Celeb Crush (9 page)

Actually, Megan’s exactly the type Luke describes as the perfect girlfriend whenever he’s asked in interviews:  sweet, naturally beautiful, and wholesome.  I wonder if she'll actually try to steal him away from me.  Not that Luke is really my boyfriend—but the bitch doesn’t know that.

I get her excitement, I really do.  Luke is gorgeous and very famous.   I've seen people cry and faint just at the sight of him.  Girls are willing to do anything to get close to him—and I mean anything.   Unfortunately for them, Luke has this strict policy about never getting involved with anyone outside the business.  Nate has no such rule, and will happily screw each and every legal (ish) fangirl that gets sent his way.  It’s shocking how many girls are willing to have sex with anyone connected to Lucas Greyson, and feel like they touched a part of him in the act.  And when I say they’ll do “anyone,” I’m including myself.  It’s never
not
awkward when a fourteen year old girl is batting her eyelashes at me, and offering sexual favors in exchange for meeting Luke.  I feel so old when I’m lecturing them on respectability and self-worth.

I used to have a celebrity crush like that on a game show host when I was thirteen.   It was pretty bad.   I was going to run away to Burbank to be with him— whether he liked it, or not.  Sadly, he was arrested for the murder of his ex-wife, and my dreams were never realized.

Anyway…I understand where these crazy fans are coming from.  Luke says they view him as an obsession, and not a real person.  Maybe some of them do—but I think the majority of them…I think that they’re normal people who just want to be a part of his magic.  Because celebrities really
are
magical and more special than the rest of us.  When you’re around one of them, reality fades away, and rainbows and glitter fill the sky.  True story.

I get done with the housework in record time—mostly to get away from Megan.  What I’d really like to do is go home and take a nap, but then Luke texts me, telling me to meet him at Gilly’s.  I bang my forehead a couple of times against the steering wheel to wake myself up.  It works, kind of.  Did I mention that Luke rarely sleeps?  This is going to be a long day.

He just better not be drunk.

Chapter 8

Gilly’s is a dumpy brown shingled building.  It’s a pretty grungy-looking bar with permanently sticky tables and chairs—and don’t let me tell you about the floor.  But the place always seems to do good, and is usually filled with a good mix of people. It’s about eleven in the morning, and there’s a decent amount sitting at the booths, having an early lunch with their beer.  A bunch of college age guys are playing pool in the back; their obnoxious laughter can be heard over the country rock playing over the bar’s speakers.

Luke is sitting at one of the booths, having a beer and a burger.  I recognize him by his Yankees cap, but when he looks up, I get a jolt of surprise.  His nose is different—a little bigger and slightly bulbous.  His chin is thicker, and less defined.  He bears a vague resemblance to his movie star self—like a less fortunate cousin.  He still looks cute and sexy, but LG is not the first thing that comes to mind when you first lay eyes on him.

Luke raises his eyebrows and fake-chin nods at me when I plop down on the bench across from him.  I notice that he’s wearing his brown contacts.  Without the striking gold-green color to distract you, you can fully appreciate the rest of his features:  the supermodel bone structure, the strong jawline…his smiling mouth.  All that beauty is wasted on him, though.  If his job didn’t demand that he paid attention to his appearance, he would wander around with a beard and ratty clothes all day.  And he has the nerve to bitch at me about how I dress.

“Your grandma’s awesome,” he says after swallowing a massive bite of his burger.  “I’ve never had my ass pinched so much in my life.”

I sink back into the seat, rubbing my forehead.  “Please tell me you’re joking,” I groan.

He just grins and grabs his beer.  “How did the wedding talk go?”

“It was super,” I say with a bright fake smile.  “We’re expected for dinner at six.  Does that work for you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”   Luke picks his phone up from the table, and glances at it.  “You have plenty of time to show me around now.”

I steal a thick steak fry from his plate.  “Isn’t that what you and Ellen were doing all morning?”

“Are you kidding?  That was just a ploy.  She took me to this diner where I was ambushed by a bunch of her friends.  I spent most of the morning being flirted with and groped by grabby old ladies.”  He shudders a little. “They did feed me some damn fine pie, though.”

