Page 4 of Only Some Stars Fall

“Ha, come on, Ev. If you were at all worried you won’t attract any of the boys up here, there is no need.” She laughs as I slide on my platform sandals.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you’ll see.” She smirks.

Jumping back in the car,we arrive at Anderson’s Lodge and Cabins about two and a half minutes after leaving the house. The main lodge is an old three-story farmhouse painted a pale yellow with white trim. A large porch with the most rocking chairs I have ever seen wraps around the entire lodge. A handful of people (mostly old men) are sitting out, reading, tying fishing flies, and sipping cocktails. The wives present are reading or knitting baby blankets next to them.Yes, Alex, this place is overflowing with those bachelors you speak of,I think to myself as we follow the porch around the back to a large fire pit and a massive dock with multiple boats tied to it.

My previous thought is immediately proven wrong as I look around. On the other side of the lodge, a younger crowd has congregated. Men and women in their early thirties and forties on the dock, most in golf attire, laughing and telling animated stories with their friends while sipping cans of beer. A handful of guys and girls, apparently close to our age, based on the various university garb present, are playing cornhole on the nearby lawn. It’s easy to identify the locals and the out-of-staters, but they mingle together, clearly having been friends for years.

I finally see what Alex has been talking about; I catch the eye of a guy who looks like he just walked out of a J. Crew ad. He slightly lowers his sunglasses and flashes a beautiful white smile my way before suggestively throwing the cornhole sack into the opposite board’s hole. The butterflies attack my stomach so violently it almost knocks the wind out of me. I notice that most of the guys around our age have directed their attention to Alex and me. The phrase “fresh meat” comes to my mind.

Oh, wow, I really am in trouble.

I finally snap out of my deer-in-the-headlights trance and lean over to Alex to nonchalantly point out the brown-haired J.Crew hottie, but I’m mortified to find that Alex is nowhere to be seen. Seriously? She just left me standing here? My cheeks immediately turn crimson while the crowd of people my age probably notice me awkwardly searching for my best friend and the bar entrance.Cool, what a stellar first impression.I walk up the deck stairs, fully aware that all of them have still not resumed playing cornhole and are watching me.

“Glad I could bring the entertainment,” I mutter to myself as I try to collect my nerves and banish them from my body.

As I approach the bar entrance, I smell the faint traces of wood polish and can feel the rush of commotion. Inside, it’s aged like everything in this town but has a warm feeling with natural wood walls, big leather couches and chairs, low lighting, and a dozen or so tables. The walls are covered with resort photos and the history of the lake. I walk up to a picture of a handsome man with two young boys standing beside him, each holding a big bass. The caption under the photo reads: “Mike Anderson and sons Storm, age 10, and Hux, age 8.” Other photos show the history of Anderson’s Lodge and Cabins, I recognize Alex’s dad in one of them. He’s older with more gray in his hair, but his smile looks warm and relaxed, a stark difference from the reserved, pensive man who would come home in a suit and tie the nights I slept over. The photos label Mike as the fourth generation to own and run the family business.

I start to back away from the wall of photos, but my eyes return to the photo of Mike Anderson and his young sons. There is so much happiness and pride on their faces, for whatever reason, it brings a warm smile to my face. After another few moments of taking in the photos on the wall, I turn to resume my search for Alex and run straight into what feels like a brick wall. Yet the wall is falling, and I hear the smash of glass before Irealize it’s half a dozen wine bottles hitting the ground and shattering.

“Dammit! Ever heard of looking before backing up?” a gruff voice yells. The man leans down, gathering shards of glass with his bare hands. “Claire, can you grab me some towels?” he hollers to the girl behind the reception desk in the nearby lobby.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t even see you. Please, let me help.” I kneel down and attempt to pick up the glass. Wine soaks my sandals, making my feet stick to the floor.

The man looks up, revealing the most intense dark blue eyes I have ever seen. I notice a small scar above his left eyebrow. His hair is a sandy blond color, a bit overgrown but gently swept to the side. Though his eyes might be beautiful, they are definitely not kind. He holds his hands up in front of him.

“Please, just tell me your daddy’s room number. I’ll put these bottles on his tab, and we’ll call it even,” he says with disdain in his voice. He stands up and looks over his shoulder at the young guy coming his way. “Mop this up for me, would you, Tommy? I need to get back to the bar.”

“I…. I… I’m not staying… I’m just, with my…” I have no idea why my mouth won’t work. He stands in front of me, revealing he’s taller than I expected. A black shirt hugs his lean and noticeably strong torso. For a second, I picture the bare chest that is hiding behind that shirt.What is wrong with me today?This guy has zero interest in my story or attempts at an apology. He is looking straight over my head at the bar that is steadily filling with customers.

“Yeah, that’s great. Good talk, now can you please move along so we can get your mess cleaned up?” he says, still not actually looking at me.

Tommy comes up beside him to survey the damage. “Mr. Callaway is going to be pissed. Wasn’t that part of his order?” Tommy asks, snickering to himself. The hot jerk gives him astare that washes the smile right off his face. “Sorry, Hux. I’ll get to cleaning this up right now.”

Clearly still angry, he abruptly pushes past me to make his way behind the bar, never looking in my direction again. The name registers. Hux.

Hux Anderson, the owner’s son.

The son of my boss.

Well, I’d say I’m really off to a great start.

THREE

HUX

I waketo the familiar scratching on my bedpost. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I peer down at Birch, who is wagging his tail incessantly, a ball already in his mouth.Labradors, you could throw a ball all day, and they would never tire.

“Damn, bud, it’s not even six yet,” I say, looking at the clock on the nightstand as the dog rushes to the door of my small cabin. As I stand, I feel throbbing pain not only in my head but in my boxers as well. Thank God, Ashlee is back for the summer tomorrow, I don’t think my balls can handle much more. Over the years, our friendship has come with a lot of,ahem, benefits, and, man, does she have a body that can do some lascivious things to me. Only seeing each other during the summer months has given us the ability to keep up our no-strings-attached, zero-drama, summer situationship for years.

I open my cabin door and throw a flannel shirt on as I step onto the deck and look out over the lake. The water gently laps the pebbly beach, and a thin layer of steam rises. Lookingfarther down the shore, I can see a few of the guest cottages with smoke coming from their chimneys. I glance back at the thermometer next to the door: forty degrees. Most people complain about how cold it is this far north, even in the middle of the summer, the late evenings and early mornings can feel like fall.

Other than the chimneys, I see no sign of human life yet this morning. Thankfully, my cottage is pretty secluded from the guest cabins. I see enough of them already. I might actually fucking lose it if I had to put on a cheesy, shit-eating grin even when I’m off the clock.

Birch finishes relieving himself for the third time and follows me back inside to make breakfast. Last night had been long and exhausting. Now that the resort is finally full for the season, the restaurant and bar have been slammed almost every night. I shouldn’t complain, we need all the business we can get, but I also never thought I would be back working the fucking Anderson family bar at twenty-two years old.

Once I got my acceptance letter to NYU, I had never planned to come back. I know that makes me sound like a dick. I love my parents more than anything, but this was never the future I wanted. Taking over the family business was always Storm’s plan, not mine. But if the last few years have taught me anything, it’s that things can change in the blink of an eye.

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