Page 67 of Chasing Stardust

He laughs. “I’m sure. We’ll get it back in the morning. Fully charged.”

Suddenly self-conscious, I tug the bottom of my shirt, wishing I was wearing something a little less rumpled and sweaty.

“Come on.” A slow grin spreads across his face as he tows me into the building.

The sweet fragrance of lemon and fresh flowers hits me the moment I step across the threshold. Giant arrangements of seasonal blooms and bowls of ripe lemons adorn a mahogany table—the first of several lining the walls and anchoring each matching pair of red velvet sofas. I keep waiting for someone to stop me and tell me I don’t belong, but no one seems to notice the embarrassingly underdressed couple crossing the soaring lobby.

Dash leads me into a mirrored elevator and slips a key into the panel. He presses the button for the top floor and clings to my hand while we ascend. The doors open to the most spectacular view I’ve ever seen. Framed by floor-to-ceiling glass, and lit up like a shiny Christmas tree, the New York City skyline takes my breath away.

The view draws me in until my nose hovers a hairbreadth from the glass.

“Dash, you’re rich.” My heart sinks as I gape down at the Matchbox cars lining the street below.

We really don’t live in the same world.

“Not me.” His fingers circle my wrist, and he tows me away from the window. “My dad.”

“Yeah, but your dad is, like, uber rich. That makes you rich adjacent.” I gaze up at him.

His smile falters. “Please don’t make this a thing between us. It really isn’t a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? Have you seen this place?” A sharp twinge stabs my heart, and I press my fingers to the spot. “And let’s not forget that ridiculously expensive car of yours. Did you happen to see what I was driving? And that armadillo-murdering monstrosity isn’t even mine. My piece-of-shit car wouldn’t have made it to the Tennessee state line. I’d probably be stranded somewhere between Cleveland and Nashville with my entire electrical system shorted out.”

Dash loops an arm around my shoulders and presses his lips to my temple.

“I don’t even know who you are.”

Would he have even given me a second glance if we’d met under different circumstances?

He wraps his other arm around me, tucking my head under his chin. “I’m the same guy you met in that shitty diner in Tennessee. The cars, the money, the fancy apartments . . . none of that is who I am.”

I melt into him, burying my face in his chest. “My family isn’t rich. And I’m not convinced most of them are even sane. My grandmother swears she gave birth to David Bowie’s love child. And my mother clearly believed her if she made me promise to spread her ashes along that specific tour path.”

Dash sucks in a sharp breath, and his arms tighten around me.

“And I’m just as crazy as the rest of them—thinking I could survive a cross-country road trip all by myself. God, what would we even talk about in the real world?”

“Trust me.” He exhales slowly, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “I’d much rather talk with your family than mine. I do everything in my power to stay out of their orbit whenever humanly possible.”

I nod, desperate to believe him.

“It’s late,” he says. “We should go to bed.”

“Bed?” I stiffen in his arms like a schoolgirl.

Dash lets out a nervous laugh. “I’m certain there are more than enough beds to go around, if . . .”

Swallowing a groan, I lift my face to his. “If it’s all the same to you, I-I’d rather sleep wherever you’re sleeping.”

He flashes a crooked grin. “As long as you promise not to take advantage of me.”

“It won’t be easy, but I’ll try to control myself.”

“Who do you think she is?”

“Definitely Goldilocks. Look at her hair.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Goldilocks doesn’t wear Superman underwear.”