Page 66 of Take It Till You Make It
His brow arches dramatically, and he shakes his head.
“You are so much more than me,” I say.
At first, he looks peeved, but then he chuckles.
“Oh, that’s funny?” I snatch my hand out of his. Playfully. Mostly. “You like to see the poor, simple girl marvel at your cosmopolitan life? All this stuff you do is generous, but it’s difficult not to feel inferior when there’s only so much I can do to keep up.”
“I don’t do it to show off. I really enjoy spoiling you.” His smile is more sad than entertained. “And I’m the one marveling here. You just don’t see yourself clearly. Like, not at all. It may sound like I live a big life, but in fact, I have been pretty sheltered from it because of my celebrity. Sure, I have a lot of money and travel a ton, but I don’t have any actual life experience. Nothing like what you’ve lived through. You are ten times the human being I am. Getting to know you makes me realize I’m just a shell acting the way I’ve been told and having experiences curated for me and never really experiencing anything because I’m either protected by a bodyguard or busy signing autographs instead of actually reading the plaque under the Mona Lisa.”
“Oh, my goodness, you’ve been to the Louvre Museum?” When he closes his eyes, I reach out and touch his arm. “I’m sorry. I do get your point.” And I do. He has been to the Louvre, but was busy making fans happy instead of enjoying the art. I think of the time Dad, Mom, and I went to Kings Island amusement park. We spent all day there and rode almost every ride in the park. He could never do that. He’d have to rent the park after hours or something if he wanted to be able to enjoy the place without being mobbed.
We look at one another, but the air is thick with tension.
I gnaw the inside of my cheek as I consider what he’s said and who I know he is, and something else makes more sense. “That’s why you get to know all the support people. That’s why you became friends with a restaurant owner when you were just a kid. You want that connection to real life.”
He nods. “It’s hard for me because of who I am and what being my friend can do for someone.”
“Oh,” my heart skips a beat. “You said you’ve been burned before.”
“I have. The bubble they created around me when I was a minor was for a good reason. But it sheltered me from what I wanted most.”
“Real life,” I whisper.
He nods in slow agreement. But suddenly, he straightens his back and gestures to me. “And then along comes Arabelle Quill. The girl I thought was an overzealous intern when I first met her. But who, in actuality, is someone who has navigated through far bigger storms than I’ve faced and yet can still make people laugh.”
I swallow the pride rising like a lump in my throat. “Well, when you put it that way.”
His smile falls away, and his gaze zeroes in on my arm. He leans forward to get a better look. “Those are goosebumps. Why didn’t you tell me you were cold? Let’s go back.”
He jumps to his feet and offers me a hand up. Looking up at him, I feel a little overwhelmed. First, he’s impossibly good-looking. Second, he wants to be here with me. But third, and most importantly, I think I’m starting to see what he sees in me. And for some reason, it scares me, but I smile and put my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet. He doesn’t let go of my hand as he bends to snatch up the towel. He shakes the sand out and then flips it over his shoulder.
All the way home, my heart and head pound with the realization that I just might be worthy of Crispin Moore.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Did he kiss you goodnight?”Glory asks. I think I hear her slurp up some saliva. The girl is rabid for Crispin.
“He did not.” I pull my covers up to my chin, feeling very insecure about admitting that Crispin didn’t give me a goodnight kiss.
“What?”
“He kissed the back of my hand as he thanked me for dinner. I swear, the way he said it made it sound like a seven-course meal. It was just tacos. Not even authentic. I nearly melted into a puddle.”
“Did he ask you to go out again? Or indicate he’d like to?”
I squeal. Because this is the scariest part. “He asked me to go to his family dinner with him tomorrow.”
“Whaaa…?” I hear a crash in the background. Glory shouts, “You little runt! If that broke, you’re so grounded.”
“You can’t ground me.” I hear her little brother yell back. “Only Mom and Dad can ground me.”
She growls her frustration, and I hear her wrestling with something.
“What did he knock over?”
“The coat tree. It fell onto the table in the entry hall. I worried he broke that eagle statue. It’s Dad’s pride and joy. But it’s fine. The lucky little cuss.”
I chuckle. Every time I think I wish I had siblings, Glory cures me of it.