I shake my head, disappointed in Ellen.  “She told them who you were?”

“Nah.  They just thought I was some hot young piece of meat.”  Luke taps his nose.  “I told you this disguise was awesome, right?”

I can’t help but picture Luke being molested by Ellen and her friends, the old lady claws coming at him from every direction to pinch, grab, and poke.  I try to hide my snickers by turning my head, and putting a hand over my mouth.  He’s not fooled.

“Yeah, ha, ha.  You get to make it up to me.  Come on; let’s go do the tourist-y stuff.”

I look at him in surprise.  “You don’t want to jump off a mountain—or go whale riding, or something?”

“Nope.  This is my first real vacation in a long time.  I wanna just chill.”  Luke grimaces and rubs the side of his neck.  “And my back still kind of hurts from that stunt gone wrong.  Man, I must be getting old.”

I regard him suspiciously.  “Aren’t you the same guy who tried to water ski with a broken leg?”

He shrugs, baring his toothpaste commercial teeth in a reckless grin.  “I’m not as resilient as I used to be.”  He lightly slaps the table in front of me.  “Hey, guess what?  Georgia—one of Ellen’s friends—owns the gym right across the street from here.  She gave me her spare key and said I can use it any time I want while I’m in town.”

He leans to one side so he can search his front jeans pocket for the key, which he then pulls out and dangles in front of me.  The key is attached to a keychain shaped like a barbell.  I swat at it like a cat.  “No way,” I say.  “Do I even want to know what you had to do to get that?”

“What do you mean?  I was just my old charming self.”  Luke shrugs when I stare at him disbelievingly.  “I already checked the place out.  It’s pretty decent.  I figure we can go really early, or late at night, yeah?  It closes at eleven.”

Yeah, I’m definitely not getting any sleep while Luke’s here.  Sighing almost imperceptibly, I nod my head and smile.  He finishes his burger in two huge bites, throws down a twenty dollar tip, and then he’s up and running. 

We stop by Ellen’s office to say goodbye.  I tell her about dinner, but it turns out she already has plans.  She has a date!  Luke jokes that he’s jealous, and Ellen actually blushes while her eyes helplessly crawl over the hard muscled parts of him—which is pretty much everywhere.  You know, it’s not that I’m not used to his effect on people.  These are
my
people, though, and it’s just not right.

We take Luke’s rental truck and leave my car at Gilly’s.  He’s serious about doing the tourist thing.  We walk along the shops across the street from the beach.  Luke buys freshly made caramel popcorn, and I get a waffle cone with cookie dough ice cream—my favorite and Luke’s, too.  He steals bites from it, though I try to keep it out of his reach.

“Hey, let’s go look at the boats,” he says, nodding towards the marina.  While I’m distracted, he grabs my hand with the waffle cone in it and takes a shameless lick off the top.

“Ugh!  Just take it,” I growl, thrusting it at him.

“No, it’s more fun this way,” he insists with a laugh.

Damn it, he really is getting into the role of loving boyfriend.  It’s kind of freaking me out.  I’m used to having Nate, or one of his other countless friends around as a buffer.  Sometimes when it’s just the two of us, Luke starts to get into this restless pensive mood, and his eyes follow me with heated speculation.   This is usually when he hasn’t had sex in a while (and “a while” is three days for him).  I know not to take it personally.  I’m a warm female body, and I’m available.  So far, he’s never crossed that physical line (except for that time in Paris, but he was asleep so I guess it doesn’t count)—but then he’s never pretended to be my boyfriend before.  Yeah, obviously, we don’t have your typical boss/employee relationship.  It’s weird, needy, and kind of twisted but we make it work.  This—this is unchartered territory.   I am not comfortable with even pretending to be together like that.

Fortunately Luke doesn’t try to hold my hand, or anything stupid like that.  We walk down by the docks and look at the boats, and then we head up to Hunter Creek Falls to see the waterfall.  I make Luke stop to buy a bag of peanuts so we can feed the squirrels there.  Megan, Talon, and I used to do it every time we went, as do most of the people who visit.  Those squirrels are some of the fattest most well-fed bastards I’ve ever seen.

