Stars (Penmore #1) (14 page)

“So, where are we going?” I nervously ask as Gray helps me into his car.

“I thought we could go see a movie. There’s a new horror one that I’ve been meaning to see.”

“Horror?” I squeak. Yep, I was prepared to do just about anything with Gray: skydiving, dancing, a cooking class, tightrope walking or eating foreign meals that I would pretend to like. But watching a horror movie? I don’t think I can do that. “Like with serial killers or ghosts?” I ask, still not managing to get my voice back down to my usual octave.

Yep, I’m pretty sure I just sounded like I was thirteen. Great.

Gray just chuckles and says, “Yeah, I think there might be ghosts. Not your thing?”

“Well, I don’t really have anything against ghosts
exactly
. I guess I just usually like my full eight hours of sleep. Worrying about what ghosts might be lurking in my dorm room, with pent-up anger over maybe a hazing incident that went wrong, ready to punish five-foot-four brunettes who remind her of her old sorority sisters
might possibly
keep me up all night.”

“Okay, so no horror movies.” He smiles. “How about action?”

“With Bruce Willis? Or Sylvester Stallone?” I ask eagerly. Now we’re talking.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure there’s a new Stallone movie, if you’re keen? Otherwise, we could just find some place to have dinner. Have you got any suggestions? I was going to make a reservation, but I figured seeing as you’re a local you probably know more about where we should eat than I do.”

“No, let’s do a movie. I love the movies.” I also love not trying to pretend to be someone I’m not.

I’d like to live the fantasy, even if it’s just for a few hours, before I have to tell him that I’m not who he thinks I am.

Is that terrible of me?

“Sounds good,” he murmurs, reaching out and lacing his fingers with mine.

He brings our hands to his lips and lightly kisses my knuckles.

I would wait until the end of the movie. Savor every second, every heated look.

After I’ve had two hours sitting in the darkness staring at him, our joined hands and the small grin that tugs at his mouth. That’s when I would confess and risk giving up the dream. Or
maybe
. If I wait, say a week, surely that wouldn’t make a huge difference. I could do it over dinner. Much better that way anyhow. Then tonight can just be about us. Our first evening together. If I was only going to get one memory. One dream. I didn’t want to taint it with reality.

Not yet.

PARKER

Are you going to let me see you Saturday?

We were in sociology and unlike a week ago, Grayson was back sitting beside me. But was he paying attention to our professor? That would be a big fat no. Sunday night, after our first official date, once we finally finished kissing in front of my dorm, I decreed that there would be no chatting today in class. We were going to focus and possibly listen to Mr. Gibbons for the first time in six weeks. So the sneaky bastard started to text me ten minutes into the lecture.

And sure, I held strong.

For approximately two minutes.

Apparently, if I know Grayson is trying to tell me something, it trumps Mr. Gibbons.

No.

There. A short text message, direct and back to listening. I can definitely multitask.

Until I hear my phone go off again.

I will not look.

I will
not
look.

All right, I looked. Damn the gorgeous distraction that is this man. I’ll just quickly reply and finish the conversation.

But this is the first Saturday since you became mine that I’m actually in town.

Yours?

My girlfriend? Social-media-official relationship?

So, I’m your girlfriend? And just so you know, I don’t have social media.

How do you not have social media? Never mind. Completely off topic. Yes, you are. And therefore, I would like to see MY GIRLFRIEND Saturday night.

I’m working the Halloween party at Lucky’s this Saturday.

“Fuck my life. Seriously, the Halloween party?” Grayson yells, causing everyone in the row in front of us to turn and give us disapproving looks.

“Shhh, keep your voice down! And yes, Marissa asked me last Saturday, when you were away,” I say, hunching lowly in my chair and pulling him down with me so we can continue our whispered conversation without an audience.

Grayson is visibly upset. His eyes sharply focus on my face, his jaw tightening as he grits his teeth. “What’s the costume this year? Last year, they were fucking Victoria’s Secret angels,” he growls.

I pictured the latex Catwoman suit, apparently inspired by the Adam Hughes comic books, that Marissa had me try on yesterday. The fabric accentuates my rather generous God-given assets. Plus the zipper down the middle of the one-piece, which starts at my collarbone and ends beneath my crotch, seems to inspire dark fantasies. I knew this was a lot more fabric than the last year’s waitresses wore. Seeing as I wore leather pants every shift, I didn’t feel like the costume was too drastic a change from the usual. Really, I thought Grayson should be grateful. Plus, he loves superheroes. Maybe Catwoman isn’t necessarily a hero, but she definitely kicks ass.

However, from the reaction Nate had, what with bursting out laughing and making jokes about Gray’s future heart attack, I felt that
grateful
might not be his response to my outfit.

“I’d rather not say,” I reply, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.

