Star-Crossed Letters (Falling for Famous #1)(25)

It feels wrong to share, as if I’d be betraying his ability to have private moments without them becoming fodder for the gossip mill. So, feeling guilty, I decide to keep our meeting just for me. And especially our kiss. That’s for me and my dreams.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never Googled a celebrity.”

Daisy grins. “Of course I have. Just not Chase James. He’s not my type.”

“He’s everyone’s type,” Audrey argues. I mentally high-five her.

“Not mine,” Daisy insists.

“Then who is your type?” I want to get dirt on her, just in case she keeps teasing me for my crush.

She hesitates and then leans over, types on my keyboard, and clicks.

A photo of rock legend Ryder Black fills the screen. I’m not surprised she has the hots for him. Most girls do. But it surprises me she has a crush she’s never mentioned. I always think of Daisy as an open book with no filter.

“I didn’t know you liked him. You never even listen to his music.”

She shrugs. “I do. But it’s a private thing.”

Audrey smooths her hair. “The problem with celebrity crushes is that they’re pointless. It’s not like he would ever meet and fall in love with a regular girl.”

“True.” I’ve had enough of unrequited love with Remington.

Daisy crosses her arms and frowns. “Celebrities aren’t gods. They’re just people. They would be damn lucky to go out with one of us.” She turns to me. “But don’t change the subject. Start mentally preparing for our night out. I want to meet Drunk Olivia in person.”

“I’m still recovering from the last time I got drunk. I made an ass out of myself and lost a friend,” I say.

The one good thing about The Kiss is that being preoccupied with it has helped distract me from missing Remington. But even with the excitement of Chase James, I ache when I think of Remington. I miss our friendship deeply. A dozen times a day I think of things I want to tell him and then remember I can’t.

“We’ll find you a real man tonight.”

“Where are you going?” Audrey asks.

“I’m dragging Olivia to the Red Room for dancing. You up for it?”

Audrey laughs. “Not in a million.”

“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Daisy,” I hedge.

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking a risk a day?” Audrey asks. “This can be your risk.”

I knew I shouldn’t have told Audrey about Nanna’s letter. Now the two of them are going to gang up on me.

“I already took a risk,” I defend, crossing my arms. “I had one of our new banana scones.”

“In what world is eating a scone a risk?”

“You know how much I hate bananas.” I shudder. “That mushy texture.”

“If that’s what you consider a risk, then you are definitely coming out with me. Just don’t drink champagne, and you’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.





Later that night, we’re in an Uber on the way to the club.

Daisy’s phone rings. She looks at the screen and smiles as she answers. “Hey, big bro.”

I’ve never met her brother, but I know Daisy talks to him frequently. Audrey and I both suspect he’s a silent partner in her vintage shop, or he at least helps her financially. With her haphazard approach to business, it would amaze me that she’s been able to keep it open completely on her own.

“Ooh, a surprise for me? Well, can you give me a hint?” She laughs at his response.

“Okay, I’ll be patient.”

“We’re here,” the Uber driver says, pulling up to the curb.

“Hey, I gotta go. We just arrived at the club. I resent that. I’m always good. Okay. Can’t wait for your surprise. Talk to you tomorrow. Love you.” She clicks off.

“Sorry,” she says. “Just my brother.”

I look out the window at the tall, old, narrow building that houses the Red Room. Each floor has a different theme and music. I’ve only been here once before, and it was early and quiet on a weeknight. The topmost floor was set up like a speakeasy, with deep velvet chairs, bluesy music, and a skilled bartender. It was intimate and felt like stepping into another era. I plan to hide out there while Daisy gets groovy dancing.

We wave goodbye to the driver and link arms, walking down the street. A giddy feeling overtakes me. The air feels electric, as if anything is possible. Maybe Daisy is right; maybe I’ve gone so far into my rut I forgot what fun a night out can be. I’m young. I shouldn’t waste my twenties staying home alone. Even introverts need people sometimes.

We walk toward a long line of club kids dressed to party. A beefy bouncer wearing all black is checking IDs.

As always, Daisy leads us straight to the front of the line.

The bouncer’s face is a scowl until he sees Daisy. He goes from scary to welcoming in a flash. “Hey, tiny dancer. Where’ve you been?”

She leans over to give him a hug. “Oh, you know me, here and there. Juan, this is my friend Olivia.”

I give him an awkward wave and try to pull down my dress so it fully covers my backside. Earlier tonight, Daisy played fairy godmother to my Cinderella. It’s one of her favorite parlor tricks, turning boring me into a slutty princess for a night out.