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I’m not lying, he is. We worked on a superhero movie together two years ago, and he was nothing but professional and pleasant. Half of what you read about celebrities is total bullshit, including Cole’s womanizing ways.
A sizzle of awareness runs from my scalp to my toes, and I look up to meet blue eyes.
Patrick Ashton stands on the other side of the street, looking straight at me with a perplexed expression on his perfectly rugged face. The black stubble on his jaw is scruffier than it was the other night in my kitchen. I raise an eyebrow at him as if to say,see,not everyone in this town hates me.
We haven’t spoken or seen each other since that night in my dad’s kitchen, but I haven’t stopped thinking about him. Once upon a time, I thought something might have been brewing between us. Back when I believed in puppy love and teenage heartthrobs, Patrick had definitely been on my list of both of those. But before I could blink an eye, freshman year of high school arrived, and he showed me my place.
Now, here he is, slowly walking toward me right before the race is about to start. It’s impossible not to watch him mosey across the street, a denim button-up stretched across his broad chest while olive khakis mold over his thighs. The man stands too tall above the crowd, the kind of tall that would make anyone attractive even if they aren’t. Unfortunately, for me, that isn’t the case with Patrick because he’s too damn delicious to deny.
I don’t see his brothers or sister in sight or his parents, so the coast is probably clear on that front. It’s not like I haven’t gotten my fair share of looks today, though, and those have nothing to do with being a Hollywood actress. Those looks were from people turning their noses up at me because of who my father was.
“You know, I won this race one year. I was eleven.” He sidles up next to me, watching the road and standing with his arm nearly touching my shoulder.
I don’t look at him either, rather craning my neck to watch as the start gun goes off and the little kids zoom down the hill.
“That doesn’t surprise me in the least,” I say, as if we’re not ignoring the giant elephant in the room or, I guess, on Newton Street.
“Why’s that?” His deep voice is curious, and out of my peripheral vision, I can see the slight upturn of his lips.
It makes a crease in his face, not one of age but one of experience, and damn if that’s not sexy. This isn’t the boy I once had a crush on. No, he seems far more lethal now.
“Because you seem to get just about anything you want.”
“Not everything.”
His answer is cryptic, and I kind of hate that I betray myself and sneak a peek at him first. I also kind of hate that I want to know exactly what he can’t get.
But before I can, Patrick speaks again. The racers come down the hill, and the crowd erupts, cheering on their favorite participants.
“Although, a lot of people would say you grew up to get everything you want. Famous actress, recognized everywhere you go. You’ve got the life.”
The Ashton brother talks like he knew that’s what I wanted out of life. When in reality, I still don’t know what I want.
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” I look away from him, trying my hardest to keep the notes of sadness out of my voice.
“Isn’t that what every famous person says?” He snorts like I’m a joke, and now we’re full-on looking at each other while the boxcars coast to a finish at the line down the street.
That same sense of loneliness, the one that has kept me from working and away from anyone for almost a year, sweeps in like a swiftly moving hurricane.
“I guess so.” Nonchalance is what I’m going for, but I’m not sure it comes across that way.
“For what it’s worth,Steel Heartswas a good movie.” Patrick looks down at his feet as he shuffles them.
Shock ripples through me. “You saw it?”
He shrugs those big, lean shoulders. “Musta been dating someone at the time who wanted to see it. I didn’t even realize you were in it until you came on screen, about shocked the hell of out of me. But I did end up liking the movie.”
I notice how he doesn’t comment on my performance. “And here I thought an Ashton would never be a fan of mine.”
“Woah.” He holds up his hands. “I never said I’ve been carrying around your poster in hopes you’ll sign it. I don’t get to the movies much anymore.”
Something tells me he’s bluffing, at least in some sense, but I don’t push it. Honestly, I don’t know why he came over here in the first place. Aside from those teenage girls, no one has bothered to talk to me, even though I’ve recognized some familiar faces from the short time I went to high school here. Patrick, on the other hand, is practically a pseudo-mayor of this town, and there would be chatter if we were seen talking.
“Understood.” I don’t need to hear more about how he doesn’t think of me.
That only serves to remind me that not many people I know on a real level care all that much about me.
“Patty, you ready to go grab those beers? Oh, hey, Cassandra. I didn’t realize you were back in town.”
