When Stars Fall by Wendy Million

Chapter Seven

Ellie

Thirteen Years Ago

I’m flying, and I want to stretch out my arms in the limo to drift on the current of the wind. Whatever Isaac gave me is magic. I’m more relaxed than I’ve ever been.

He pats my leg and grins. “Bet your late call time tomorrow seems fantastic about now.”

I’m drifting, floating, drifting. My hands. My fingers are so long. Who painted my nails this weird purple color?

Isaac turns to the limo driver and says something, but I can’t focus enough to catch it. The rear door opens and lights flash. Wyatt climbs in, and he drags a leggy brunette behind him.

He’s blurry, as though the lights from the cameras smeared him. Still beautiful, though. Bright eyes, dark hair, and so many glorious muscles.

Isaac’s arm is around me, and I lean into him. Wyatt’s brought some random woman for our night out. Guess he won’t be expecting me to thank him this time.

“Blanca, the Spanish supermodel.” Isaac gestures toward her and passes her a glass of white wine. “This is Ellie Cooper. Remember that name. She’s incredible. Gonna set the world on fire.”

I nod at her instead of offering my hand. Everything in the limo is hazy, softer. Wyatt’s been pissing me off. Blowing hot and cold and every temperature in between when we’re in a room together. Keeping track of his moods makes my brain hurt.

“What the fuck did you give her?” Wyatt leans forward and shakes my knee.

“Leave me alone, Wyatt.” I burrow deeper into Isaac’s side and slap Wyatt’s hand away.

“Seriously, Isaac.” Anger clouds his face. A storm is brewing, though they never seem to fight . . .

“Why do you care?” I stare at Blanca, who is sipping her wine, amusement teasing the edges of her mouth. Maybe she doesn’t speak English.

Wyatt cracks the tequila bottle and pours three shots. He passes one to Isaac, one to Blanca, and keeps one for himself.

“Hey.” I manage to sit forward in annoyance.

“Not happening.” Wyatt gives me a pointed, pissed-off look. “What did you take? Pill, powder, or liquid?”

I shrug. A drink of some sort. Tasted like candy. Isaac wouldn’t give me something bad.

“You didn’t tell her?” Disbelief is clear in his voice. His brow furrows with disappointment.

“It was a glass of lean. Calm down,” Isaac says.

I swipe Isaac’s shot before he can drink it, and I down the liquid in a gulp. “You’re a hypocrite.” My words slur.

Isaac pours another, handing it to me. Wyatt settles into his seat with his jaw clenched. Blanca drapes herself over him. Gross.

His sea-colored eyes are trained on me as I chat nonsense with Isaac. When we step out of the limo at the club, the camera flashes are rapid and blinding. I stumble, and Isaac drags me tighter to his side to keep me from falling. We navigate the crush of people with club security as a wall around us until we reach the front entrance.

Strange that we’re arriving this way. We rarely go in the front entrance because of the paparazzi. Wyatt and Isaac enjoy the attention, but I’ve learned they like it best on their own terms.

Inside the bar, Blanca leads the way to a VIP room at the back. At least this part is normal, even if I don’t feel normal in any way. There are others in the VIP area, and Isaac glues himself to my side so I don’t feel out of place. He always knows everyone. For what seems like hours, he takes me around from person to person, introducing me and speaking a weird mix of Spanish and English that I couldn’t follow sober. Isaac speaks Hindi too. Right now, I can barely speak at all.

“What’s Wyatt’s problem?” I ask when we slide into a booth without him.

One side of Isaac’s mouth tilts up, and he turns to examine me. “Oh, Ellie. How much time have you got?”

“Isaac!” The crowd in front of us parts, and a striking dark-haired white woman appears. She’s tall and reed thin, and the closer she gets, the more recognition dawns in my addled brain. Wyatt’s younger sister.

Isaac scoots over to give Anna room to squeeze into the booth with us. She’s on the other side of him, and he throws his arm around her narrow shoulders. “Anna, have you met Ellie? She’s starring opposite Wyatt in the movie we’re shooting.” He shifts to me. “Ellie, this is Wyatt’s baby sister. Kinda like my baby sister too.” He kisses her temple. “The Sharmas unofficially adopted the Burgess kids.”

Anna takes me in with eyes that are an unusual blue-green shade, just like Wyatt’s. Her allure is remarkable, and her modeling career makes a lot of sense. She’s the same age as me, but there’s a toughness to her I don’t possess.

“You the flavor of the month? How long are you going to last?” Anna asks, and she sips her drink while watching for my response.

“Be nice,” Isaac says.

Anna rolls her eyes and then focuses on Isaac. “Have you got anything?”

“What’re you after?” He digs into his pocket.

“You got any benzos?” She peers into his pill bottle.

While they sort through Isaac’s stash, I look over to see Wyatt brush Blanca off his lap and leave his bar stool. With a swagger, he comes over to where Isaac, Anna, and I are sitting, and he holds out his hand. “They’re playing our song. You gotta come dance with me.” He tips his head toward the dance floor.

“Did he just say ‘our song’?” Anna asks Isaac in an overly loud voice. “Wyatt, stay and do a line with us. Don’t be lame.”

“Not now, Anna,” he says, and he doesn’t break eye contact with me.

I listen and catch a few bars of the chorus. It’s the Alicia Keys song he asked to have played the other day during our love scene.

