Page 73 of How to Kiss a Movie Star
I grab the last of the suitcases and follow Flint. “Tell Lucy I said goodbye?” I say over my shoulder, ignoring her last comment. “I’ll text you both and let you know I’ve arrived safely.”
Summer shrugs. “Sure. But don’t worry. If we don’t get a text, we’ll just turn on TMZ and wait for you to show up.”
“TM-what?”
“It’s a gossip—you know what? Never mind. Just text us,” Summer says.
I’m buckled into the passenger seat, my bag at my feet, before Flint and I speak again. He looks over at me, and I reach over and press a hand to his cheek. “It’s really growing in.”
His facial hair has been a hot topic lately. He hasn’t shaved all week, his attempt to disguise his face for our trek through the airport. At first, I didn’t understand. The whole point of our trip is for us to beseen.But Flint assured me we’ll be seen regardless of facial hair. “Lots of people will recognize me no matter what,” he told me. “But we still have to make it through security and walk through the airport without getting mobbed. It’s all about balance.”
“It’s itchy,” Flint says. “I’m shaving the second we get to LA.”
“I really like it,” I say. “I think it makes you look mysterious.”
His lips lift into an easy grin. “My brothers say it makes me look like I’m trying too hard.”
“They do not.”
He shrugs as he backs out of my driveway. “They like to keep me humble.”
“They’re crazy. It looks really good on you,” I say, because it really does. He’s got a good jawline, so he’s ridiculously handsome either way, but as a woman who loves the outdoors, this slightly more rugged look on Flint is really doing it for me.
“Yeah?” He looks genuinely pleased by this, which surprises me but still makes me smile.
Before this summer, I’d never given a thought to what it might be like to be a celebrity, but after meeting Flint, finding out about his fame, his money, the never-ending attention that’s thrown his way, I somehow assumed he must never feel insecure or lack confidence. With so much evidence of his success constantly surrounding him, how could he? These tiny moments, when he seems less superstar and more human, are nice to see.
Which is funny, really. When we first met, and my sisters completely freaked out, I was the one who insisted that he’s just a man. I don’t love how little it took to make me forget. One private plane ride to New York City, and I started seeing amovie startoo.
An uncomfortable feeling niggles at the back of my mind.
Is that what I did when I pulled away from him last weekend? When I stopped him from kissing me? I saw him as a celebrity instead of a man?
“Flint, is it hard?” I blurt out, and he tosses me a quick glance before turning his eyes back to the road.
“Is what hard?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Living like this. Growing a beard to make it through the airport without getting mobbed. Spending a small fortune to outfit a woman just so she can pretend to be your girlfriend?”
He smiles. “Geez, Audrey,” he says, his voice teasing. “Want to make me sound a little more desperate?”
I grin, glad that he’s at least willing to joke about it. “If it matters, Ireallylove my new wardrobe.”
“That does matter,” he says. “I’m glad you do.”
“I do feel obligated to tell you that we’ll have to stay in California for at least three weeks for me to wear every single thing Olivia bought. Or,youbought. As it were.”
“I figured. I knew what I was doing when I asked my sisters to go along.”
“That was really sweet of you. I think I would have been overwhelmed doing all of it by myself. But what I meant was, is it hard being famous?”
He shrugs. “Yes and no. I’m kind of built to like the attention—it’s just the way my personality is—but sometimes the lack of privacy is tough. It’s why I moved back home. Things are infinitely easier in North Carolina than they are in LA. But I try not to dwell on the negatives. I get to do what I love. Not a lot of people can say that, so it doesn’t feel right to complain.”
“I feel that way about my job sometimes,” I say. “Once, I was out early in the morning collecting water samples from the creek that cuts across the bottom of your property—this was before you bought it—and I saw a doe and two fawns cross the path in front of me. The sun was filtering down through the trees, and the air was still and quiet and peaceful, and I just thought,this is my job.I actually get paid to be out here, to experience this magic. I felt pretty lucky.”
He’s quiet for a beat before he says, “I really am sorry I bought your research forest out from under you.”
I shrug. “The university would have sold it anyway. Better it went to you instead of someone building mountain condominiums or something else ridiculous. I know I was mad at first, but I definitely prefer what you’ve done.”
