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Star-Crossed Letters (Falling for Famous #1)(81)

Author:Sarah Deeham

“I’m embarrassed,” I mumble. “I just wanted to keep up. I’m ridiculously out of shape.”

His gaze drags up and down my body. It leaves a path of warm tingling.

“You look good to me.”

I gulp back a laugh and kick out one leg, wincing as I do because…running. “These legs are pasty and have no muscle tone.”

His eyes are hot on me. He grazes my thigh with his finger, burning a path where he touches. “Your legs are smooth—pale, not pasty—and the perfect, curvy shape. I’m glad you want to get more exercise because it’s healthy and good for you. But your body couldn’t be more perfect, Olivia.”

I clear my throat. Our faces are close. His hand falls away from my leg, and he takes a tight breath before stepping away. I blink at the loss of him.

“Ready to go back?” he asks smoothly.

His words chill me.

“Run back?” I whimper.

He throws his head back and laughs. “You should see your face right now. You look horrified. No, we can walk. You’ve done a mile, which is great.”

“One mile? Are you sure? It felt like at least five.”

He grins. “Positive. But that’s awesome for your first time. You should be proud of yourself. We’ll go a little farther each day.”

I ignore his assumption that we’ll do this again. That’s insanity. But now that I can breathe again, I am beginning to appreciate my accomplishment. I’m also supremely grateful that I don’t have to run anymore today.

We walk in silence for a while. The neighborhood feels like an oasis. The houses are mansions, but they are older, with lush gardens.

A patch of wild flowers grows beneath a large shade tree at the edge of one property.

Chase leans down and picks a few daisies. He places two in my hands and turns me to face him, gently sliding one behind my ear.

“Thank you,” I say. “Daisies are my favorite flowers.” My eyes sting at the unexpected sweetness of the gesture.

“I know,” he says. “I-I mean, I’m not surprised.”

We keep walking while I twirl the pretty but unassuming flower. “Nanna believed that the secret to happiness is appreciating the mundane pleasures of life, like picking wild flowers or reading in a park on a sunny day.” I tilt my head to him, a quizzical smile on my face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I used to read in the park all the time whenever I ran away from my foster homes, because I had nowhere else to go. Sometimes it’s funny to think that in a lot of ways, I had more freedom back then.”

“But when you’re in a new city, don’t you explore? You know, sight-see?”

“Not really. If I’m there for an event or to make a movie, it’s big news. My hotel is usually surrounded. It’s amazing, really, how little you ever have to interact with the real world when you’re famous.”

“Are you happy living this way?” I suspect he’s not. Just like when I watched the video of him surrounded by paparazzi, I feel sad for him. For all his wealth and success, he’s more trapped by circumstances than I am.

He shrugs. “It’s just the way it is. Most people have far bigger problems than mine.”

“But maybe you can do those things, regular things,” I urge.

“I can, if I don’t mind ending up on TMZ.”

“But things have changed now, Chase. You’re not new to this anymore.”

“Life is about trade-offs. I’m rich enough that I never have to worry about money again, and I have a job I enjoy. I’d have to be a real asshole to complain about velvet ropes in clubs and parties in Cannes.”

“True,” I say. “I guess most people would prefer A-list parties and international holidays over reading in the park.”

“But you wouldn’t like that life?” he asks, his eyes sharp on me in a way that feels raw. “The jet-setting, the parties?”

I bite my lip, thinking about his question. “I wouldn’t mind traveling. But I’m happier reading a book in front of the fire than partying all night. I’d be completely useless as an A-lister.”

Our eyes connect. “And what if I say that your kind of day sounds better to me than mine?”

“I’d say it means you have discerning taste.”

He laughs, his expression lightening. “Come on, slowpoke. We’re not far from the house. We can run the rest of the way,” he teases.

“Noooo,” I say. “You go. I’ll just lie down in that soft-looking patch of grass.”

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