“Come on, Ellie,” he says.

Longing is written on his face, and I cave. When I rise, I stagger, and Wyatt lifts me out of the booth as though I weigh nothing to carry me to the dance floor. He sets me in front of him and then ever so slowly draws me into his arms.

While we dance, he holds me close and sings along at a level only I can hear. The lyrics to “If I Ain’t Got You” flow out of him, smooth and deep. We sway to the music with his lips next to my ear. I relax into him, letting him lead me around the dance floor, wishing the song would go on forever. He’s a good singer. The Daisy Network days benefitted him in at least one way.

When the song comes to an end, Wyatt brings the back of my hand to his mouth and places a soft kiss across my knuckles. My body vibrates, anticipates. The tension that’s sprung up between us is one I recognize.

There’s an unasked question in the depths of his eyes. My answer now, and probably for the rest of my life, is yes. I can’t imagine saying no.

I want this. I want him, and I close the little space between us in a silent plea for something, anything. He tugs me toward him and buries a hand in my hair. He gives me a last desperate glance before his lips rush to meet mine. I clutch onto him, rising on my toes to deepen the kiss. Throwing my arms around his neck, I press myself closer, and I lose any sense of where we are as heat rises through my body. If I could stay in his arms, I’d never want the night to end.

“Come home with me,” I say between kisses.

“Ellie.” There’s so much need in his voice that my knees almost collapse. He shifts to create space between us, and I’m sure he’ll tell me no. Blanca is here, and one kiss between costars on the dance floor means nothing. But I want so much more than a kiss. Say yes to me, Wyatt.

“I can’t.” He kisses me again as though he can’t help himself.

“We’re young. This doesn’t have to be some great love affair.” He’s cracked a window between us, and I’m not letting the opportunity pass. Whatever Isaac gave me hours ago is wearing off. I’m buzzed enough to ignore Anna’s rudeness, but not so out of my head I don’t understand what I’m suggesting.

“I can’t make any promises.” He dips into my neck and his lips trail kisses along the sensitive skin.

“Don’t need them.” I dig my fingers into his biceps. My knees won’t hold me up, and my blood has rushed to my core in anticipation.

“I wish you weren’t high right now. What if you don’t remember?” he murmurs.

“Doesn’t that mean we get to do it again?” I run my hands through his dark hair.

He groans and returns to my lips, kissing me deeply, cradling my face in his hands. This time when we break apart, he sweeps me up off the dance floor and carries me through the crowd toward the side door.

“Why’d we come in the front earlier?” I loop my arms around his neck and tuck my cheek under his chin, away from prying eyes.

“Blanca wanted to be seen with me,” he says.

“You do that sort of thing?” I try to covertly scan the crowd for anyone watching us. There are a few curious stares but nothing out of the ordinary.

“Trade favors? Sure, why not? Her agent called my agent. None of it matters.” He strides up to the exit with determination. “It’s a game, Ellie. You’ll see.”

At the door, he sets me down and takes his phone out of his pocket as we head outside.

“What about your sister or Isaac or . . . Blanca?” Her name tastes sour on my tongue.

“You don’t need to worry about them.” Wyatt tugs me toward him, and his lips find mine again. He backs me against a pillar, running his hands along my sides. “I’ve thought about doing this with you for real a thousand times.”

Only a thousand? A glance from him across a crowded set was enough to make me think about dark rooms, beds, the brush of his skin against mine. Every place he touches lights up, glows, explodes with sensation. His hands and lips offer a special kind of magic.

“One other thing.” He kisses me again, and then he gives me a hard stare. “No more accepting shit from Isaac, okay?”

“It was one drink. Made me feel good.” I try to reach for him, but he maintains space between us.

“I’m serious. If you want to try something, ask me, and I’ll get it for you. But Isaac takes stupid risks and mixes shit he shouldn’t. He thinks he’s invincible.”

“You and Isaac are friends.” They both pop pills, drink alcohol, and manage drug combinations like they’re working a second job.

“He’s my best friend. There isn’t a friend in the world like Isaac. That’s the truth. He’s my brother—his whole family is more mine than my own.” He pauses and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Doesn’t mean what I said isn’t true too.”

“Are you on something right now?” He seems together. Coherent. His eyes are clear, focused.

“I’m always on something. Sometimes I hide it better than others. If we’re doing this,” he takes a breath and then continues, “whatever this becomes, my habits aren’t up for discussion.”

“You’re fine. Why would we talk about them?” Other than his oscillating moods toward me, he’s professional and focused on set. He’s a phenomenal kisser, and a lot of fun on nights out. “What if I did bring it up, so what?”

“I’d pick the drugs.” He doesn’t hesitate, and a shiver cascades down my body. “Now you know the answer, so you never have to ask the question.” The limo arrives, and Wyatt examines me for a long beat. “Still time to back out. Things will stay as they are. I won’t treat you any differently on set if you say no.”

I drag him to me for another kiss. Change my mind? Not likely. He occupies all my thoughts. Whatever happens after tonight I can’t control. But for now he’s mine, just mine. My hand is linked with his as we climb into the limo.

In the back seat, I straddle him and frame his face with my hands. Confidence oozes out of me. He stares at me with such contentment that my heart swells. I can’t imagine ever asking him to be anything other than who he is right now.