She Dims the Stars (4 page)

The taste of grape lingers in my mouth for the entire ride back to college.

“So, you’re good?”

My weekly call with Cara usually includes this phrase, and it’s been a while since I’ve answered it honestly. She knows when I’m lying anyway, but when I tell her that I actually am fine today, I can hear the hint of surprise in her otherwise flat tone. I’m itching to get off the phone by the time she asks the next question. There’s music pouring from an open door as I pass by, and I know she can tell I’m not at home.

“Where are you going?”

“Crazy. Wanna come?”

She doesn’t laugh at the joke. I don’t expect her to. She just continues with her rundown.

“How are your impulses?”

I cringe and rest the phone between my cheek and shoulder so I can wipe my palms on my back pockets. “Great. Everything is great. Actually, I have to go, so … talk next Tuesday?” She agrees and hangs up, but I’m left feeling anxious as I stare at the brick building in front of me and try to get the nerve to dial another number. It only rings once before he answers.

“Audrey?”

“Hey. Yeah. I mean, yeah, it’s Audrey. Hey. What are you doing?”

There’s some movement behind the curtain as I’m looking up at it, and I can see his shadow rise from what I assume is a chair by the window.

“Getting some stuff together for a project. What are you doing?”

I take a deep breath and expel it with a laugh. “I think I’m standing outside your place. Wave at the window.” The shadow moves closer to the curtain, and I can see five fingers spread as he waves. “Yup. That’s definitely you. Unless this call is being tapped, then that’s not cool at all, and this is how a horror movie would start.”

Elliot moves the material aside and opens the window, peering out at me from above. “Do you always communicate through windows?”

The smile on my face could shatter my lips. “Not always. Just on special occasions. Let’s run away. Come on.”

He leans on his elbows and cradles his face in his hands, his adorable brown eyes looking me over. “I have a project.”

“You’re no fun, Elliot Clark.”

Lips pursed and eyes narrowed, he nods. “Where were you thinking?”

I shrug and hold my arms out like we have the entire world at our fingertips. “Honestly, I just want some pancakes. And that’s maybe a five-minute walk. I’d settle for that.”

Not once has he asked how I knew where he lived. Or how I found out what his last name is. I don’t know if that should put me at ease or make me more nervous, so I try to shut the thoughts down altogether. Which is hard, because sometimes I think all I’m made up of is a constant train of thoughts.

We don’t talk much on the way, and that suits me just fine. He’s a watcher, and I stare at his profile as he takes in the other students walking by us or hanging around in groups. They’re drinking or smoking or talking too loudly. His face is an open book, and it’s like I can see inside his head exactly what he’s thinking about all of them as we pass by. His eyes roam some of them from top to bottom, and I wonder if he’s putting their physical attributes somewhere in a file in his brain for later use.

When we reach the diner, he seems to snap out of his little people watching trance and finally acknowledges that I’m by his side. Elliot’s smile is endearing and a little shy as he holds the door open for me, his height so much greater than mine that I don’t even have to duck beneath his arm to enter. Not that this is much of a feat. At five foot three, I can walk under most guys’ arms. I’d bet Elliot stands just under six foot, though. Still much shorter than his roommate.

His fingers fidget as he scans the crowd before resting his hand gently on my lower back and leading us to a booth in the middle of the restaurant. The table is sticky with syrup and the air is thick with the smell of bacon and eggs. His lips press into a thin line while he pretends to read the menu, but his eyes are wandering elsewhere, and I sit back to watch him some more. He’s wearing contacts again, his dark brown eyes peering across the top of the menu and looking beyond my shoulder.

“Do you have a huge bacon boner right now, or is there someone behind me that you’re freaked out about? I can’t tell if you’re scared or horny.”

His eyes flick to mine and a look of terror crosses his face. “I assure you, the two are not mutually exclusive. Sometimes they go hand in hand, but right now, my ex is sitting two tables to the left, facing me.” He raises the menu a little higher and tries to shift down in his seat.

“Huh.” I try to play it cool, but I fail at that kind of stuff, so I just end up turning around and looking for whoever this girl must be. There are three of them, and two are exceptionally pretty. One is average. I assume with the way he’s about to lose his shit, he dated one of the hot ones. I turn back around, and his face is completely obscured by the menu now. “Blonde or super blonde?”

“What?” His eyes reappear and he blinks a bunch of times.

“Is it the hot blonde one or the hot super blonde one? Because I’m assuming that the third wheel is only there to make the other two feel secure about themselves, right? And that can’t possibly be your Kelsey-Chelsea.”

His entire face is visible now, and his mouth is hanging halfway open. “Are you a witch?”

I laugh and shake my head before leaning back against the seat. “So which one?”

“Super blonde,” he says quietly and averts his eyes like he’s suddenly really intent on figuring out what kind of topping he wants on his pancakes.

It makes sense, though. Elliot would be totally pressed about being dumped by a girl of that caliber. It has to be a blow to the ego. And he’s such a nice guy. I don’t even know the girl and I already hate her.

