Page 26 of Written in the Stars
Margot worried her lip. She wasn’t entirely sold, Elle could tell, but something was better than nothing.
Elle gave one last shrug. “It’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing, I guess? It’s like hiring an escort but better because it’s beneficial for the both of us and on the bright side, I don’t have to pay.”
“You getting some other perks out of this you failed to mention?” Margot waggled her brows.
Her face warmed. “I don’t think it’s like that.”
“Something else you might want to hammer out, yeah?” Margot’s smile flattened into something tense. “Just watch your back. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“It’s not like Darcy can hurt my feelings any worse than shealready has. I know she doesn’t like me, so what’s the worst that could happen?”
***
Elle shifted the bags from her left arm to the right and tried—subsequently failing—to smother her smile when Darcy opened the door, this time wearing a camel-colored pencil skirt that hugged her hips, and a polka-dotted pussy-bow blouse in off-white that Darcy would probably dub something fancy like eggshell or mascarpone. On anyone else it would’ve been veryblah, but the fall of Darcy’s copper hair over one shoulder and her curves made it less boring and more librarian chic. Never before had Elle met someone so pretty that it pissed her off.
Darcy shifted her weight from one foot to the other, hips cocking, emphasizing the crescent curve of her waist. She side-eyed the bags looped over Elle’s arm, looking equal parts intrigued and distrustful. “Hello.”
Elle lifted the bags. “I come bearing libations and craft supplies.”
Darcy’s brows rocketed to her hairline. “Craft supplies?”
Sliding past Darcy into the apartment, Elle bit back a grin. Score one for her for managing to knock Darcy off-kilter. “Mm-hmm. I figured we could hammer out the details of this arrangement and share some facts about ourselves.”
Elle set the bags on the floor beside the coffee table. From the first bag she withdrew two notebooks, one black and the other white, and a twelve pack of gel pens. “Facts we can writedown in these handy notebooks. I brought gel pens in case you want to color code anything. Because if there’s one thing you should know about me—okay, there are a lot of things you should know about me. But right now, it’s important to know I don’t have much Virgo in my chart. I mean, there’s Jupiter and it’s retrograde and my seventh house is in Virgo, but that’s a whole other story.” And too much to unpack in one night. “However, I aspire to Virgo-level detail orientation and I do it through color-coordinated crafts. Got it?”
That was an ultrasimplification, but it was doubtful Darcy wanted details. Elle believed in astrology, believed the cosmos controlled more than met the eye andthatwas what Darcy needed to know if this was going to work, if this fake relationship of theirs would ever fool a single soul. She needed to know it, and inside it might make her roll her eyes and despair at howsillyElle was, but outwardly Darcy needed to not scoff at it. Even if this entire charade was pretend, Darcy needed to respect Elle’s beliefs. RespectElle, or no dice.
Elle held her breath as Darcy frowned thoughtfully. “Okay, got it. May I ask a question?”
“Absolutely.” Elle gestured for Darcy to go on. “There’s no such thing as a stupid question. There’s a definite learning curve to this.”
Darcy nodded. “All right. If your Jupiter is... in Virgo?” Elle nodded. “Where’s your Uranus?”
“My Uranus is in Capri—” Elle froze. “Wow.”
Darcy’s dimples deepened as she smiled impishly. “Sorry, it was justright there. You probably get that a lot.”
“From frat boys and five-year-olds, not...” She trailed off,gesturing up and down in Darcy’s general direction with her free hand. “People like you.”
“People like me?” Darcy’s brows rose and fell. “Like me how?”
People who drank fifty-six-dollar glasses of wine and wore tight little pencil skirts and Christian Louboutin heels and worked as actuaries. Insufferable know-it-alls with cunning sensibilities and kissable little moon-shaped freckles. People with eyes like burnt caramel and full lips that looked candy-apple sweet. People who... who...
Elle waved the notebooks in the air. “I don’t know. Which is why I’m here. I figured, we’d drink a little wine, play twenty questions, jot down our notes, and get to know each other a little. Make this charade a little more believable, if not truthful. Or close enough to assuage my conscience.”
Darcy did that thing where she stared, brown eyes studying Elle from across the living room. It was only a look and yet it made Elle feel weirdly naked.
“If you think it’s silly, we can—”
“No.” Darcy shook her head and stepped closer, nudging the remaining bag with a stocking-covered toe.Stockings.Fuck. Elle sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. Pantyhose were the bane of her existence—if she so much as tried to put on a pair, she’d immediately get a run—but on Darcy... Elle tore her eyes away and feigned interest in ripping open the cardboard pen packaging. Darcy went on, “It’s not silly. No doubt Brendon will dig for details. It’s important for us to be on the same page. Good idea.”
Good idea. Between the hot librarian getup, complete with pantyhose, and the kernel of praise, Elle had a flashback towhen her pretty fifth-grade teacher put gold stars on all her best work.
“You mentioned wine?” Darcy prodded when Elle remained mute, silenced by the awkward fantasy playing out inside her head. A fantasy replete withbow chicka wow wowseventies porn music and slo-mo swishing hair.
“Wine! Yes, wine.” Crouching on her knees, Elle set the notebooks aside so she could grab the— “Ta da! Wine.”
Nose wrinkled and lips parted in revulsion, Darcy looked at the box of Franzia rosé in Elle’s hands like it was a personal affront. “What the fuck is that?”
