Starlight (Peaches Monroe) (Volume 2) Paperback – September 2, 2013 (6 page)

“I’ll be in LA in two days. Let’s talk then, and I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“There were some very hurtful things in that script.”

Sounding annoyed now, he said, “Don’t be ridiculous. A script is just words on a page. There’s no nuance. It’s bare bones without the actor giving it life.”

“I don’t want anything to do with actors, and I don’t want anything to do with you, Dalton Deangelo. We are over.”

“I don’t get any say in the matter?”

“Sure. Let’s take a vote. I vote we’re broken up. What’s your opinion?”

And then I ended the call before he started talking. That wasn’t quite enough, though, so I threw the phone on the bed a couple of times, just to really show him.

What would he have said? That he’d started off dating me as an experiment, then found out I was an actual human being? Ugh. Where do you go from there? A relationship built on lies is like a bra with no underwire.
Fucking useless to me.

The floor creaked on the other side of the door, then Keith said, “I wasn’t listening in. Not at first, but then it got interesting.”

I jumped out of the bed and flung open the door.

Keith flinched, his arms up over his head for protection. “Not the face,” he howled, grinning wildly. “Not the abs either. Those are my payday. Just kick me in the shins.”

“Listening in is rude.”

“So’s yelling so loud you wake up your host and rouse his curiosity.”

Still holding his hands up protectively, he said, “You look really cute in my jersey.”

I stared at him, standing in his burgundy bath robe, looking just like a regular person in a regular apartment.

He breathed.

I breathed.

After a few seconds, I managed to get my bitch dialed down from eleven to about five.

“I’m sorry* I woke you up,” I said. “I’m sorry I’m not being a very good house guest.”

*See? I can apologize. It’s very easy. You just say one little word, and mean it. Why is it so hard for some guys to do the same?

He said, “I’m sorry I was eavesdropping, and I’m sorry that you broke up with some guy.”

“Not just
some guy
. Dalton Deangelo. You knew that. Everyone knows that. But we’re through now.”

“Oh.” His thick, black eyebrows rose and stayed quite high for a while, as he moved into the corner of the apartment with the kitchen and started moving things around. “There’s been a huge misunderstanding on my part. I’m just a dumb model. I thought you and Dalton were just pretending to be dating, for the publicity. Wow.” He stared down at his fancy coffee maker like he’d forgotten where to put the water. “Wow,” he repeated.

“I’m glad we’re through,” I said, taking a seat on one of the stools next to the counter. The chrome chair was more comfortable than it looked, thank goodness. “It was only a few weeks, but I was already sick of the disbelief on everyone’s faces when they found out their perfect hero was dating a chubby commoner.”

Keith ran his hand through his near-black hair, looking embarrassed. “I meant that… I wouldn’t have kissed you last night if I’d known you were actually with someone else. I don’t approve of cheating.”

“Me, neither! Keith, you have to know… I was really pissed at Dalton. In my heart, it was over.”

“Okay,” he murmured.

“We’re cool, right?”

He rummaged through the cupboards and pulled down a silver container and a measuring spoon.

I put my face in my hands and rubbed my eyes. I felt horrible. Keith had been so kind to me, and I’d violated his mouth with my cheating mouth, and now he hated me.

I held up my hands and tried to find the words to apologize again, but nothing came to me.

Keith measured out the coffee grounds, the smell a pleasant distraction.

The kitchen looked renovated, much newer than the building itself, with cabinets in a light-hued wood, and unusual, oval-shaped handles. My mother used to have oval-shaped handles in her kitchen, and they drove her nuts. She’s not OCD or anything, but they wiggled around and she could never get them straight. Even when they
were
straight, they felt crooked to the fingers during casual use. She wasn’t crazy; I felt the wrongness, too.

The oval handles in Keith’s little kitchen filled me with a sad, desperate feeling—homesickness. I would see my mother again, but I would never
live
with her again, never hear her day-to-day run-downs of things she couldn’t get quite straight. Every time I saw Kyle, he’d be noticeably bigger, because I didn’t see him every day. My father rarely got to see me do some casually stupid thing and mention that I was “prone to whimsy.” Okay, I didn’t miss that last thing.

