Celeb Crush (16 page)

“Was it just you and your dad, or did your mom come, too?” I ask casually.  I know even less about her, so I’m super curious.

Luke smiles, his expression a little far away.  “When I was little, she used to.  Man, when she went, we’d pack five times the shit me and Dad usually took with us.  She took everything but the kitchen sink.”

“Must be a mom thing,” I say, thinking of Aunt Susan.  Not my mother—she preferred hotels over sleeping on the ground any day.

“Yeah, but the crazy thing is she’d bring, like, a bottle opener—but no bottles.  Or she’d bring a fucking lint roller of all things—and forget her clothes.”

I don’t dare look him in the eye when I ask, “Do you miss her?”

He pauses for a few seconds before shaking his head.  “No, not really.  I mean, you can’t miss someone who was never really around, right?”

“Your mom was a selfish bitch,” I accidentally say out loud.  He bursts out laughing as I quickly mutter an apology. 

“No, you’re right.  She was a selfish bitch,” he replies tonelessly.  “She was just a kid when she had me, you know?   And I was just a drunken mistake.”

The way how he says, I’m certain that he heard it from
her
many times as a child.  I am thoroughly disgusted.  “How could two such shitty people have produced someone like you?” I wonder.

Instead of being offended, Luke just stares at me in disbelief.  “Wait a minute,” he says, amusement creeping into his voice.  “Was that a compliment somewhere in there?”

“Um.  No.”  I quickly try to play it off, waving a nonchalant hand in the air.  “What I mean is—you’re a pretty decent person.  You’ve done some good with your life.  You’re incredibly talented and successful.  And not only that—you give so much of your time and money to all these great causes.  It’s kind of cool.”

“Thanks, Tiger.”  Luke smirks at me.  “I’ve always wanted to be ‘kind of cool.’”

I just shrug.  He knows I’m not the articulate type.  A comfortable silence falls.  Lulled by the crackling sounds of the fire, I try to picture Luke as the only child of scumbag parents.  Is that why he became an actor—to get the attention he never got as a kid?  I don’t say that out loud.  I’m not insensitive, or anything. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?”  Luke says into the quiet.

“I guess,” I say cautiously.  The chill in the air has me zipping up my hoodie and scooting closer to the fire.

He puts his long legs up and rests his arms on his knees, staring down at his clasped hands.  “You and Bran started out as friends, right?  How did it become more than that?  Who made the first move?”

I’m caught off guard by his questions.  “I don’t really remember,” I admit.  “I got drunk one night and kissed him.  He kissed me back.  We never declared our feelings for each other, or anything cheesy like that.  We just sort of…transitioned into a couple.”

Luke appears to be mulling that over.  He cocks his head to the side, regarding me.  “Did you love him?”

“I trusted him,” I say carefully.  I’m not one to throw around the “L” word.  I like to think of it as an unstable compound that needs to be locked away, forever.

Luke nods, almost to himself.  “You still have feelings for him?”

“What’s with all the girly questions?”  I suddenly explode, jumping to my feet.  “You gonna ask me what I wore to prom next?”

He just looks up at me, that charismatic grin playing around his lips.  “You didn’t go prom,” he guesses confidently.  “You’re too anti-establishment.”

“I’m going to get changed,” I snap, not bothering to tell him he’s right.  I glare at him before I turn away.  “You’re weird in Oregon.”

I grab a flashlight and my bag from the tent, and stomp to the bathroom.  It only takes me a few minutes to change into my pajamas and perform my nightly ablutions—but I linger at the sink, not in a hurry to go back.  I don’t have an excuse for why I flipped out on Luke like that.  I just—I don’t want to talk about what happened with Bran.  Not with Luke.

I’m not going to have sex with him.  Luke, I mean.  Earlier, I was looking at his perfect face across from me, and I was trying to imagine kissing him—and I couldn’t do it.  I feel stupid just thinking about it.  I have a feeling we would end up bumping noses, or laughing uncontrollably.  It would just be uncomfortable after that unsuccessful attempt, and things would just go downhill from there.

