Starkissed (9 page)

“Oh well, you’re too good for a guy like that anyways.”

“I am?” The words come out faint. I look up into Colin’s blue eyes. I want to reach out through the car window and hook my finger into one of those curls on his head.

Am I hallucinating or is he staring into my eyes too?

Out on the street a car’s horn blares. Colin blinks, startled, and steps back from me.

“Well yeah,” he says, his voice kind of rough. “If you ask me, the guy looks like a bit of a tool.” He looks away, stares at something near the hood of my car. “And isn’t he ah, older than you? You’re Dad’s strict about that stuff isn’t he?”

“Right.”

He looks down at his watch.

“Well, it’s getting late. I ought to close things up here and get home. Night Sydney.”

“Night Colin.”

Chapter Twelve

I spend the rest of the weekend hiding at Caroline’s house, morning till night. I lie to my parents and tell them she and I have a big Physics project due on Monday so they don’t make me come home. It’s not home specifically that I’m avoiding. It’s my dad. And not for the reasons you’d expect. Between my mom’s reasoning and the restaurant’s new popularity, he’s been kind of lulled into a gentle calm whenever the subject of Grant comes up. He’s really, actually been quite pleasant.

No, what I’m hiding from is that fact that his restaurant has become so busy over the past few days that he expects me, Ava, and Angelina to pitch in to help with the crowds. I’m not a good waitress, I hate the kitchen, and I drop things when I play busboy. The only role I’m fit to play at any restaurant is hostess, but that’s Tina Moriello’s job. She was hired last year. She’s one of Angelina’s friends and works most weekends. She hates doing anything other than hostessing and I know if Dad tried to put me there and make her serve instead, she’d want to kill me. So it’s safer really, to stay away.

On Monday things at school are finally starting to settle down. I’m pretty sure I have Angelina to thank for this, not that she’ll admit to it. But if I’m not mistaken, she spent all of her energy this weekend trying to convince Michelle and the rest of their squad that Grant West and I have nothing to do with each other.

At first, like everyone else, Angelina was skeptical. She thought I was lying about not dating Grant. But unlike everyone else, she has a better view of me during post school hours. Maybe under Michelle’s orders, or by her own volition, she started spying on me. I caught her on my computer Friday night, probably trying to scout out non-existent emails from Grant, and then on Sunday I found her fooling around with my cell phone. When I caught her, she dropped it and went into the other room, but she forgot to clear the screen she was looking at. So when I grabbed the phone off the couch, I saw that she’d been perusing my past call log.

It might not have been enough to cancel the dating rumors completely, but the fact that Grant hasn’t been calling me, texting me, or emailing me is suspicious enough that now it seems everyone is wondering if he and I are a couple after all. Thank God for small miracles and nosy sisters.

“Well look at that,” Tara pokes me in the side Monday during lunch. We’re walking to the cafeteria with Zane. She’s looking at our regular table, which is empty, and then over to the other side of the room where the popular crowd usually sits. Their table is already starting to fill up.

“Maybe they finally believe you about Grant,” she laughs.

“Looks like it,” I nod.

We both follow Zane to our spot and plunk down into our seats.

I look around the room happily. Besides a handful of freshmen, no one is looking at me, no one is staring. Nobody cares.

Caroline shows up at the table a few minutes later, looking decidedly less blissful than I feel. She pouts toward the spot where Liam is sitting across the room, nestled between two sophomore girls with glossy blonde hair.

“Maybe it’s just not meant to be,” I say the same thing she said to me Friday night after I told her about talking with Colin while he worked on my car. That he’d deemed Grant both a tool and too old for me.

“He and Grant are like the same age,” I groaned. “If he thinks Grant’s too old then he’ll never like me that way because he’ll think he’s too old.”

Thankfully Caroline procured a tube of cookie dough from the fridge downstairs and we massaged our broken hearts with sugar and
Sixteen Candles.

Caroline leans over and whispers in my ear. “Guess who’s going on Letterman Friday night?”

I blink at her.

“Grant.”

I narrow my eyes. “I thought we were done with him. You promised.”

“I know, I know. But aren’t you curious?”

“About what?”

“Oh come on, he hasn’t been seen anywhere since that night. It’s like he’s disappeared off the planet.”

“So what?”