Keith got the coffee perking, and finally said, “Yeah, I guess we’re cool. I wish I hadn’t made such a jackass out of myself last night.”

“Don’t say that. I really enjoyed kissing you.”

“Stolen kisses,” he said, giving me a hungry look with his dark brown eyes.

“You do look a bit like a raven,” I said. “Your last name that you upgraded from your middle name is perfect.”

“And you, my fair maiden, look like a peach.”

I glowered at him, crossing my arms over my chest, still wearing nothing but his jersey and my underwear, yet strangely comfortable.

“Thanks a lot,” I said, my voice flat with sarcasm. “I’m round and fuzzy to you?”

He laughed. “I meant sweet and delicious. Your round parts are nice, as well, but I haven’t seen anything that’s fuzzy.”

“My mother says I’ll get the family chin-fuzz when I turn forty.”

“And you’re how old now?”

“Over half-way there.”

He put his elbows on the counter—tiles, light brown—and leaned in close to me, examining my chin. “Nothing yet.” He put his hands on either side of my jaw, gently tilting my face up. His touch was warm and reassuring, and I didn’t want him to stop holding my face, so I rested my hands on top of his.

His voice low and quiet, he murmured, “How many more days are you in LA?”

I swallowed. “Nine days,” I whispered.

He leaned in closer, nearly touching his lips to mine.

“I just got out of a relationship,” he said.

“What a coincidence. Me, too.”

“My wounds are nearly as fresh as yours. Do you know what animals do in the wild when they’re wounded?”

“They die.”

He smirked, then relaxed his mouth into a solemn expression.

“I have a proposition for you.”

“Does it include coffee?”

“I’m suggesting that you and I make like wild animals and lick each other’s… emotional wounds.”

“Interesting.” I gazed up into his model-pretty eyes, rimmed with thick, black eyelashes. No wonder he was in demand as an underwear model. That face could sell seawater to sailors.

“The next nine days could be
very
interesting,” he said.

“Keith, what you need to know about me is I’m a very smart girl. Top of my class when I make the effort. When I put together furniture, there are never any leftover pieces.”

He was still holding my face, and staring at me with an amused expression.

“Are you trying to let me down easy? I can handle the truth. At casting calls, they don’t mince words. I’ve been told to my face I’m not attractive enough. That hurts. Also, too old, too young, too tall, too short. I’ve heard everything. So, lay it on me. Are you turning me down because I drive a crappy green van, live in a run-down apartment, and I’m not as rich and famous as your last boyfriend?”

“What I mean is that I’m the kind of smart girl who does extremely stupid things. Like walk around shirtless with the blinds open. And go running through the woods at night. Or, come to think of it, naked trespassing by day. I do a lot of stupid things, but that stops now.”

“So you don’t want to use me as your emotional Band-Aid and personal play toy for nine days?”

I bit my lip. “No?”

“Sounds like a question.”

He closed the distance and rubbed the tip of his nose against mine.

“I should go back to Dalton’s house,” I said. “That’s where I was staying. Let’s have a cup of coffee, and let’s keep everything between us professional from now on. We can heal each other’s emotional wounds as friends. That could work.”

He withdrew his hands from the sides of my face and pulled back to stand up straight.

“One cup of coffee,” he said. “Then I’ll drive you wherever you want.”

I nodded, proud yet disappointed by my good decision-making.

Keith pulled the full carafe from the coffee maker, grabbed two mugs from the cupboard, then turned and left the kitchen. He walked into the bedroom—his bedroom—without a word.

I sat at the counter for a moment, my chin on my hands.

His bedroom was where he kept his bed. Beds are not where friends hang out.
A friend should not go in there
, argued the sensible part of me.

But he has the coffee in there
, said another part of me.

And he’s probably naked
, said yet another part of me. (That would be our friend, Miss Kitty.)

Despite the urging of some body parts, I wasn’t falling into this new trap of Keith's. Nope. Not going into his bedroom, even if he did have all the coffee.

I wandered over to the washroom, where I freshened up with a quick shower and gave my teeth a brushing. I came out in a towel and sat on the sofa. I expected Keith to come out of the bedroom, fully dressed and laughing about his hilarious joke, but he didn’t.

The door was mostly closed.

