Page 18 of Holiday Star
I pinch the bridge of my nose and try again to voice my concerns. “I’m just not sure there’s room for both of us. It is mymom’shouse.”
He bristles, looking up. “It’s myuncle’shouse, too.” His hand comes up to run through his hair, tousling it and making it stick up all spiky.
We glare at each other, in a standoff, while I resist the urge to punch him.
It’s Pip who breaks the tension. She ambles downstairs, taking each step slowly. She’s my dad’s dog, old now with white fur on her muzzle and her eyes cloudy. It hurts my heart to see the effects of time on her sweet face. When she wanders into the living room, she comes right over and greets us. Pip jumps up on the couch next to Caleb and gently sniffs his elbow, never quite touching her cold, wet nose to his skin.
Caleb reacts like a fire-breathing dragon had landed next to him. His eyes widen and nostrils flare. He scrambles backward on the couch away from her.
I call Pip over to me. She comes, tail wagging. I hoist her into my lap and let her lick my hand.
Caleb’s lip curls, disgusted.
Guess he’s not a dog person. Should’ve known. I’ve never trusted someone who doesn’t like animals.
We ignore each other for the rest of the afternoon, with me working on my research at the kitchen table and Caleb reading on the couch. I assume he gives no more thought to our predicament. Probably he thinks that because he’s famous he has a right to stay wherever he wants.
The pompous jerk.
By evening, my brain is fried. Tired of struggling through the complex statistics of my data, I set it aside and turn to the puzzle, focusing all my attention on it.
A hand enters my peripheral vision, making me jump. Caleb is leaning over my shoulder. He snaps a part of the puzzle into place. “There,” he says with satisfaction, “the jellyfish is done.”
He places a heavy hand on my shoulder, making it tingle, as he leans in farther to peer at my stack of research papers. “Yikes. That looks super-complicated.” He inhales and then gives a sharp exhale, his breath stirring the hair on top of my head.
Then he’s gone, moving into the kitchen. “I’m making a turkey sandwich for dinner. Want one?” He bends over, looking inside the refrigerator.
I try to ignore how fine his butt looks in that position.
It’s not easy.
“Okay,” I accept begrudgingly, wishing I could give him the silent treatment, but I’m not a good cook and a free meal iswaytoo tempting.
He’s in the kitchen for a long time, opening drawers and banging pots around. The sandwich he brings me looks gourmet, with soft white bread and thick-sliced tomatoes and lettuce peeking out of the sides.
My eyes close with the first taste. I bite back a moan. “Caleb, this is delicious.” I lift the corner of the bread and peer inside. “What’s this amazing sauce you put on it?”
“I made some garlic aioli. All the ingredients were in the fridge.”
“From scratch? Where’d you learn to do that?” A sip of water washes down my next mouthful.
He shrugs, chewing his own sandwich slowly. After he swallows, he says, “There’s a lot of downtime when you’re shooting a movie. It takes a while for them to prepare for the upcoming scene or review the footage. During that time, I would hang out with the on-set caterers. I’d watch over their shoulders, get under foot. Eventually, they got used to me and showed me some tricks.”
His eyes dip away from me, somewhat bashful. “I’m pretty good at it. Cooking.”
Out of nowhere, he surprises me. “Don’t worry. I won’t be a total freeloader. If you grocery shop, I’ll feed you. That’s how I’ll pay you for letting me be here.”
So hewasthinking about it.
I pause. There’s something vulnerable about his offer. It’s in the way he says it. Like he’s trying to prove his worth to me. I understand that feeling. I recognize it. Because I feel that way too. All the time. Trying to prove that I’m good enough. Thinking that if I try hard enough, people will let me stay, that they won’t keep leaving me.
Before I know it, I’m nodding my head, agreeing to this crazy plan. That’s how I end up living with Caleb Freaking Lawson.
9
What’s he doing now?
Jenny’s been texting me this question every hour on the hour. There’s nothing new to report.It’s been two days, and Caleb’s spent most of the time on the couch. He gets up to eat and lays down to sleep, but that’s about it.