Truth be told, I don’t really know Elliot all that well, either.

I scoot out of my seat and into his, pressing myself against him, hip to hip. He’s stone still, staring straight ahead like he’s afraid if he moves I’ll attack him. His eyes slide in my direction, his long eyelashes raising higher as they widen, and I hear him faintly whisper, “What are you doing?”

I clear my throat and turn a little before resting my hand on his. “Let me just say one thing before we do this, okay?” He nods just the slightest bit before I continue. “I am in no way attracted to you. And this doesn’t mean anything. Now say something funny.”

He turns to face me so fast that our noses almost brush. “Funny.”

“Good enough.” I squeeze his hand and let out the loudest laugh I can possibly muster. I flip my hair and laugh harder, gripping his arm even tighter and angling against him until I’m almost in his lap.
Good lord, his biceps are much larger than I remembered from the lake house. Or maybe I just wasn’t paying attention. I need to focus
. “Oh my God, Elliot. You have got to be the funniest guy I have ever met.” I drop my voice and stare at his lips which have gone dry. They’re not bad lips. Fuller on the bottom but wide …
Focus, Audrey.
“Funny guys are so hot,” I say as loud as I can. And then I’m on him. Straddling him in that nasty diner seat, my ass squeezed against the table as I press my entire body against his and hover my lips over his.

He’s freaking out, and I can tell his fight or flight reflexes are starting to kick in, so I press down on his lap even harder to ground him there. And then I kiss him. My heart is racing, fluttering upward and getting lodged somewhere in my throat. I know I’ve kissed him before, but there were drinks involved. And money. This is just kindness, or something, on my part, but he’s not giving me anything to work with, and it’s making it a thousand times harder to pull this off.

I pull away and lean into his ear, nip his lobe, and whisper, “Kiss me back, or she won’t buy it.”

“Ohhhh.” It’s an exhale and then his hands are on my back pressing me closer, his lips finding mine. I don’t think he means to, but his hips raise a bit and I have to push back against him because I can feel the table lift up a little. It settles down with an audible screech, but he’s not paying attention, because he’s figured out that I’ll let him put his tongue in my mouth and he’s really,
really
into it.

I bite the tip of his tongue gently and he pulls back a bit to make eye contact. He’s red-cheeked and breathing heavy, and my lips feel five times bigger than they did before. I stare at the beauty marks on the side of his face while I find my sense of gravity again. My hands are in his dark hair and I’m … yeah… I’m pretty sure his hands found their way up the back of my shirt. His hands are
big
. Shit.

“So … did you need more time to look over the menu? Or …”

I turn to look over my shoulder at the waitress who has her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. It’s not like she hasn’t seen worse. But I have a brief thought that maybe we put on a pretty damn good show. And that means we got the job done. My pelvis rubs against Elliot’s jeans, and I hear him make a strangled noise.

I pretend to be embarrassed “Sorry. I think maybe we’ll just get ours to go.” I climb off his lap and make eye contact with the super blonde who is definitely staring. Without a thought, I rattle off an order like I know what my man wants.

The waitress smiles and reaches for the menus, but Elliot hesitates. His menu is now in his lap, and he shakes his head quickly. “I’ll keep this for a minute, if you don’t mind. There’s a puzzle on the back I wanted to look at.”

We’ve been in his apartment for ten minutes, and he still hasn’t spoken. He’s eaten everything and refuses to look directly at me.

“I was trying to help you out, okay? I had no idea you’d get all weird about it.” I have to break the silence or else I’ll lose it. It should be noted that I also did not know he’d get a hard-on from the ordeal, either. I’d say that wasn’t my fault, but let’s be real.

“Are you really that upset that she broke up with you? Did you love her or something? Were you planning on popping the question?”

“No.” He finally manages to look at me, though his gaze only lingers briefly. He clears his throat, and I see him clench his jaw once before he drops his fork and shoves his plate away with a sigh. “It’s not like that. I’m mad that she broke up with me before we went to Ireland because it was supposed to be part of this project that I’m working on over the summer. It’s why Cline and I kept the apartment instead of going back home. So, yeah, I wanted to go away for vacation, and I wanted to get the stuff for my project. I’m not hung up on her.”

I point at the front of his pants and grin. “Well, that was obvious.”

“Shut up!” It’s the first bit of a smile I’ve seen from him since the diner. “You were, like,
on
it. You’d be offended if I didn’t have a reaction. Be honest.”

“I mean, I guess so?” This time we both laugh, and it feels like the tension is finally leaving the room. The weight on my chest is starting to dissolve a little. I always have such good intentions.

I take a moment to look around his place. The apartment is small. It’s a two bedroom, and the living space is maybe a total of seven hundred square feet. I counted twelve steps to cross his threshold into the kitchen and another three to get to the couch. I haven’t gotten a full view of his bedroom, but the door is cracked, and I can make out a couple of piles of clothes on the floor and a whole bunch of wires coming from everywhere.