“So this is like the first time he’s talking to anyone since you guys kissed. What if he talks about you? What if he finally tells the world you guys aren’t together? What if he apologizes?”

I think about it. In theory, it would be nice. But honestly I’d rather him just keep his mouth shut. People are starting to act normal again, to leave me alone. I’d really rather just stay off their radar. Which means I’d rather Grant never speak or think of me again. Especially not on live television.

“You have no flair for the dramatic.”

“No. I do not.”

***

Despite the fact that the paparazzi can’t seem to find Grant anywhere, over the next few days his face appears everywhere. While the trailers have been popping up randomly for months at movie theaters, it seems the movie studio is finally dolling out a full on promotional attack leading up to the release of
Deader than Night
in two weeks. You turn on the TV and there’s a trailer of Grant aka – Garth Jones, zombie hunter – slaughtering a horde of gaunt faced, blood smeared zombies on the attack. The girl who plays his love interest, Penelope Lopez or – Princess Serene Wintermore – is back, both her heaving breasts and complete inability to fight for herself intact.

Posters start appearing everywhere too. Bus stops, magazines, malls. He’s haunting me. The only solace I have is that while there’s a general consensus country wide that we’re an item, the fine students of West Plane High School don’t seem to care or believe it anymore. And whether posters of Grant are hanging three stories tall off the sides of buildings in Albuquerque or not, I’m finally starting to feel free of him. Obscurity has never felt so damn good.

***

On Thursday afternoon between fifth and sixth period, Caroline rushes up to me.

“So have you heard? It’s all over the news.”

My stomach automatically plummets. What now? Am I back on TV? Is my Dad giving an interview from the kitchen of the restaurant? Oh God, is my mom showing reporters around our house?

“Why do you look so freaked out?” Caroline stares at me.

“Well let’s just say you haven’t really been the bearer of great news lately,” I glare at her. “Every time you have something new to tell me, my life kind of falls apart a little bit more. So what is it? Just say it. Quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

“Calm down. It’s nothing about you. Summer Stone and that guy she’s dating are apparently engaged.”

“What?”

“I just saw it online.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re kind of like connected.”

“We’re nothing like connected. I kissed her ex boyfriend once, that doesn’t mean I care what she does with her life.”

“Fine, fine,” Caroline sighs. “I wonder what Grant thinks about this.”

“I really don’t care,” I shake my head, relief flooding through my body. Someone really needs to take Caroline’s phone away.

***

On Friday morning Caroline greets me at my locker with a Starbucks cup in one hand and a homemade Raspberry White Chocolate scone in the other. The coffee is normal, Starbucks is on her way to school from home – she usually gets me one if she gets herself one. But baked goods aren’t standard fare.

“What’s this for?” I take it from her hesitantly, searching for the strings that might be attached to it.

“Nothing,” she peers into her locker and goes about her usual business – sorting her books, applying lip-gloss, and checking her hair in her mirror. I take a bite of the scone, which is mildly warm, making the chocolate a tiny bit melted, and oh so perfect. It’s so delicious I nearly moan out loud.

Caroline glances over at me and then turns around, just barely hiding the triumphant smile plastered on her face. I finish eating just as the first bell rings. Caroline and I gather our gym strip and head for PE.

Her step is a little more jaunty than usual, probably because today is the start of our PE dancing unit. For her it’s a dream come true, the sheer chance of being paired with Liam for one or more dances thrills her. For me, on the other hand, it’s a guarantee to stumble, trip, fall, and likely injure several members of the class. Last year I stepped on Greg German’s foot so hard he limped for a day.

In the changing room Caroline and I slip off our jeans and shirts and pull on our gym strips.

“I don’t know why they don’t let us wear regular clothes for this,” I shove my stuff into my gym locker. “It’s not like we’re going to be running laps.”

Caroline ties the laces of her sneakers. “Come on, let’s get out there!”

As we walk across the gym, the glossy floorboards shining with so much glare from the overhead lights that I have to squint my eyes, Caroline starts chatting.

“Want to do something tonight?” she asks.

“Sure.”

“What do you think? We could go to a movie, or we could just chill at your place and play board games, eat ice cream, watch Letterman, and maybe paint our nails.”

I stop walking. “No.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to watch it.”

“Why not?”

“Because, I have no reason to.”

“Come on!”

