Page 21 of #Starstruck

Not wanting him to catch me eavesdropping, I returned to the living room. Which I suddenly realized was an absolute pigsty. It was one of those things where you get accustomed to a mess because you live with it all the time and it seems like no big deal, but when you realize how it must look to an outsider, you’re embarrassed.

“I hope you’re not doing that on my account.” Chase leaned against the living room wall, hands in his pockets, looking so utterly delicious that I froze. “I’ve already seen it.”

Yep, totally humiliating. I sank onto the couch and put down the basket of clean laundry I had planned on stowing in another room. I started folding it to give my hands something to do. “My mom’s got a lot on her plate. I try to help out when I can. She has this ongoing to-do list. Or as I call it, the Ta-Da List. Because it would be magic if we actually accomplished anything on it. But when you have this many small kids, it’s like continually cleaning up by yourself after a raging party you didn’t attend that happens every night. Which means my mother’s housekeeping style can best be described as ‘There appears to have been a struggle.’”

He let out another laugh as he took in his surroundings. He looked at all the pictures on the walls, the knickknacks, and the books on the shelves. He didn’t seem to notice I was nervously babbling. Or else he was polite enough not to comment on it.

“What about the giant ones?”

What the what? “Giant ones?”

He picked up one of the wooden toys my grandfather had carved for me when I was little. “Groups of giant squids. What are they called?”

“Oh, schools. Like fish. And a group of little kids is called a migraine.”

Chase laughed, that same real laugh, and I felt it in the lower part of my stomach. “I love that you know random stuff like that.”

“It’s Alex Trebek’s fault.”

He put the wooden horse on the shelf. “Why? Did he hold you down and force you to learn things?”

“I always wanted to meet him and be onJeopardy!. I used to read trivia books all the time.” It occurred to me that I hadn’t picked up a book like that in years.

His fingers drifted across my grandma’s old Bible. “The prayer was nice. My grandmother was religious.”

Not like mine. “I’ll see your religious grandmother and raise you an Amish one.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s a long story, though. I’ll have to tell you about it another time.” Because didn’t he need to leave? I needed him to leave. I was running out of clothes to fold. “I didn’t ask you before, but how did you know where my mother lives?”

“It was on those forms you filled out for One-F.” Right. I’d had to provide previous addresses and emergency contacts. He could have put two and two together. That seemed like a lot of effort, though. He must have really loved that tuxedo.

He found a photo album and held it aloft. “May I?”

“Sure, stalker.”

He grinned and settled onto the couch next to me. “Trust me, this is a new experience for me, too. Usually it’s the other way around.” He opened the album to the back page and saw a baby picture of Zia with her name on it. “Your parents seem pretty committed to this ‘Z’ thing.”

Parents? Another can of worms not worth opening just then. “My grandpa’s name was Zev, and my mom’s name is Zerah. She carried on the theme.”

He flipped a page. “I bet that gets confusing.”

“It does. You should hear her when she’s trying to yell at someone. She will run through every name except for the kid she’s mad at.”

I finished folding the laundry in the basket. Which made me all fidgety and not sure what to do with my hands. I figured I should probably run and get more, but I wondered if that would seem pathetic. I mean, I was sure he was super impressed with my glamorous lifestyle of staying in and doing laundry and watching small children. Would getting another load make it worse?

Chase perused the pictures, sometimes turning the album slightly to better see the photo. He had really nice hands. Long, tapered fingers. I thought of earlier when he’d held my hand during Zelda’s prayer. I’d really liked it.

But sitting in that silence, not sure what to do or say next, it suddenly dawned on me.

I was alone in my childhood home with Chase Covington.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I took the only escape I could think of. “Can I get you something to drink? We have water, milk, and possibly apple juice in boxes.”

“I’d love some water.”

---