Page 48 of A Summer of Stars

“You look stunning,” he whispered.

I wasn’t sure if I inhaled or stopped breathing as a response. For all I knew, my heart had stopped working altogether and this was my body’s response to a temporary heart attack. He pulled away too quickly for me to unpack it, his hand the last to leave.

I stared at him in shock as he walked away, moving down the rest of the carpet with his hands in his pockets.

Whatwasthat?

Did our last conversation in my kitchen spark his interest in a competition called Who Can Make This Act More Interesting?

A small, very tiny, almost indiscernible, part of my brain was boiling with… desire.

The whisper of touches on my back and the curious stares by his blue eyes were confusing. I was navigating an extinct foreign language trying to admit it. Those arm-hair-raising instances were baffling and deceiving and tugged at a feeling deep in my stomach that I refused to acknowledge. And whatever that just was, it lit a fire in that very indiscernible part of my brain.

I pressed my eyes shut.

These were acts. Well-orchestrated dances that caught the light in the right way every spin.He doesn’t take your career seriously, he doesn’t believe anyone could love you, and he thinks you’re a snob, I reminded myself.

Stopping in front of me to whisper a secret in front of the entirety of London was an act. That was all.

But he could’ve said anything. And he chose to saythat?

My subconscious was drowning in a string of questions. They were filling up my skull like a ball of yarn. I cursed my father for reading so many romances.

If photographers weren’t breathing on me, I’d shove my fingers in my ears to rid them of the sensation of Kieran’s voice in my head.

You look stunning, you look stunning, you look stunning.

When I looked at him again, he had his arm around his love interest in the film. She had curly red hair and an emerald-colored dress. A pinch attacked my chest. She was beautiful. Fiery. And worst of all, he thought so too. He looked down at her in awe, no inkling of our moment in those blue eyes.

It was as if it had never happened.

“You and Kieran shouldn’t be seen more than ten feet away from each other for the rest of the night. Network, mingle, drink. But he should always be present in the corner of your eye. The hardest audience to convince is a group of actors,” Deidra reminded me as we walked into the venue, Cecilia and Kelsey by our side.

A bar lined a grand hallway before guiding us to a theater. People filled the space with their conversations and gowns. It wasn’t hard to pick Kieran out of the bunch—a blond head that attracted women the same way fruit attracted flies. Flies with really high heels.

Based on the rundown of the night Serena gave me this morning, they’d start the film soon. Two hours where I’d have to stare at Kieran’s face and try not to think about how the word “stunning” was spelled or looked or sounded coming from his mouth.

What made this whole thing even worse was that Ilovedthisbook. It took every fiber of my being not to walk up to the writer and tell her how much I loved it.

My father had it sitting on his bookshelf when I returned home after the divorce. I locked myself up in that house and refused to watch any live TV out of fear of seeing my or Jeremiah’s face. I foundSaving Septemberin the office after managing to ruin the microwave with an exploded bowl of oatmeal. It was a weak moment in my day. So I picked up the book and dismissed my romance ban. At midnight, under a dying lamp, I sobbed, turning the last page. I was convinced I’d never find a man as good as Theo Bennett and I’d die alone wanting nothing less.

Now Kieran was playing that role.

I walked to the bar and ordered a drink as a presence took up the space beside me.

“Ms. Aldridge,” he greeted me. My stomach flipped at the politeness of his voice. I looked up at the bartender, who was close enough to hear us.

“Mr. Alexander. How are you?” I asked.

Kieran glanced at the bartender before twisting and leaning toward me. I got a whiff of his cologne as his lips came close. It was like taking a sip of whisky.

“Sorry about earlier,” he apologized in a hushed tone.

Did I hear that right? I squinted, turning toward him to face him. “You didn’t try to catch me off guard on purpose?” I whispered.

“You think I would?”

“The look on your face made you look fairly determined.”