“No. Everyone else is going bowling tonight. Let’s do that. Then at eleven you’ll go to your house and watch whatever you like, and I’ll go home and go to sleep. Good?”

“Fine.” She stomps off toward the bleachers.

Chapter Thirteen

Bowling ends up being a blast. Zane’s older brother, Gage, is home from college for the weekend so he tags along and we end up playing boys against girls. Despite my being a member of the team – and my highest score out of four games being a 61 – we still win three of the four matches.

After bowling we head over to Canyon Grill and Dad comps everyone’s meals, which isn’t like him. I can eat there for free whenever I want, but my friends usually only get a discount.

While nobody mentions it to me directly the entire night, I know everyone is just itching to talk about Grant and his appearance on Letterman later. Whenever I leave the table and then come back, everyone shuts up immediately, like they’ve all been talking about me.

By the time ten thirty rolls around we’ve all pretty much disassembled. Caroline drove me, so she drops me off, begging me to watch the show with her one last time, and then taking off when I say no.

I go up to my bedroom, snag a book off my shelf, and crawl into bed with it. After about an hour I start to get hungry, which is appalling seeing as I just ate dinner a couple hours ago, but my stomach nags and nags at me until I relent.

When I get downstairs, I pass by the living room, which is dark except for the pulsating blue glow emitting from the LCD on the wall. I pause and glance in. America is curled up in the easy chair and Angelina is sprawled on the couch in her pajamas, they’re watching Letterman. He’s in the middle of his monologue. I shake my head and move toward the kitchen

I stare into the confines of the pantry for nearly five minutes. My mind plays a tug of war, one side desperately craving Raisin Bran, the other side angling for Oreos. The Raisin Bran wins. I grab the box and drop it down on the counter. Then I snag the milk from the fridge and grab a bowl from the cupboard. I fill the bowl up, put away the containers, and then drop a spoon into the cereal. I grab it and head back to my bedroom.

Maybe it was my subconscious that forced my stomach to bring me down here. I don’t know. But when I pass the living room again, Letterman’s voice rings out in my ears, sending a little jolt through my body.

“Please welcome Grant West.”

I pause, then turn left and peer at the LCD screen in the living room. I admit it, just seeing him makes my heart do this little fluttering thing that I don’t quite understand. He looks good. Really good. My mind flies back to that moment on the street. That kiss was a sham, but I can’t help but remember how good it felt back when I thought it was real.

I step halfway into the living room. My mind keeps telling me I don’t want to be here, that I want to be walking upstairs and pretending like Grant doesn’t exist. I don’t listen.

Angelina hits the volume button and Grants voice fills the air. There’s something strange going on with him. He’s a bit jittery, like he might be nervous or something, which is weird. He’s a movie star. He’s done a million of these interviews.

Mom appears behind me. “What are you watching?” she asks.

“Shhh!” Angelina holds up her hands and waves Mom off. We all watch in silence.

The interview starts to move a little smoother. Letterman begins asking Grant questions about filming
Deader than Night
and Grant relaxes. He launches into a story about getting chased by a group of fans in Vancouver.

“They were everywhere,” he says, a smile on his face and laughter in his eyes. “We just walked out of this restaurant and we were swarmed. It was that moment really, that I realized nothing was going to be the same.”

“
We
being?” Letterman asks.

“Oh, Summer, Summer Stone,” Grant says quickly. But almost immediately his face drains of color and he becomes very still in his chair. He moves only to look down at his hands.

“Right,” Letterman says. “Well I hear she’s, uh, engaged now.”

Grant looks up and blinks. “What? Oh yeah. Right. I uh, wish her the best. You know. Congratulations.”

He looks like he’s trying really hard to mean it. I remember the look in his eyes when he saw her in New York. Maybe he still loves her.

“What are you guys all doing in here?” Dad shows up through the kitchen door. This time everyone, including me, says, “shhhhh!”

Letterman looks mildly uncomfortable. He paints a fake smile on his face. “Well I hear you have someone in your life as well now too,” he says brightly. He grabs something off the desk and holds it up.

And so it begins. It’s the picture from outside LIMA. The one where you can see my face. Now Grant isn’t so still. He’s starting to shift around a little awkwardly in his seat. He smiles at the photo, but it’s tight and forced.

