Page 66 of The Heartbreakers
“Well…” I started to say. Of course I didn’t want Cara to be affected by anything that happened between Oliver and me, but was he talking about having a secret relationship? “I guess?”
“Good,” he said and nodded his head. “It’s none of their damn business who I date.”
I wanted to talk about it more, because the thought of dating Oliver in secret somehow didn’t sit right with me, but his jaw was set and there was a blazing look in his eyes. It wasn’t demanding, like he wanted me to accept his decision without question, but one of fierce protectiveness, like he didn’t want to let me go and nobody, not even the media, was going to stop him. I suppose some girls might have found that romantic, but it only made me worry. What had happened to Oliver that had made him this way, so possessive and distrustful?
The concern must have been clear on my face, because Oliver unclenched his jaw, smiled, and said in a light voice, “I never finished telling you about the sonnets.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
“AstrophilandStella,” he said, taking my hand. “The name ‘Astrophil’ is derived from two Greek words that, when combined, mean ‘star-lover.’”
“So what does that mean?”
Oliver tilted his head and looked back up at the sky. “That Stella is the star of his love.”
Chapter 18
Oliver and I went on our first official date later that week. Of course, he failed to mention we were going on a date until two hours beforehand.
“Special delivery from the Love Doctor,” JJ said, and plopped down right on top of the desk where I was working. Okay, so I wasn’t actually working. I was reading through the mass of comments I received on my latest blog post, but his intrusion was annoying nonetheless.
“Hey,” I complained, craning my neck to see the computer screen. “You’re in my way.”
“But I have a present for you,” JJ said, waving a folded up piece of paper in front of my face.
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t think I want any presents from theLoveDoctor.”
JJ scoffed. “It’s not from me. It’s from yourlover.”
“He’s not my lover, you perv,” I said as my face heated up. “And who says lover anymore? That’s creepy.”
I had yet to officially tell the rest of the band about my relationship with Oliver, not because it was a secret—I doubted that Oliver would care if I told his closest friends—but because it was safe to assume they’d already gathered as much.
“Ah,” JJ said, wagging a finger at me, “but you knew exactly who I was talking about, didn’t you?”
“Just give it to me.” I snatched the paper from him and unfolded it.
Stella,
6 p.m. at 137 North Higgins Street. Dress nice.
—Oliver
“What’s this?” I asked after reading the message.
“Instructions from Oliver,” he said. “Duh.”
“I got that. What are they for?”
Although it registered in the back of my mind that Oliver was probably taking me on a date, I was too caught up in all the little details to freak out. It was already four o’clock, which barely left me any time to get ready, and on top of that, I didn’t know what to wear.
He shrugged. “Just the delivery boy, Stella, but if I had to guess, I’d say it has something to do with what I caught you two doing on my roof last weekend.”
I ignored his jab and scanned the note again. “But what do you think he means by ‘dress nice’? Are we going somewhere fancy?”
JJ raised an eyebrow as he looked me over. “It probably means that you should shower and change out of those sweats.”
“Thanks,” I said, pushing my bangs out of my face. As if I needed him to tell me I looked greasy. “What I meant was how nice? Semiformal? Formal? He didn’t give me any specifics here. What if I show up too fancy?” Worse, what if I was underdressed?
