Page 25 of #Starstruck

Instead, I answered immediately. “Hey.”

“Hey. Sorry about leaving that tux last night. But somebody was shoving me out a window.”

“I did not shove. I forcefully encouraged.” His phone sounded crackly. “Where are you?”

“I’m running in Runyon Canyon. Want to join me?”

Running? That probably meant he was shirtless, right? And that his muscles flexed as he ran, and the sweat probably made his chest glisten in the sun ... I told my mind to knock it off.

Shoving my laptop into my book bag, I switched my phone from my left ear to my right. “No, thanks. I’m allergic to running.”

“What?”

“Last time I ran, my skin was all flushed, my heart raced, I got sweaty and short of breath. I looked my symptoms up online, and the Internet diagnosed them as an allergic reaction.”

“If that’s true, then I’m allergic to a lot of very fun, enjoyable things.”

Did he ever not flirt? I was glad he couldn’t see how much he made me blush.

“So anyway, about your tuxedo ...”

“Right! I’m having some people over for a business lunch today, but we should be done about one thirty. Would you mind bringing it by then?”

My last class would be done at noon, giving me plenty of time to eat and then drive his tux over. “I can do that.”

“Do you have my address?”

I remembered he lived in the Hollywood Hills and that One-F had e-mailed me Chase’s address and security codes. “Yep. One-F is very thorough.”

“Just let yourself in when you get there. See you soon.”

I made myself some toast and headed off to campus. As I walked along the busy main street toward the crosswalk, I wondered whether the tuxedo thing had been deliberate. Like a girl who left her scarf in a guy’s apartment so he’d have to call her again.

But in Chase’s defense, and as he’d pointed out, I was the one who had all but shoved him out a window.

This one was probably on me.

Gorgeouswouldn’t do the Hollywood Hills justice. There were tall, leafy trees (not the palm trees I was used to) and well-manicured greenery everywhere I looked—and beautiful mansions built on ledges of hills. I wondered which one was Chase’s.

When I got to his neighborhood, a line of cars was waiting. I saw a gate and a guard. One-F hadn’t mentioned that. The Porsches, Ferraris, and Bentleys in front of me were waved through, but the guard stopped me in my ancient Honda Civic.

“May I have your name, miss?” If someone asked you to imagine a security guard, you’d probably think of some old grizzled man or a middle-aged guy with a huge gut. But this very in-shape good-looking man bore a striking resemblance to Chris Pratt.

Then again, Chase was so rich that for all I knew the guard actually was Chris Pratt. “Name, please?”

“Zoe Miller.”

He did something on his tablet and then asked, “May I see your ID?”

My stomach twisted. I had a bad feeling for some reason. Memories of my poli-sci professor, a former ACLU lawyer, turning red in the face as he screamed that we weren’t required to turn over our identification to anyone flitted through my head, and I wondered what the guard would do if I said no. He’d probably call Chase down to his phone-booth office, which would be embarrassing. I was supposed to be assisting Chase, not making his life harder. I reluctantly gave my driver’s license to Parallel Universe Chris Pratt.

He input some information and then handed it back to me. “Thank you, Miss Miller. Do you know how to get to Mr.Covington’s house?”

One-F must have put me on a list. “I have directions on my phone. Thanks.” I considered telling him how much I loved him inGuardians of the Galaxybut decided against it.

The guard pushed a button, and the wrought-iron gate slowly retracted. As I drove past, the neighborhood around me got even more beautiful. Lush, emerald-green, perfectly manicured lawns were visible between hedges and trees, as were flowers in every color. I saw fountains and mini waterfalls and caught glimpses of massive white mansions.

I definitely wasn’t in Kansas anymore. I mean, I loved my quaint beach town, but this was like another universe.

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