“Sydney isn’t it?” Letterman asks.

“Um, yeah,” Grant says. “The things is...about her.”

It’s coming. He’s going to tell the truth. I know I told Caroline I didn’t care, but I realize now that I really do. I hold my cereal bowl tightly in my hands.

“Where did you two meet?” Letterman asks.

My family all seems to be leaning forward, toward the TV, waiting just as impatiently as I am for Grant’s answer. His lips move a bit, but he stays silent.

“Was it love at first sight?” Letterman prods.

Grant is looking positively stricken now. His brow is all shiny, like he’s sweating heavily, and his right leg is bouncing up and down so quickly. He smiles, frowns, smiles. Looks at Letterman, out to the audience, and then down at his hands. Then he just sort of relaxes.

“Yes.” He says to his hands.

Wait. What the hell is he saying yes to?

“Yes?” Letterman asks.

Grant looks up. “Yes, it was definitely love at first sight. Sydney is amazing.”

My grip on the cereal bowl slackens and it crashes to the ground in a raisiny explosion. I can feel the milk seep between my toes and the soggy bits of bran cling to my bare feet. My parents, Angelina, and America – they’re all looking at me with wide, scandalized eyes. I don’t know what to do, what to say. Somewhere in the house phones start ringing. The house line, the office line, multiple cell phones. They echo from every corner.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Grant West just told the entire world that I’m his girlfriend. But the worst part is that he’s still talking about me. I stare at the screen.

“She’s actually not really a fan,” Grant admits when Letterman asks. “She didn’t even recognize me when we first met. And she hates
Dead of Night
. But you know, it’s nice to meet someone like her, refreshing. I love my fans so much, but sometimes it’s hard being the center of so much attention. With Sydney I can just be some normal guy.”

Half an hour, at most. That’s how long we spent together and somehow he’s managed to stretch that brief slice of time into a relationship several weeks long. The show finally cuts to a commercial break. A baby crawls across the screen chasing some toy. My family gazes at me.

“I...uh...I...” I can’t find any words; nothing can make this better now.

“How could you lie to us?” Dad finally erupts.

“I didn’t. I swear.” I step out of the raisin bran spill and move toward him.

He points to the TV. “And what was that then?”

“A lie. He’s lying. I swear on my life, we are not a couple. I haven’t seen or heard from him since that night.”

“Yeah right. Why would he lie about dating you?” Angelina snickers with distaste. “I mean he could be with any girl...the only reason to connect himself to someone like you is if there’s really a connection.”

I glare at her and turn to my parents. Mom looks like she’s torn between happiness and disappointment. And Dad, well his face is boiling red and his fists are clenched so tightly that the veins on his forearms are popping out alarmingly.

“I’ve had enough of your lies young lady.”

If possible, the phones ringing in the background get louder.

“I’m not lying! And will someone answer the damn phone!” I burst out.

America seems to be the only one left on my side. She leaps up and procures a phone from the front hall. She answers it and then hands it to me. “It’s Caroline.”

Dad shakes his head, folds his arms across his chest, and then turns to my mom. “I don’t know what to do with her.”

While he’s distracted, I take the phone and slip out of the room.

“OH MY GOD!” Caroline screams into my ear. “Tell me you watched.”

“I watched.” I whisper.

“OH MY GOD.”

“Tell me about it.” I walk down the hall, trailing my fingers over the long buffet table.

“I just can’t believe it. It’s like a fairy tale.” She marvels.

I scoff. “A fairy tale? Try a damn horror movie!” Even though I’m in the hall, I can still hear my parents loudly arguing about me in the other room. With one kiss and a few words Grant has turned me into a circus act, a disappointment, and a liar.

Someone starts knocking on the front door. I don’t think anyone else hears it. I head down the hall.

“Why do you think he did it?” Caroline asks.

“God knows.” I unlock the bolt on the door and then turn the handle. “This is a nightmare,” I groan. “After I finally got everyone to listen to me at school, they’re all going to think I was lying. My life is over.”

“Or it’s just beginning.”

“Yeah whatever, give me a sec. Someone’s at the door. Ava probably forgot her keys again” I say to Caroline, then I reach out and pull the door toward me.

“Hello?” I look out the door. The phone drops from my hand and clatters against the tile floor at my feet.

“Hi Sydney,” Grant West says.