Page 69 of How to Kiss a Movie Star
She nods, her expression serious. If she were any other woman, I might think she was trying to take advantage of the moment, but Audrey isn’t messing around. She really wants to know. More than that, I think sheneedsto know.
I reach over and slip her hands into mine, entwining our fingers. “So, we might hold hands like this,” I say, my voice low. “And whenever we’re together, we’ll stand close, like there’s some sort of magnetic pull constantly tugging us closer.”
That feeling isn’t hard to imagine at all because it’s what Iactuallyfeel every time Audrey is near. But I don’t say that out loud. Something tells me that particular truth would make her run out the door and never look back.
“Okay, what else?” she says.
I lift her hand and press it to my chest, flattening her palm just over my heart. “You might put your hand here, while we’re talking, or place it on my shoulder.”
She slides her hand up, but then she keeps going, moving it up and around to the top of my neck where her fingers tangle in my hair. “How’s this?” she asks on a whisper.
I swallow against the knot forming in my throat. “Yeah, that’s—that works.”
I lift my free hand to her waist and slip it around to the small of her back, tugging her against me. She drops my other hand and lifts hers to my shoulder, sliding it around until her fingers are clasped behind my neck.
We’re standingso close,our bodies practically flush, and I’m about to completely lose my mind. She’s all I can see, all I can smell, all I can feel.
I want her.
The feeling is sharp—a burning intensity that rushes through me like a roaring forest fire but then quickly settles into my heart with a frightening certainty.
I want her, but more than that, it feelsrightto want her. To hold her like this.
It feels like we belong together.
Audrey looks up and meets my eye. I don’t know a lot about makeup, but whatever she’s wearing, it makes her eyes look twice as big and twice as blue.
“Will I need to kiss you?” she asks. “Will that be part of what we do to convince everyone we’re together?”
If it’s even possible, my heart starts pounding even faster. “Would you be okay with that?”
She bites her lip, and her eyes drop, a light flush climbing up her cheeks. “I don’t know how to kiss a movie star, Flint.”
I tighten my hold on her, and she yields willingly, her body melting against mine. “Don’t think of me that way. Just think of me as a guy who likes to landscape his yard and work in his garden and hang out with his siblings. Think of me as an uncle who really loves his nieces and nephews and a son who still calls his mom once a week.”
Her gaze drops to my lips, but I don’t move. There’s still a question in her eyes—a question that I don’t have. I’m all in. Ready to kiss herfor real.But if this is going to happen, it will happen because she chooses it. Because she wants it.
She leans up, her head tilting just slightly, and I bend down to meet her. My nose brushes against hers, a whisper of a touch, but then she sucks in a deep breath and pulls away. Her hands fall from my body, and she backs up before turning and pacing across the living room, one hand pressed to her stomach.
She spins back around to face me, fire blazing in her eyes. “What are we doing, Flint? What was that?” She shakes her head, like she can’t make sense of the situation, but then words start to tumble out of her. “We werepracticing. You were showing me how things were going to be when we’refakinga relationship.” Her hands lift to her hips. “And then we almost…and we can’t. That’s not…” She props her hands on her hips, and I get the sense that wherever she’s going, I need to let her get there before I interrupt.
“You’re telling me to think of you as just a normal guy, but this isn’t a normal situation. We’re going toHollywoodso I can pose on the red carpet as yourfake girlfriend.There’s nothing normal about that.”
I brace my hands on the back of the couch. She’s right. But nothing about almost kissing her was fake. At least not for me.
“I know you aren’tjusta movie star. I do,” she says. “But I have to think of you that way. It’s the only way I can protect myself.” Her shoulders slump, and she wraps her arms around her middle, hugging herself. I barely resist the urge to go to her, to pull her into a real embrace. But her words stop me in my tracks.
She wants to protect herself? From me? From having feelings for me?
“You have fifty-six million Instagram followers, Flint,” she says. “Everywhere you go, people recognize you.”
“That’s true,” I say slowly. “But Audrey, it isn’t who I am.” I wince at the words because even as I say them, they don’t quite feel true. I hate it, but it’s the truth whether I like it or not. “It isn’tallI am,” I correct, but even this amendment doesn’t feel like enough.
“I get that,” she says softly. “And I believe you. But that doesn’t change your reality. The people, the paparazzi, the attention. I spent some time watching videos last night. Interviews you’ve done. And the crowds, the way everyone screams at you, clamors for your attention. I don’t know how you do it. I’ll get through the premiere, and I’ll be fine. Because I’ll know what to expect. I’ll know what’s at stake. But it will probably take me a week to recover. You’ll see what I mean. I’m not…equipped.”
I’ve made a career out of studying body language, paying attention to the tiny nuances, the almost imperceptible movements that tell a story ten times more powerful than the actual words we say. And what Audrey’s body language is telling me now is that she’s afraid.
But afraid of what? My fans? My feelings? Or is it herownfeelings?
