Star-Crossed Letters (Falling for Famous #1)(71)

Daisy saunters into the kitchen.

“What are you doing up so early?” I ask.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she replies with a wide yawn. “Damn birds outside my window.” She slides on a pair of sunglasses. “And the sun. So much sun.”

Emma watches Daisy with narrowed eyes. “Aren’t you the perky one? Isn’t that part of your thing? Fun. Blond. Perky. A little zany.”

Daisy rolls her eyes. “I am perky. But not before eight a.m. I need time to build up to greatness.”

“So what you’re saying is Daisy’s a manic pixie dream girl?” I say to Emma with a snort.

“Well, we are in Hollywood.” Emma gives a shrug. “We’re all playing a part. For example, I’m the overachieving biatch. And I fully embrace the cliché.” She kicks out her stilettos.

“I love a self-aware diva,” Daisy says, filling her coffee cup from the large French press that Marie left on the stove.

“And I am…?” I ask, cringing a little.

“Girl next door,” Emma and Daisy say in unison.

“Huh. I guess the girl next door could be worse.”

“Now that we know what part we’d play in a movie of our lives, I just have to say you’re looking mighty foxy, Miss Olivia, in a sporty way.” Daisy eyes up my terry cloth shorts and V-neck T-shirt.

“Courtesy of Emma.” I do a little twirl. I’m having fun with my new wardrobe, even the workout clothes. It’s making me rethink my former fashion choices. I do miss my writerly Tshirts, though. Those make me happy, so I don’t plan on leaving them behind anytime soon.

Emma shakes her head. “Courtesy of Chase.”

“But you picked it out, right? And put the shopping bag on my bed yesterday.”

“Nope,” Emma says. “That was all Chase. He didn’t do too bad, considering he’s a man. Seems he got the sizes right. He must be very observant.” She grins.

“But he bought me sports bras. Several.” I gulp, mortified at the thought of Chase knowing my sizes. I’m not exactly an extra small like Daisy.

Emma cackles wickedly. “I am surprised.”

“That he bought me sportswear? Me too.”

“No, that he went shopping. He never goes shopping.”

Daisy nods. “He always gets mobbed, so he never goes anywhere.”

“We talked about that a little yesterday after our run,” I say.

“Chase’s fan base is extreme. He went from being unknown to one of the most famous people on the planet overnight. I don’t think he’s ever figured out how to handle it. He’s never really recovered from the experience of all that sudden fame.”

“But other celebrities do, right? They don’t just hide away.”

“Ryder and Sebastian go out,” Daisy says. “All the time.”

“Sebastian doesn’t care about being photographed. He eats it up,” Emma says. “But he’s used to it. He was born famous.”

“What about Ryder?”

“Ryder is good with disguises.” Daisy grins.

“Ryder and his disguises. Bless his hot heart,” Emma says, cracking up.

“He has an entire closet full of decoy outfits. He had some wardrobe consultant put it together when he was in the boy band. He even has prosthetics,” Daisy elaborates.

“So why can’t Chase do something like that? He just seems to have given up on the idea of a regular life.”

Emma tilts her head. “Maybe we should do an intervention. Push him out into the world with a ball cap, wig, and shades.”

I laugh. “I just want to do something for him.”

Daisy smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You and Chase seem to be getting close.”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” I say, avoiding her concerned gaze.

“I can’t help it. I remember how heartbroken you were with Remington, and you didn’t even know him in real life.”

“Who’s Remington?” Emma asks, leaning forward.

“This guy who catfished Olivia.”

“He did not catfish me. You make it sound sordid. We were pen pals. You can’t be sordid when you meet through a typewriter.”

Daisy frowns. “Wait, what? What about a typewriter?”

“That’s how we met. I sold one of Nanna’s typewriters, a Remington, at the neighborhood antique shop. I included a note, and we started exchanging letters. We agreed to keep things anonymous, so I don’t know his real name, but I do know he lives in LA.”

“Fuck me,” Daisy whispers.

Someone clears their throat.

Our heads swing up.

Chase stands in the kitchen in a sleeveless tank and running shorts. His gaze lands on mine before it slides down to check out my outfit, the outfit he picked out. His eyes light up, and I can tell he approves. Warmth suffuses my body like melting caramel.

“Morning glory,” Emma drawls, waving with two hands. “Hello, earth to Chase.”

He tears his gaze from me. “Uh, morning.” He throws a brief smile to Daisy and Emma, then directs his gaze back to me. “Ready for our run?”

I groan. “Maybe?” My muscles may not be ready, but as I stare at the man before me, the rest of me is all in.