs!” a voice whispers from the hallway.
Flint’s eyebrows go up, and I wince as I look toward the hallway where I know my sisters are hiding. I sigh. It’s probably better to get this over with now, then I’ll force them into the basement.
I look back at Flint. “My sisters,” I explain. “They’re nothing like me, so you might want to brace yourself.” I walk to the hallway and grab my sisters’ hands, pulling them into the living room. They stumble to a halt, and I step to the side, allowing them a full view of the movie star standing in my living room. “Flint, these are my sisters, Summer and Lucy.”
Something in Flint changes just slightly. He smiles as he steps toward my sisters and extends his hand, but it doesn’t seem fully genuine. But that’s not quite right, because he doesn’t seem fake either. He just seems like—the answer clicks into my brain with sudden clarity. He seems like he’s performing.Acting.
