Page 76 of If the Stars Align
“Fantastic. Let’s look at our calendars.” She’s beaming as she opens the app on her cell phone. “I’m leaving for Tokyo tomorrow, but I’ll be back the following week. How about you?”
I check my phone. “I’m in New York that week. How about the following Friday?”
She smiles. “It’s a date.”
After we exchange numbers, she tells me she has to head home to pack for her trip to Japan.
But before she gets up to leave, she leans in and plants her ruby lips on me.
Three weeks later, Ava and I meet for dinner in the private room of a Michelin-starred sushi spot. We havea lotof sake and very little food. The chef prepares us a special low-carb meal, per Ava’s request. I’m getting used to eating this way, but I still fucking hate it. It’s also a lot harder to stick to this diet when I drink. I’m always tempted to order a pizza as soon as I get through my front door—something to soak up the alcohol.
But I doubt I’ll be going back to my place tonight.
Ava Elwood wants me. She’s been explicit about that since her first cup of sake.
And I have to admit, I’m having a good time with her. She’s a lot smarter than people give her credit for. If she hadn’t been discovered at a mall in her hometown of Lincoln, Nebraska when she was fifteen, she would have liked to be a doctor. Her parents only allowed her to start modeling if she agreed to finish high school and apply to college. She actually got into Princeton, but deferred admission because her career was heating up. Once she was offered a modeling contract with one of the top agencies in the world, she never looked back. Now she uses her smarts to parlay her fame into successful business ventures, like her fashion and cosmetics lines.
After dinner, she takes me home with her. Before I know it, she’s lying on her bed naked, her fire-red hair splayed across her white silk pillowcase, like flames. I’m about to grab a condom from my wallet when she stops me.
“We can’t use condoms,” she says breathlessly. “I’m allergic to latex.”
“Oh.”
“But I’m on birth control,” she adds, reaching into her nightstand. She pulls out a pack of pills to show me. “See? Today’s Friday, and I took my pill this morning. Inevermiss a day. If I get pregnant right now, it’ll kill my career.”
I hesitate.
There’s only one woman I’ve nevernotused condoms with. My heart aches thinking about how different it was with her. How right it felt being intertwined with her, like two puzzle pieces clicking together.
How meaningful it was. Not just a random physical act, but two hearts melding.
God, I’m a sap.
But I really fucking miss Sunny.
“Dex?”
Dammit. I haven’t answered Ava yet.
“I’m sorry about this,” she continues. “I know it’s not ideal. But I got tested a few days ago, and everything came back negative. I have the results on my phone, so I can show you?—”
“No, it’s fine,” I assure her with a smile. “But I should get tested too. Let’s wait a few days.”
Ava groans and covers her face with her palms, but I can stillsee her crimson lips, and she’s smiling. “Okay, I’ll be patient. I’ve been waiting for this moment since you were on the cover ofSoap Opera Digest, so what’s another few days?” She puts her arms around my neck and kisses me, then whispers, “I just want you so much.”
“Well maybe there’s something I can do about that,” I say. Then I shift down the bed and start kissing her inner thighs.
Two months later, it’s Ava’s thirtieth birthday, and she invites me to Saint-Tropez for a long weekend to celebrate, just the two of us. It’s still early, but I’ve decided to give this relationship a shot. Ava’s bright and motivated. Beautiful, obviously. Maybe, with time, I could develop feelings for her. I know I’ll never love anyone the way I love Sunny. But Ava and I might be a good match.
We have similar lifestyles, anyway. That’s something.
Saint-Tropez is fun, and relaxing, and a welcome change from LA. But on our second day there, the paps catch us kissing on the balcony of our hotel suite. Ava’s topless, her back turned to the camera. I’m wearing a towel around my waist, my arms wrapped around her. The press has a fucking field day. There’ve been rumors swirling about us for weeks, and now the world has the proof it’s been waiting for. The pictures are everywhere. The news articles are salacious, with headlines like: “Ava and Dex have Steamy Sex in Saint-Tropez.” They’ve branded us the world’s sexiest couple. I can’t help wondering what Sunny thinks about all this. Or if she even cares.
Ava, on the other hand, is thrilled. She’s been feeling uneasy about what turning thirty means for her modeling career but, according to her, sleeping with a man who’s four years younger is confirmation she’s “still fuckable.”
When we get back from our trip, she asks me to come home with her. She’s leaving for New York in a few days and wants to spend as much time together as possible. We’re both exhausted from the long flight and, after a quick shower, we crash on her bed. But in the middle of the night, she wakes me.
“Dex—something’s wrong,” she says.