“Fine, what time does your shift start?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m guessing I’m spending Halloween at Lucky’s.”

“On your best behavior, right? You won’t get into any fights if someone tries to hit on me.” During our first date, a guy from the varsity baseball team—Jason Fielding, I think—tried to give me his number while we lined up to get movie tickets. To say that Gray was upset with this occurrence would be an understatement. I spent a good chunk of time trying to keep him in our line and away from Jason. Repeating to him that I would prefer to see the new action blockbuster, rather than have to play nurse to his injuries. Unfortunately, Gray didn’t seem too troubled by the thought of me playing nurse. But tonight, I was working, which meant I couldn’t afford to play nurse if I wanted to keep my job.

“Babe, if I injure my throwing arm, the university would pitch a fit.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I start at 8pm on Saturday.” I can’t imagine that if he was willing to leave his mom living alone for his education, he would ever risk his scholarship.

“Good. I’ll head home after the game, shower and get into my costume. Granted, babe, you should know I don’t give a fuck what the university will do if I need to send a message to someone not to touch my girl.”

Well, I guess I was wrong. It’s probably really bad of me to be turned on by that, right?

Instead of thinking about what a horrible person I am, I decide to remind Grayson that, “We have only gone on one date.”

Then I get hit with Grayson logic.

“Stars, you look for me when I’m not around?”

“Maybe.”

“You get excited when I text?”

“Okay, yes.”

“You like when I kiss you?”

“Well, obviously.”

“Babe, you’re mine.”

GRAYSON

Lucky’s was swarming with sexual tension and skimpily clad bodies. From all the guys on the team talking about their costumes, most people I knew were planning on attending the Halloween bash. However, the crowd of superheroes, flapper girls and naughty cops was even larger than I anticipated. Everyone was drunk off their asses. There is no fucking way I would be here if it weren’t for Stars.

Marissa probably would have begged and nagged me into making an appearance, knowing that if I told anyone I was coming hundreds would follow, but she eventually would have conceded. She knows how much I hate drunks, or worse, the attention I manage to attract once I’m amongst Herons supporters. But knowing my girl had to work tonight on top of Marissa’s love of dressing her workers in skimpy Halloween costumes, there was no way I wasn’t standing guard.

After nodding to Bo, I made my way to the center bar. I knew most of the girls would need to touch base with the main bartender tonight, and Maris always put the best at the center of her establishment.

The guy was exactly where I thought I would find him, right behind the center bar, filling shots for a group of Playboy bunnies, in a Batman costume. It was actually a pretty impressive get-up. I could only just make out his sharp jaw line and see his lips and chin.

For all I knew, Maris had hired George Clooney to work for her. No wonder the bunnies were providing him with all their attention.

I give him a quick nod before I start scanning the room for Stars.

It doesn’t take me long to work out what Marissa has made all of her waitresses dress up as tonight.

Every girl carrying a drink tray is dressed in a latex Catwoman costume with a zipper that runs down the middle of her body from neck to crotch. Nearly all of the girls have the zipper open to the point of indecency, exposing a hell of a lot of cleavage.

I’m going fucking stir-crazy each time I see a waitress bend over and take someone’s order, because every time their tits nearly fall into the guy’s face. If it weren’t for the blonde hair I kept seeing underneath their cat ears, I might be throwing punches. Just the idea that a lot of guys might have seen my girl’s amazing chest unclothed, before I even have a chance to see it, pisses me off. I’m just about to approach one of the waitresses and ask if she’s seen Parker when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

I turn to find Batman, the bartender, pointing to a rowdy group of freshmen sitting in a corner both with a waitress trying to place their beers on the small accompanying side table. I see that they have the most covered Catwoman serving them, her zipper done up all the way to her collarbone, and the sight of her brown curling hair makes me exhale with relief. Until I notice the offensive gestures each of the guys is making at her, revealing that they apparently have an issue with not getting the same show some of the other patrons have been experiencing.

Just as I’m about to reach her, one of the fattest idiots starts reaching for her zipper and I hear him mutter the words, “Fucking prude.”

I believe it was really perfect timing that their pitcher of beer was brand-spanking new and my girl had just placed it on a moveable table, like watching Leyton run past the fifty-yard line.

I knew exactly what I needed to do.

In less than a second, I was able to lift the black metallic stand, watch their beer fly into the air and pour all over their cheap gangsta costumes.

I
did
promise Parker I wouldn’t hit anyone tonight, after all.

They’re still cursing when I decide to get my girl the fuck away from their bullshit and take her to the one place I knew in this shithole that would offer us privacy and a chance for me to cool off before I broke any of my promises.

PARKER

Grayson pulls me into the storeroom before I have the opportunity to growl at him for pouring beers on those obnoxious customers.

Did they deserve it? Fuck yes.