Page 87 of A Summer of Stars

Mierda, mierda, mierda. I was torturing myself by even looking at her.

“Sorry, I…” My legs were already moving. I took strides across the carpet retracing my steps to the dock.

I remembered the first night I met her. New York City, three years ago. The rain in the city was so heavy then, drumming against the roof of every car pulling up to the event. I had stood in the rain waiting for Nari to arrive, hoping she was bringing an extra pair of shoes with her. Water had made its way into my socks within five minutes in the storm.

I combed my fingers through my wet hair as another car door swung open. A woman in a red dress stepped out in front of me. She immediately looked up and held my gaze. She stole all the air and light in the city.

I watched as a purse fell, landing in a massive puddle beside my foot. I tried to grab it before it collected enough water to fall apart. But as I handed it over, I realized whose it was: Luna Aldridge’s. I had seen her in passing at similar events. She always glowed, always smiled, giving glances away like people deserved them.

But I had never heard her voice or seen how her eyes widened with delight when she was surprised.

That night, she was wearing this simple red dress that huggedher hips and accentuated her long legs. Her hair was a dark river running down her back. When she took the purse from my hand, she smiled. Something about it felt genuine. It was hard to forget.

Right now felt a lot like that.

My hammering heart rang in my ears like a racing piano composition. I didn’t know what I was doing. The pounding in my chest came to an abrupt stop as I approached the boat and extended my hand. Her gaze followed my palm, up my arm, and to my face, realizing.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly.

“Hi.” I smiled.

She took my hand and let me pull her up. I held on to her elbow to keep her from wobbling in her heels as she steadied both feet on the ground.

“You wore a bow just like this years ago,” I said, tugging on the thin red bow that grouped strands of her hair together. She resembled a painting. She deserved to be painted. They’d use a red paint that cranberries bled.

“There are a lot of people here,” she commented.

“You just played tennis for two hours in front of fifteen thousand people andwon.” I searched her face, but there was no sign of humor.

“That was when I had something to distract me,” she explained.

“Well, it’s a good thing everyone here already thinks we’re dating.” I intertwined our fingers and guided her down the carpet.

“Luna Aldridge Joined Boyfriend Kieran Alexander Inside at Cannes”

—Confessions!

I COULD GEThigh on the look that painted Kieran’s face. There was this mysterious expression of flirtation mixed with anguish. His eyes were inviting me in, but his jaw was locked with tension as if he was holding back words. I’d try prying them open if it weren’t for my skin’s relentless need to vibrate with anticipation. It had been buzzing since the moment he told me to kiss him two days ago.

That…thathad done a number on the muscles in my legs.

I couldn’t shake the image of his face from my mind: strands of dark hair spilling over his forehead like streams of black fountain pen ink, and hypnotizing ocean eyes pulling me in as his chest pumped air in and out with unease.

Kiss me.

I needed to remember my objectives, not fall apart the moment he offered me his hand and touched my hair.

He twisted in front of me. God, he was so beautiful. The sun carved out the crevices in his cheekbones and the muscles in his abdomen, sinking between them.

You okay?he mouthed.

I’m okay. Please tell me he didn’t see me ogling his abs.

Then he stopped and leaned into my neck. I jolted.

“You should be photographed, so I’m going to back off. I’ll wait up there for you.” He stepped back so I could see his face. It was overwhelmingly close. How did things like this not affect him?

“Thank you,” I whispered.