Page 41 of Star Crossed
Chapter Eight
Mid-January
“Tell Jules I said hi!”
Clay grunted and then repeated, “Mel says hi.”
“I heard.” Jules stretched out on Wyatt’s bed and put her hand behind her head. “So where are y’all tonight?”
“Minnesota,” Clay said, sounding unamused. “And it’s fucking cold as hell. I’m not even kidding, Jules; your spit freezes before it hits the damn ground.”
“Not having fun?”
“I hate this shit. I can’t wait for this fucking publicity tour to be over,” Clay grumbled. “But Romeo does most of the work. He runs his mouth and hams it up, and I don’t have to do more than sign autographs and look mean. Turns out he’s a handy friend to have.”
“Yeah, well, those are usually the kinda friends you attract. Big mouths and bigger personalities.”
“I heard that,” Wyatt said next to her. “And it sounded like you just compared me to Wellings.”
Wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, Wyatt was lying on the bed facing the television. His feet rested on the pillow next to Jules’s head, and a big bowl of popcorn was nestled in-between the fold of his arm.
“If the shoe fits.” Jules shoved at Wyatt’s feet in annoyance. “Speaking of shoes, get these size fourteen beasts out of my face.”
Wyatt pushed his bare foot against her chin in response, making her shudder. It didn’t matter that he’d just gotten out the shower; the idea of Wyatt’s bare feet touching her face was enough to make her reach out and punch the exposed curve at the back of his knee, forcing his leg to jerk forward.
“Thathurts, Jules!”
“Good!”
“Fine, we’ll see how you like it.” Wyatt wrapped a big, bare arm around her legs, digging his thumb into the sensitive spot in the curve of her knee.
Jules squealed into the phone and then lashed out before he could actually hurt her. She kicked at Wyatt’s head and laughed with sadistic glee when he hit his chin against the popcorn bowl.
“You’re a bully.” Wyatt tightened his arm around her legs, making it impossible for her to kick him again. Then he went back to eating his popcorn with his other hand as if holding her immobile was second nature. He mumbled with his mouth full, “No wonder you don’t have a man. A fella’d have to be certifiable to wanna date you.”
“Pig,” she whispered, frowning at the back of his head.
“What’re you two doing?” Clay asked, reminding her that he was still on the phone. “Besides the obvious.”
“He’s watchingThe Chinese Connection—again.”
Clay laughed. “When’s he gonna get sick of Bruce Lee?”
“Never.” Jules rolled her eyes as she looked at her brother, who’d gone back to giving the movie his full attention. “He saw it was coming on one of those stations that plays old movies and made popcorn and everything. So sad.”
“He owns the dang movie.”
“I know that. But he likes when it comes on actual television, like the stations are gonna know he’s supporting the cause of showing these old, crappy movies from the ’70s.”
“Blasphemy. They’re not crappy,” Wyatt said defensively and then pinched her leg for good measure. “And you know it.”
The truth was Jules liked Bruce Lee just as much as Wyatt. He was an artist and a huge influence on Mixed Martial Arts. She and Wyatt grew up watching his movies and idolizing the man, but she was still bitter and wasn’t inclined to admit the truth, even if Wyatt knew she was full of it. After all, she did bounce into bed right next to him to watch the movie.
“You love Bruce Lee,” Clay reminded her even if Wyatt didn’t. “And you can’t say you don’t. You got a big-ass poster of him over your bed.”
Jules decided to change the subject. “Is Melody having fun on the publicity tour?”
“Oh yeah, she’s having a good time even if I’m not,” Clay said conversationally, making Jules think he was staying on the phone just to keep Jules and Wyatt from fighting. “She likes seeing all the new towns and talking to people. She’s more friendly than I am.”
