Page 72 of How to Kiss a Movie Star
My sisters swooned over my new wardrobe for hours, begging and bartering for the chance to borrow the things they love the most. I’m taller than my sisters. I have broader shoulders and bigger boobs, but there are a few things, the dresses and a couple of the jackets, that will work for them.
They didn’t even really need to beg. It’s not like I’ll spend a lot of time wearing these things anyway. At least not after this weekend. Last time I checked, my grad assistants, and the state forest rangers who share my lab space don’t care what I wear to work.
The squirrels definitely don’t.
I just have to get through the next few days. Attend the events. Fake it with Flint. Then come back to Silver Creek. To my normal life in my normal town.
Let’s not talk about the fact that I’ll probably stillseeFlint after this week. He lives here, after all, and if I’m ever in the forest, there’s a good chance I’ll run into him.
But he can’t stay in Silver Creek forever. Eventually, he’ll have another movie to film. He’ll jet off to some faraway location where he’ll fall in love with a Brazilian bombshell who loves the limelight and would like nothing more than to bask in his celebrity for the rest of her days.
A pulse of irritating jealousy rushes through me. Which is juststupid.I’m not even supposed to like the man, and I’m jealous of a woman my brain just created all by itself?
Maybe I’m worse off than I thought.
“Hey, you ready to go?” Summer says from the doorway of my bedroom. “Flint just pulled up outside.”
“He’s driving?” I ask.
“Yep. His very pretty truck. Looks like he’s alone.”
“Well, we aren’t traveling alone, so that’s weird.”
Summer shrugs. “Maybe you’re meeting the rest of his team at the airport?”
Summer seems so calm about this. Talking about Flint’steamlike it’s perfectly normal for someone to travel with an entourage. In the week since I had dinner with Flint, or as my rebellious body likes to remind me, the night when wealmostkissed, my sisters have grown more comfortable with the idea of me spending so much time with a movie star. Or maybe they just got tired of my shutting down their attempts to talk about himconstantly.
Either way, I’m glad today doesn’t feel like some ridiculous send-off. I’m just a girl going to the airport. That’s all.
“I’m ready,” I say, picking up my shoulder bag, some butter-soft extravagance that I picked up in New York.
The only reason I caved and let Olivia add it to the stack of clothes I was already embarrassed to be buying was because it’s vegan leather. I’m not anti-leather. But I maybeamanti-leather-that-costs-two-thousand dollars. This was a fraction of that amount, but it still feels soft and luxurious and, bonus, it’s pretty practical. Big enough to hold a book and my water bottle and my iPad, should I have any need to work or do research while I’m gone.
Summer grabs my suitcase, which is also new (don’t judge—I know it’s ridiculous), and I grab my carry-on, following her to the living room. By the time we open the front door, Flint is already on the porch.
Summer lets out a little gasp when he smiles at her. “Summer?” he clearly guesses—there’s no way he can tell my sisters apart—and Summer grins.
“Excellent guess,” she says.
“I figured I had a fifty/fifty chance,” he says easily. He turns to look at me. “Hey,” he says easily. “You look good.”
“Thanks. Are Nate and Joni not coming?”
“They’re already at the airport. There was some sort of trouble with our connecting flight, and Joni thought she’d have an easier time working out the details in person.”
“Oh. We’re flying commercial?” The question sounds so completely pretentious, it almost makes me wince, but we definitely didn’t fly commercial on our way to New York, so I’d expected it would be the same this time, too. “Not that I mind,” I quickly say. “Of course I don’t mind. Seeing as how I’ve flown on a private jet exactly one time, I don’t exactly have grounds to simplyexpectit. Who even does that? Just assumes they get to travel on a private jet—annndI’m rambling,” I say. “I’ll shut up now.”
Flint reaches for the biggest suitcase.
“Be careful, that one’s heav…” Summer’s words trail off as Flint lifts the suitcase like I packed it with feathers and slides it into the back of his truck. “Or not so heavy,” she says under her breath.
“I almost always fly commercial.” He comes back for my carry-on bag. “All those CO2 emissions for one guy feels a little excessive.”
Summer grabs my arm and gasps. “Audrey! He speaks your language.”
I shrug out of her grip and shoot her a look that saysshut up right now or I’m evicting you out of my basement,but only because that’s an easy distraction from the fact that Flint Hawthorne actually cares about CO2 emissions, and that’s doing crazy things to my heart.
“The private jet was a luxury just for you,” he says, and Summer sighs. “Now he’s speakingmylanguage.”