Also, I’m beginning to think Luke is just messing with me.  If he really wanted me, he would just take me.  He doesn’t play mind games with girls he wants to hook up with—he doesn’t have to.  That’s just not his style.  I stare sightlessly into the mirror above the sink, mentally replaying our interactions over the past week.  He’s had plenty of opportunities to kiss me, but he never did.

Now I feel like a dumbass for freaking out over nothing.  Maybe it’s not Luke that needs to get laid.  Maybe it’s me.  What a chilling thought.

Shaking my head, I finally leave the bathroom—only to find myself in a veritable downpour.  Thanks, Mother Nature.  Way to put the fire out on my heated loins.

It’s a quick dash back to the tents, but it doesn’t matter—I am completely soaked.  When it rains in Oregon, it rains.  Oh, shit, my sleeping bag!  It’s still draped over the back of the truck.  Ah, forget it.  It probably still smells like dog poop, anyways.  I’ll just—

Trip over something on the ground and land face first into the mud. 

I lie there for a couple of minutes, tasting dirt and blood.  Devo.  The dog cursed me, or something.  I slowly lift myself up and look back to see what I tripped over.  Oh, look at that.  It’s the stake the creature’s leash was attached to.  Perfect.

Eventually, I get to my feet.  I grab my fallen flashlight and bag, and walk slowly over to the tent I’m sharing with Luke.  There’s a soft glow coming from the inside, so I know he’s in there.  Hopefully he’s already asleep and only left the light on as a courtesy to me.

Just in case, I try to be as quiet as possible unzipping the tent, and stepping inside.  The light is coming from a lantern hanging from a hook on the ceiling of the tent.  It’s glowing dimly, just illuminating Luke lying on top of his sleeping bag, arms crossed behind his head.  His eyes are closed and he’s got his earbuds in, plugged into the phone resting on his chest.

The tent is much too small.  Drips of water from my clothes hit his leg, and his eyes open.  He props himself up on his elbows, taking in my soggy appearance.  “What the hell happened to you?” he greets me, popping his earbuds out.

“It’s raining.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Luke says.  Big fat drops pelt the outside of the tent, making quite a racket.  He reaches for his bag and rummages through it, pulling out a towel which he tosses to me.

“Thanks.”

Shivering, I turn my back to him and wipe the mud from my face and hands.  My fluffy pajamas are a lost cause.  I need to change my clothes before I get the whole floor of the tent wet.

Guess what I find when I unzip my bag?  The contents of it are covered in greasy white lotion from the now broken bottle of sunscreen that I had carelessly tossed in there with my clothes.  The bottle had been full…and now it’s completely empty.

I’m laughing on the inside, really.

“What’s wrong?”  Luke asks from behind me.

Wordlessly, I hold up the empty sunscreen container, and show him my open bag.  Chuckling, he shakes his head.  “Poor Andi.  You’re not having the best day, are you?”
“That,” I growl, “is an understatement.”

Still grinning, he sits all the way up.  I watch silently as he shrugs out of the unbuttoned long-sleeved flannel he’s wearing over his t-shirt.  He hands it over to me and I accept it gratefully.   What else am I gonna do—stay cold and wet and prudish?  “Don’t look,” I say menacingly.  I turn the lantern off for good measure, and the tent is immediately immersed in darkness and shadows.

There’s just enough light coming from the nearby bathrooms to help me get changed.  I quickly strip out of my shirt.   I debate for a second on the wet bra—but it’s silly to leave it on, so I take that off, too.  I quickly put on the shirt, trying not to notice that it smells strongly of Luke, and is still warm with his body heat.  I have to take my time buttoning it up because my fingers are shaking.  From the cold.  I shimmy out of my soggy pants and toss it in the corner of the tent. 

I face Luke once again.  My eyes immediately find his in the dark.  He never turned around.  My breath hitches.  His face is cloaked in shadows, but I can feel the heat of his gaze.  It pierces my skin and warms me in a way the fire couldn’t.   My heart thrums erratically in my chest, and I suddenly and deeply regret taking off my bra.

“You were supposed to turn around,” I say in what was supposed to be a stern tone of voice.  But the words come out all breathy and slutty.

