Page 18 of Starrily
Jessica and Calliope headed to the building, and Simon wandered off to the fence, welcoming the bursts of wind. Anything to take his mind off the memory—even if it was observing Calliope, posing as awkwardly as a wooden doll while Jessica gave her instructions. He wondered how the pictures would turn out, with Calliope being rather pretty, but clearly not having a posing bone in her body—
Hold up.Pretty? No, no, he wasn’t going there. Add it to the list of things he should keep firmly locked away.
Two women in jogging pants walked by. Desperate for a distraction, Simon did a basic greeting nod, and one of them stopped and looked at him for a split moment before looking back to her friend, then at Simon again.
“Say, are you that tech guy? Simon Montague?” she asked.
Simon raised his hands to the level of his shoulders. “Guilty as charged.”
“Oh, my god.” She smoothed out her ponytail. “I never thought I’d see you just … walking around.”
“My usual carrier’s on a break.” Where was Stan, anyway? He was supposed to be all bodyguard-like. Not that Simon minded having a moment for himself, especially if it included a pretty stranger.
The woman giggled and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Sorry. I can’t believe I’m talking to you! You’re so …” She eyed him up and down. “Tall. I mean, taller. In person. Mr. Montague.”
“Please, call me Simon.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Technically, you already did.”
She laughed, and Simon smiled. Nice that someone appreciated his humor for once.
“Uhm … I’m done.” Calliope approached, hugging her middle.
Ponytail Girl shuffled to the side, looking from Callie to Simon. “Oh. I—I guess I have to go.”
“Wai—” Simon started, but she’d already joined her friend, and they continued jogging. “You think next time, you could wait a minute?” he asked Calliope.
“I just had to spend fifteen minutes pretending I’m inAmerica’s Next Top Model.”
“I’m surprised you know what that is.”
“I know I don’t want to be in it.” She sighed. “Maybe Jessica can find a model and use her instead. People don’t need to know what I look like. I’d be perfectly fine with taking someone’s face.”
Like I did.
“I need to take a walk,” Calliope grumbled, fixed her scarf—she was wearing the blue one with stars and planets again—and headed toward the park.
He had no idea why he followed her, especially since he was still mildly annoyed with her crashing his flirting party, but thealternative was to stay here with his thoughts, and that was worse.
They walked down a path, gravel crunching under their feet, when Simon heard running and panting from behind. He turned just in time to not get knocked down by an overly-excited golden retriever, booking it straight for him.
“Whoa, boy.” Simon caught the dog’s front paws as he jumped up. There was no threat from the big fur ball; based on his wagging tail and wide smile, he only wanted to play.
Simon got the dog back on the ground and scratched him behind his ears. “Who’s a good boy, huh?”
“You shouldn’t pet strange dogs.” Calliope’s tone was as stern as a parent’s.
“But he’s not a strange dog, are you buddy? Of course, you’re not.” Simon grabbed a nearby stick and threw it; the dog shot after it like a rocket.
“Hmph,” Calliope commented, sounding remarkably like Stan.
“Relax. He only wants to play.”
The dog returned, carrying the twig—but ran to Calliope instead.
Simon put a hand over his heart. “Betrayed so soon.”