I'm actually having a lot of fun.  It's kind of strange, but I feel more comfortable hanging out with this disguised version of Luke.   He looks like someone I could meet at college, cute and completely normal.  Not like my famous boss who can’t go out in public without being mobbed by adoring fans.  I take a picture of him covered in squirrels, and send it to Nate—who predictably texts back with a joke about nuts. 

“I’m all out, dude, sorry,” Luke says to the squirrel standing imperiously on his chest.  He’s lying on the grass, propped up on his elbows.  The squirrel twitches its fluffy tail and skitters away, making him chuckle.

“Ivan wants to know the status of your mental state,” I say, looking up from my phone.

Luke locks his hands behind his head and stares up at the bright blue sky.  “Tell him I’m feeling very fragile right now.  I may need another month of R and R to recover.”

I text Ivan back with Luke’s answer, and almost before I can hit send, it dings with another text from him.  “He says not to forget your dinner on Thursday with Mark.  And pretty please will you do a photo shoot for JW next week Friday.  He swears you’ll be obligation-free for the rest of your vacation after this.”

“That’s fine,” Luke replies, sounding peaceful and distant as he continues to watch the clouds drift by.

After I’m done relaying the message, I put my phone on silent mode.  I want to enjoy nature, too.  A squirrel bites me for not having any peanuts left, and I accidentally kick it.  It lands a few feet away, looking about as embarrassed as a squirrel can possibly look.  It scampers away even though I throw the half a peanut I discovered in my hair at it.

It’s so nice here.  We hiked to the top of the waterfall, taking a path that’s technically not a path because of that fence we had to climb over.  That’s okay, though, because we’re alone up here with a breathtaking and dizzying view of the falls down below.  I take several pictures, and then I sit down next to Luke, plugging my earphones into my phone so I can listen to music while he naps.

I have to wake him up an hour later, which is a shame because he was sleeping so well.  “Luke, wake up,” I say loudly.  “It’s time to go!”

He doesn’t respond when I yell at him, so I lightly thump his chest.  Quick as a snake, he grabs my hand, pulling me down on top of him.  I can feel the warmth of his sun-heated skin through his shirt, and the fast thumping of his heartbeat. 

“Damn, Andi,” he grumbles, cracking one eye open at me.  “Haven’t you ever heard the one about letting sleeping actors lie?”

I snatch my hand back.  “God knows you need your beauty rest.  But we have to go, or we’ll be late for dinner.”  Then I add, “Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind about going.”

“Mm, not a chance.”  Luke groans as he stretches his back out.  “Just give me a minute, alright?”

I turn away quickly so he doesn’t see my concerned expression.  I feel bad for him sometimes.  He looks so tired right now, both emotionally and physically. Before I met Luke, I never really thought about how demanding a job it is to be an A-list actor.  His lists of obligations are never-ending, and sometimes it seems like he’s being pulled in a million different directions by people who want a piece of him.  Even his friends.  Or maybe, especially them.

“Shit,” he groans again, interrupting my thoughts.  “Okay, I’m good.  Hey, what time is it?”

I check my phone.  “Four-thirty.”

Luke grimaces, jumping lithely to his feet.   “We’ll make it.”

We scale the fence unnoticed, and head down the main trail to the parking lot.  As we’re going down the steps, we pass a family who smile and nod at us in greeting.  I notice the pretty teenage daughter give Luke a lingering glance, and a flirtatious smile.  There’s admiration, but not a hint of recognition on her face.

“How come you don’t wear that disguise more often?” I asks him after the family passes out of hearing range.

Luke shrugs his broad shoulders, looking annoyed.  “I have to wear shit on my face all the time when I’m on camera.  I fucking hate it; it itches like hell.”

Oh.  Well, why is he wearing it, then?  He seemed so excited about it this morning.  Actors are so weird, and don’t let anybody tell you different. They have to be at least a little dysfunctional to do what they do.