Page 68 of #Starstruck

He talked more about the movie and waved off rumors about him and Amelia by saying, “We’re just friends. She’s a talented actress I admire and respect, but there’s nothing else going on.” Then they went to commercial, ending Chase’s segment. Lexi clicked off the TV.

“I’ve got to get ready for my improv class,” she said, standing up. “Come talk to me while I do. Tell me how things with you and Noah are going. I feel like I hardly see you anymore. Which means things must be going good.”

I was so distracted by Chase’s announcement that he didn’t have a girlfriend that it took me a second to remember she wasn’t actually talking about Noah from work. “Things are good.” This morning notwithstanding. I stopped by our room to grab my cell phone. Somebody had some explaining to do.

Lexi headed for the bathroom, and I saw her plug in her flat iron. “And have you had the talk?”

“Birds and bees?” I asked, sitting on the side of the bathtub and turning on my phone. “Had it when I was twelve.”

“I meant the talk where you define the relationship. You mentioned he’s commitment shy. Is that still the situation?”

The guy who just announced on national television that I wasn’t his girlfriend? “The only thing he’s committed to right now are his commitment issues,” I muttered, opening my messaging app. I texted Chase.

She grabbed a lock of her hair and clamped the iron around it. “He must be serious about you.”

“Right now I feel like I’m in this alone. Like his feelings aren’t as strong as mine.”

Lexi met my eyes in the mirror. “Zoe, don’t. Don’t go there.”

Problem was, I already lived there. It wasn’t like it was a long commute. “We’re in this, like, bubble situation. Everything’s good when we’re together, but we don’t really discuss the future or where things are going.”

“Things can’t stay that way forever,” she said and put down her iron to turn and face me. “Like on that shark show you made me watch. You have to keep moving forward or you die.”

My phone buzzed with Chase’s response.

I knew that, because One-F always copied me on Chase’s schedule. I still felt frustrated, though. I had just seen him kiss someone else and deny my existence. I felt vulnerable and needy and insecure, and I didn’t like it, and it ended up making me upset. I mumbled something to Lexi about needing to get dressed.

And once I was dressed, I decided to bake something, as that was the only thing that could calm me down when I was mad. The more time passed, the more pissed off I got.

Lexi left but not before giving me a hug and saying it would all work out. I made chocolate-chip cookies and root beer–float cookies and snickerdoodles. I was too angry to even eat them.

By the time my phone rang, I was like a volcano, ready to erupt.

“Hey, babe. What’s up?”

“What’s up?” I repeated, seething. “What’s up? Why would you even care? I don’t mean anything to you!”

There was a long pause. “I don’t know what’s happening right now.”

“I saw you this morning. Telling Helen you don’t have anybody you care about. No girlfriend. No one special. Did you stop and think how that would make me feel?”

“Hang on.” There were some muffled sounds like wind, and then I heard a car door slam. “Did it ever occur to you that I was protecting you? The second I give the press any hint that I’m dating someone, your private life is over. They will find out everything. They will camp out at your apartment and go through your trash. They’ll bribe anyone who might possibly know you into telling them stories. They will follow you everywhere you go. Do you think I want that to happen to you? It’s bad enough it happens to me. Do you really think I want it to happen to someone that I ...” His voice trailed off, and he let out a huge sigh.

That took some of the righteous indignation out of my sails, but I was still upset and still wanted to fight.

“Even if that was your reason, I had to watch you kissing that Amelia Swan.”

“What? When?”

“On that clip today!” I said, stirring snickerdoodle dough harder than I needed to. “From your movie!”

“Are you serious?” Now he sounded mad, which for some reason I found satisfying. “I didn’t kiss Amelia. Hank kissed Lorraine. The character I was pretending to be kissed the character she was pretending to be.”

“Yeah, but he did it with your lips.”

“I can’t even tell you how unsexy those scenes actually are. They’re so technical. It’s all choreographed beforehand, done over and over again, and there are thirty people watching you do it. I wish I could explain it better, but what it comes down to is this is my job.”

While I logically understood his argument and knew it was his profession, how many other women had boyfriends with jobs that required them to kiss and have pretend love scenes with beautiful actresses?

---