Star-Crossed Letters (Falling for Famous #1)(61)

“Oh shit. Fine, I’m going.”

The three leave fast. It’s awkward as fuck.

Olivia watches them go, her face flushed. “They aren’t subtle, are they?”

I shake my head. I don’t want to talk about them.

With Daisy gone, there’s no one between us. Olivia’s bare feet and legs dangle in the water. I kick off my shoes, roll up the jeans I wore on the plane, and sit next to her. The water is cool, but I can feel her heat.

She sucks in a breath, watching me. Like magnets, we lean closer. My eyes zero in on those lips. If her tongue peeps out, I’ll be a goner.

Her eyes close, and she tilts her face toward me. I want to take what she’s offering.

But I can’t. If I’ve learned anything from this dangerous situation I’ve created, it’s that. I shift away, and she jerks back as if burned.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“I need to be clear—”

“You first,” she says.

“I just hope…I hope we can be friends. Anything else would put you in more danger, and it would kill me if something happened to you.”

The look in Olivia’s eyes before she glances away guts me. Fuck, I hate this. But there’s no other way.

She’s silent for a long moment. I resist the urge to fill the space with more apologies.

“Friends, sure,” she says. “Of course. It seems like you’re back with Cassidy now.”

The tabloids have been full of Cassidy and me, rumors from filming in the jungle, even if the gossip is baseless.

She shivers, and I resist the urge to pull her into my arms to warm her. I open my mouth to deny the rumors and then change my mind.

Maybe it’s for the best that she thinks I’m with someone else. It’s safer this way. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t say the lie. There are too many other untruths between us. So I just nod.

The silence lengthens and she jumps up before I can answer her. “Okay. Well, that was a good talk. I’m going to sleep now.”

I think she’s going to walk away, but she hesitates.

“Chase?”

“Yeah?” I watch her standing over me.

Bundled in a towel, with her long, wet hair sticking to her face and shoulders, she’s everything I’ve ever wanted and won’t let myself have.

“Thank you.”

She says it softly, and the words compete with the music and laughter of the surrounding party, but it’s all I can hear and the last thing I expect.

“For what?”

“For having us here. For trying to keep us safe. Don’t worry about me. You’ve been honest from the start about what we are and what we aren’t. I understand. You don’t need to feel guilty.”

My breath leaves me in a blow. I hurt her; I know I did. And what does she do? She thanks me. And calls me honest, when that’s the last thing I am. With her, my Typewriter Girl. With myself. The lies just keep compounding. They’re for her sake, but they still stack up in front of me like an accounting of my sins.

“Good night,” I say.

Then I watch her walk away.





CHAPTER 24





Olivia



The next morning, I wake with the sun streaming through gauzy curtains in the all-white guest room. It overlooks the pool, and the sky and water are brilliant hues of blue. This whole stalker situation might be confusing, and I was just friend-zoned by the Sexiest Man Alive, but at least my room rocks.

There’s something about the bright Malibu sunshine that makes me hop out of bed. Maybe it’s also the possibility of seeing Chase around the kitchen table. It will hurt, but the pain will have a certain pleasure intertwined.

Breakfast at the mansion has become one of my favorite parts of the day in my short stay here. For the past few mornings, it’s been an adventure to see who will show up in the enormous kitchen. Marie acts like a den mother for the guys and their friends, laying out a full breakfast spread each morning that must rival any five-star hotel.

I stumble in, looking for coffee, only to find Daisy, Sebastian, Emma, Ryder, and a handful of Ryder’s music entourage sitting around the table. Relief and disappointment run through me because Chase is absent.

“Hey,” I say shyly, pulling my hair up into a jaunty ponytail. I’d brushed my hair, my teeth, and dressed in an oversized T-shirt and leggings, both courtesy of Emma after I begged her for some actual comfy clothes. I even slicked on a little gloss. That’s as fancy as I get before my first cup of coffee, celebrity roommates or not. Working in a café has got me addicted to caffeine. If I don’t caffeinate soon, I’ll get a killer headache.

“Speak of the devil!” Daisy greets me, looking like the epitome of a California girl in a mustard-yellow macramé bathing suit and a gauzy cover-up, her hair in braids. “We were just talking about you!”

The rest of the table mumbles greetings around mouthfuls of pancakes and eggs.

Marie fills a coffee cup for me, pouring in milk and foam from a large silver dish, along with two generous scoops of sugar, just the way I like it. Bless her.

“I love you, Marie.” I moan as I take the first sip.

“You look tired today, Ms. Olivia. Make a plate. You need to eat.” She fusses over me.