Page 81 of A Summer of Stars

“Hi,” I exhaled, opening the door.

His response was delayed. “Hi.” I tried not to explore where his shirt was partially unbuttoned. “You look… nice,” he said.

“Thank you. You also look nice.” I nodded. “We should go,” I urged, trying to fill in our awkwardness.

I kneaded my palms, searching for a topic, as we left the hotel and walked under the shop lights and awnings. Store windows, trees, and even the cobblestone sparkled. But then he relaxed his hand, offering his open palm at his side.

“Oh, yes, yeah.” I separated my hands and let them fall. His thumb brushed my palm with hesitation, before his hand engulfed it, his fingers nestling between each of mine.

“You okay?” There was a dip in his usual deep voice.

“Of course.” I smiled to prove it.

He hummed. And then, “You don’t have to lie. You’re allowed to not be happy all the time. I assume you wouldn’t judge me if I wasn’t?”

“Of course I wouldn’t.” I realized there was no point in lying. “I could be doing better.” He waited. “What?”

“That’s all?” he asked, not convinced.

I rolled my eyes. It was easier to forget about our entwined hands when he was being irritating. “It’s more like a mountain of things that are on the verge of tumbling down and flattening me out.” Like it was right now, with the thought of Jeremiah ruining this entire season and stunt for me.

His index finger left my knuckle to poke my hip. “Don’t hold back on me, Aldridge.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. Jeremiah cornering me on the court choked me. “Just a lot of ex drama.”

His gaze lingered. The emotion in my throat wasn’t disguised well. But he didn’t probe about my divorce, only asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

He nodded, understanding.

“Do I look that stressed, or do you just know me better than I thought?” I asked, trying to laugh, but his response yielded the opposite.

“I’d like to think the latter.” My mouth was dry. “I think anyone would’ve noticed you were acting weird, though,” he said, changing the tone.

“Acting weird? How?” I argued.

“You’re stiff as a board, and more than usual. Come on, Aldridge, loosen up, we’re in Paris! Isn’t that what you said?” He laughed, looking at me with a devilish grin.

“You ass,you heard that?”

“You screamed it from youropen balcony.”

“Even from my own hotel room I’m embarrassing myself.” I shook my head, laughing. “All of these articles are making me go insane. Like end credits on a nonstop loop running through my head.”

He nodded, understanding. “I know a place that’ll help,” he said, determined. It sounded genuine. Maybe even romantic.

It was unfortunate that there was absolutely nothing he could do to unknot the nerve endings running up and down my body, though. Not with those rumors floating around and the pictures of Jeremiah and me together. Kieran’s thumb rubbing the insideof my wristwas nothelping either. The coffee-like jitter in my spine was incurable at this point.

But he tugged on my hand, and an electric buzz zapped my arm, my argument lost on my tongue. I let him guide me into what looked like a jazz club.

The heat of the room consumed us immediately. Music sounded from the back, where older gentlemen played shiny instruments under low, romantic light. Red brick built every wall, and antique pictures and newspaper cut-outs crawled the space. The crowd, who looked a few decades older than us, sat happily at small tables, listening to the slow melodies.

“Here.” I turned, and Kieran was pulling out a seat from a small table.

“Oh. Thank you,” I said, sitting down, trying not to pay attention to how his fingers grazed my back, pushing the seat in. “Very gentlemanly of you. How odd.”

He rolled his eyes. But I saw that smirk. He was enjoying himself. “I don’t know if you deserve it now, but do you want a drink?”