“I know.”  Luke’s tone matches mine, and his eyes slowly travel down my body.

It’s not like he can see much in the dark, and the flannel covers me like a fairly modest dress.  But it’s his shirt, and he knows what I don’t have under it because he saw me take it off.  I can hear my pulse beating in my ears.  Is that normal?  Shit.

I stand there stiffly, trying to figure out what to do with myself.  The rain continues to beat down around us, intensifying the smoky fragrance left over from the camp fire, and the clean scent of Luke’s soap.  Mostly, though, it smells like sunscreen.

“I’m not sleeping with you!” I suddenly shout into the heavy silence.

I expect Luke to laugh, or smirk at me—or something.  But his mouth remains unsmiling as he looks at me.  “Yeah, you are,” he counters.  “There’s only one sleeping bag.”

Damn it!  I narrow my eyes at him.  “You’re not gonna be a gentleman and let me have it?”

Now he laughs.  “Not a chance, Tiger.”

He unzips the bag halfway and gets into it, resting on his side.  Then he looks over at me, one eyebrow raised in challenge. 

“You must be joking,” I snap, while the proverbial butterflies erupt in my stomach.  “There’s no way we can both fit in there.”

“Trust me, Andi.”  His voice is low and smoky.  “I’ll make us fit.”

Oh, ha.  He thinks it’s going to be that easy, does he?  Well, I haven’t gone two years of no sexual contact without learning a few things. 

I crawl into the sleeping bag, using my bony elbows and knees to their fullest advantage.  Luke flinches when I come uncomfortably close to kneeing him in a sensitive spot.  His grunt of pain is satisfying, but I quickly realize that being trapped against his warm solid body is having a very profound effect on me.  And by profound, I mean that I am so turned on I can barely see straight.  It doesn’t help that my squirming causes my borrowed to shirt ride up almost to my waist.  Everywhere we touch is electrifying.  I reflexively clamp my thighs together, suddenly aware of a throbbing emptiness inside of me.  Why does he have to smell so good?  Why couldn’t he smell like dead fish?  And be all clammy and shit.

My plan continues to backfire as my hair gets caught in something.  Luke’s watch.  I try to jerk away, my eyes watering from the sudden stinging pain in my scalp.

“Will you stop moving?” Luke growls through his teeth. 

I give a tiny shriek as he carefully moves over me, lying half on top of me, and pinning me down with his weight.  He reaches over my head to unlatch his watch.

I watch him like a snared bird, chest heaving while waiting to see what happens next.  His face is so close to mine, I could lick his chin.  His brow furrows in concentration as he gently frees the tangled strands of hair.  The pulling sensation is suddenly gone.

“Better?” Luke murmurs, his eyes finding mine in the dark.  The gold in them seems to shimmer like starlight. 

“I don’t know,” I reply breathlessly.

I want his lips to curve into that playful smile.  I want him to make some kind of dirty joke about our predicament.  The way he’s looking at me right now, like he's starving, and I’m a five course meal—it thrills me, and it scares me to death.  I feel helpless to stop whatever happens next.  Not in a rape-y way.  Not at all.  In fact, just his close proximity is almost enough to send me over the edge.  And I’m a very hard girl to please—just ask Bran.  Or, don’t.  That’d probably be too much information.

Luke's piercing gaze leaves my face, and travels down my body. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I can see well enough—which means he can, too.   I watch, hypnotized, as his rough palm glides over my hip, fingers trailing along the lace edges of my underwear.  There is an expression of fierce concentration on his face, and he touches me like I’m something exquisitely fragile and priceless.  Can he feel me tremble under him?  I have to fight my body to keep from reacting to his electric touch.

This is
Luke
, I warn myself.  And—oh, god—if he moves his hand any further south, I’m going to really embarrass myself.

My breath catches in gasp, and I grab his wrist.  “Stop.”

Luke drags his eyes back to my face.  His lips are inches from mine.  “Why?”

“Just…don’t.”

He moves so that his hand is splayed on my bare stomach.  Every muscle deep inside of me jumps like a cat on a hot tin roof under his touch.  “I didn’t sleep with anyone when I was in L.A,” he says out of the blue.