Page 16 of Chasing Stars
I have the embarrassing sense that my palm is sweating on her bare knee, but I don’t pull away either. I am addicted to the tingling sensation her touch leaves on my skin. “You can stay with me,” I say, cautiously.
Jenna sits all the way up and squints at me, shaking her head. “No, no. I can’t do that.”
I pull my hand away and meet her eyes. “Why not? It’ll only be for forty-eight hours max, and I have an air mattress. You can take my bed. I’m sure you can stay here while Danny’s crew works. It’s just the fumigating that you need to leave for.”
Jenna hesitates, chewing on that plump bottom lip again.I swear to God, I am going to bite it so hard if I ever get the nerve to finally kiss her.
“Okay,” she says after a beat. “Yeah. Hotels are expensive, and I really don’t want to impose on Ellie again,” she admits. “We’re friends, right?”
I grin and pat her thigh as I stand. “Yeah. Friends. I have to make a call.”
I leave her there before she can say anything else, wondering how in the hell I’m ever going to stay just friends with this woman. I even like her when she cries.
7
JENNA
Inever wanted to be a damsel in distress, but I certainly plummeted right into that role this past week. First, my mom died. That part, sadly, I was prepared for—she was sick for a long time. But it still broke me. Then I lost the job I poured the past five years into. My boss didn’t even pretend to be sorry to let me go. Somewherein that spiral, I thought it might be a good idea to get bangs. I was wrong.
Finding out about this house felt like a lifeline—until I saw it. It is a damn money pit. I don’t even know how it’s still standing. I’m not sure howI’mstill standing. Maybe I am dissociating. Maybe none of this is real.
Except it is.
And so are the bangs.
But when the sunlight glows through the back bay window, I can picture what it could be—a home. If money were no object, I’d knock out the wall between the kitchen and the dining room and open up the whole downstairs. I’d love to vault the ceilings in the family room, add in some skylights. Open shelving with seashore-themed decor. I’d bring in soft coastal tones, white oak, and breezy linens. Warm and calm.
The kind of place I could callhome.
These are the sorts of designs I’d assist with at work. It’s crazy to imagine doing it for myself.
But when I look around at the old linoleum, peeling paint, and the mystery spots on the kitchen ceiling, the dream fades away.
I barely sleep after Miles leaves. I order Chinese food and eat it while scrolling TikTok on my phone, since it’s the only form of entertainment I have in this godforsaken house. I toss and turn all night before finally waking up with the sun.
I pack enough clothes for three days, go for a walk, and Google some DIY projects that are probably way harder than they look. When I’ve paced the house long enough, I sit on the front stoop and wait for Miles. He’s taking me to Frank’s Auto this afternoon to get my tire fixed, then showing me his humble abode.
I’m trying desperately not to read into his kindness, but it is difficult. It’s not every day an unfairly attractive, single guy does nice things for you without some kind of ulterior motive. The last thing I need is to get mixed up with a local, especially one that looks like him and treats me like I matter. But dare I say, I might be interested. In a fling, of course. It couldonlybe a fling. I am not staying here. I don’t have a plan yet, but I know it’sdefinitely notstaying here and falling for a surfer with kind eyes and a dimple that makes my knees weak.
Miles’s horn startles me from my thoughts, and I nearly jump out of my skin. He rolls down the passenger window and laughs at me. “You all right over there?” His hazel eyes sparkle with amusement.“You jumped two feet in the air.”
I hop off the stoop and grab my duffel bag. “I’m good,” I say, trying not to look directly at his handsome face—or that boyish dimple. “You scared me is all.”
“Sorry.” Miles grins, but he doesn’t look sorry at all.
I roll my eyes. “So, are you going to follow me over to Frank’s?”
“Somebody has to make sure you don’t blow that donut.” Miles winks, and my stomach flutters. I’m not sure if it’s Miles making me nervous or the thought of blowing out his spare tire on the way to the mechanic. I force myself to ignore the feeling and walk around to the car.
Miles cracks open his driver’s side door and leans out. “Why don’t you follow me? Since I know where it is.” It’s not really a question, and an embarrassingly large part of me likes his take-charge attitude way too much.
“Yes, sir,” I say, grinning as I get in the car.
Before I close my door, I hear him mutter only to himself, “Ooh, so the lady likes it when I tell her what to do. Noted.”
We dropoff the car with no trouble at all. I even meet Frank of Frank’s Auto himself. His eyes lock on Miles and he does a double take when he sees me standing beside him.
“I didn’t know you knew Miles when you called,” Frank says, eyeing me curiously. But whatever surprise he’s holding onto disappears and he cracks a joke, promising to have my tire replaced in no time.