I went to the doorway, pushed open the door, and stood there in my towel. The curtains were drawn, and the room was dark and still.

“How’s that coffee?” I called out.

“Drop the towel and get your sweet ass in here, Miss Smarty Pants Class Valedictorian.”

“I was never a valedictorian. That honor went to an evil wench named Brie. She always had the best clothes, and her family was mega-rich.” I had more to say about Brie, but stopped myself. I’m stupid at times, but I do realize high-school girl grudges are of very little interest to men, unless there’s hair-pulling or pillow fights.

The curtains were really thick in Keith’s room, and my eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, so all I could see was shapes. One shape in particular stood out. Oh, yes, he was naked.

“Why don’t you get in here,” he called gently. “Pretend I’m that wench Brie’s boyfriend.”

“She went out with a few different guys.”

“Pretend I’m all of them. Or pretend I’m her daddy.”

I squealed. “Mr. Harrison? He owns the big grocery store in town. I still see him all the time.”

“And?”

“And I’m dropping my towel. Now I’m coming in. Don’t laugh, and don’t look at my butt.”

I slipped into the dark room and closed the door behind me. It was cooler in here than in the rest of the apartment, with the air conditioner whirring steadily.

With his voice deeper than usual, he said, “Why, Peaches. You’ve certainly grown into a fine young woman. I’m so glad you and my daughter are friends.”

“No role-playing,” I said. “You’re an underwear model and I’m a girl who packs chocolate in her purse at all times. This, right here, is the full fantasy.”

I got onto the bed on my hands and knees and crept forward for a kiss.

“We’ll take it slow,” he said, gently caressing my lips with his.

I glanced around the room, stopping when I spotted the packets that were at the ready on his bedside table. We were good to go.

“Good to see you have prophylactics standing by at the ready,” I said. “All the better for licking each other like wild animals.”

“Do you think a dozen is enough?” he asked innocently.

“Sure. If things go sideways, at least we can make a balloon animal zoo.” I kissed him again, enjoying the sense of calm I got when we touched. My pulse wasn’t racing at all. Either I was getting better at staying cool around incredibly hot guys, or there was something different—better—about Keith, compared to he-whose-name-shall-not-be-invoked.

“Your hair is dripping on me,” Keith said.

“Sorry.” I pulled away.

“Shh, don’t be.”

Did he just shush me? Shushing usually makes me angry, but this time, I just sat there quietly as he pulled his robe from a hook near the bed and patted my hair to remove water.

“Nearly done,” he said, and then he did something curious.

I was sitting in the center of the bed with my legs out in front of me. He climbed over my legs, straddling them while facing me. When his butt came down on my thighs, my legs parted to let him sit on the bed. He kept reaching around my head, patting my hair dry, with his money makers nuzzling up against Miss Kitty. Casually. Like,
Oh, didn’t see you there, m’lady.

His balls rubbed against my mound as though we were sharing a pair of Fundies*, and I breathed in the scent of his body and ran my hands over the fascinating terrain of his chest.

*Fundies are novelty underwear for two people, often given as a gag gift by people who’ve never actually had sex. This mention of Fundies was in no way sponsored or suggested to me by the wacky pervs who make Fundies.

Keith’s chest was beautiful, rippling under my fingertips as he finished towel-drying my hair. I tried not to think of how I looked to him. Surely after posing together in our underwear the previous day, there were very few surprises for either of us.

Keith tossed the robe aside and pressed both of his cool palms against my back, pulling me in for a hug. The hug lasted a long time. Like, I thought we were done hugging and began kissing his tanned shoulder, but the hug kept happening. Finally, I just gave into the hug, going limp. I think that’s what you’re supposed to do when a bear attacks you.

After a moment, I became aware of my breathing, and how it had fallen in rhythm to match Keith’s. I wondered if our hearts were beating together as well, because it sure seemed like it. He was still straddling my lap, our parts commingling like overly-friendly co-workers at an open-bar staff Christmas party, and the whole thing felt intense, but good.

An energy was climbing up my backbone, like a fast-growing vine, made of fire. The energy was sexual, but also more than that. What was Keith doing to me with this hug? Was he some sort of new-age earth muffin type? Honestly, if he’d started chanting next, I wouldn’t have been surprised.