Page 89 of A Summer of Stars

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It’s hot.”

“How so?”

I stared at the screen. “You’re both just so enthralled with eachother. From the placement of your hands to the way you’re looking at him and you’re both shirtless and—” I pulled my eyes from the screen and found him holding back a smile.

“No please, keep going.”

I smacked his arm. “I’m sure you have enough women filling your head with compliments.”

“I don’t find myself thinking about other women very often,” he whispered.

The cloak of darkness swallowing the room couldn’t have felt lighter then. I felt naked. His eyes traced my face for a response, but I was empty of one. Or at least one that was clever, so I pivoted.

“Just Jonathan?” I gestured to the screen.

He instantly pressed his lips together to suppress laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, as much as I love Jonathan, I’m not sure his husband would be happy about that.”

“Must be hard being so handsome.”

“I wouldn’t say I’mthathandsome, but—”

“I was still talking about Jonathan.”

“Aren’t you just hilarious. Do you get off on making fun of me?”

“You have no idea.”

He nodded. “Good to know the feeling’s mutual.”

Oh. Yup, there was that image of him rolling his hips in my mind again.

“Can I see that pen?” he asked. I handed it over without question. Before I could realize what he was doing, the credits were rolling.

We had talked through the end of the film.

The theater stood with applause. I clapped with them, watching Kieran try to maintain a content expression. Then his hand was against mine. I accepted the Uno card.

Flipping it over, he had written:Hotel Lobby, 8 PM Tonight.

“Luna Aldridge Spotted on Romantic Boat Ride with New Boyfriend”

—Hello Paris!

I CHECKED MYwatch as I stepped out of the elevator: eightP.M.One glance around the lobby was all it took to spot Kieran’s tall presence at the entrance. Black hair still styled from earlier, paired with a crisp pair of linen shorts and navy blue shirt, he was fidgeting with the ring on his finger. Up and over and down. As if he wasalsonervous. We’d been on several fake dates, so I wasn’t sure why this felt like more.

Maybe it was the dazed look in his eyes when he saw you in that red dress, unsure of whether to admire it or figure out how to unravel it—

In and out. In and out. A pathetic attempt to control the rapid beat of my heart.

I flattened the pleats in my skirt before approaching him.

“Is this when you finally tell me what’s happening? There wasn’t a PR event in tonight’s schedule.”

He jolted in surprise. “It’s nice to see you too.”

Him and formalities. “I can go back to my room where there’s a pint of ice cream.” I began to turn, but he caught my hand. It felt as intimate as our lips brushing in the jazz club.

When did touching each other’s hands become so casual?