Unwanted Stars (23 page)

"I bet it'd be fantastic," Charlie said. "You've met so many people."

"One in particular," I said with a smile, eyeing Campbell. He squeezed my hand under the table.

"Where do you see yourself, you know, long term?" Colin asked, taking a sip of wine. "Will you stay in Europe? Go back to the states?"

"Dad," Campbell said, leaning back in his chair, looking irritated.

"What?" Colin said in retort. "It's a simple question. I'm not giving her the third degree, son."

"The truth is, sir, I'd like to stay. But I'm not sure about working the tours after January. That's when my contract ends."

"I see," he said. "Well, enjoy it. Seems like a pretty exciting job. Getting paid to travel."

"It's been interesting, that's for sure," I said, giving him a genuine smile. I knew he was being protective of Campbell's heart. He didn't want his son to fall in love with someone who was planning to leave, but I had to be honest. I didn't have an answer yet. And I missed my family. The thought of living across an ocean from them for an extended period of time was a little overwhelming.

The rest of the meal was uneventful but insightful into the type of family Campbell was from. The Hutchins family had a boisterous sense of humor. Their lives were enmeshed and boundaries were crossed at times when it came to private discussions versus dinner conversation, but there was love there. So much love it was practically bursting at the seams. And they had welcomed me with open arms. Each member of the family had made a point to get to know me, to know more about me, and I knew it was because of their love for Campbell. I could only hope my family would give Campbell the same impression as his family was giving me.

That night, we joined Charlie at Fuegos, a swanky bar that was part of an even swankier restaurant called Wildfire. The music was booming around the heavily decorated room. Thank God I'd packed a stylish pair of black pants, a silk top, and a chunky necklace. My hair was in a bun on the top of my head ala Carrie Bradshaw in season three of
Sex and the City
(the season where she cheated on Aidan with Big; her hair was so fabulous that season). And I was feeling pretty sexy.

It helped that every chance he got, Campbell whispered in my ear.

"I may have to take you right here," he said when Charlie snuggled up to a hot brunette who’s dress was so tight, I was amazed she could breathe. "You are looking way too sexy tonight."

"Tough. You have to wait. I don't have sex in public places."

"I beg to differ," he said. "Remember Rome?"

"How could I forget?" I asked, tilting my head. "But that wasn't sex. Although, if we found a quiet corner, I might let you do it again."

"Such a tease," he said. "I love when you're like this."

"You mean like all the time?" I asked, my words covered in sarcasm.

"Exactly. I love your attitude. You keep me on my toes."

"Speaking of which, let's go," I said, motioning to the dance floor. Techno was booming through the speakers and I wanted to move.

"Okay," he said, standing.

"Where you two headed?" Charlie asked, joining us again, the brunette on his arm. Her lipstick was the brightest pink I’d ever seen. "I want you to meet Celeste."

Why is it that skanky women always have the fanciest names? I'll never understand. It's like their parents gave them a soap opera name from the 1980s and they automatically grew up to be Eurotrash. Blows my mind.

"Hi," she said, and that one word told me we had something in common.

"American?" I asked.

"How'd you know?"

"I'm from Chicago."

"Oh, cute," she said, flipping her hair. Her voice was littered in condescension.
Cute?
Campbell could feel my irritation and gripped my hand in his. Celeste pointed to herself and simply said, "Manhattan."

"What do you
do
in Manhattan?"

"I'm a model," she said, taking a sip of her martini. I wanted to call bullshit. I really, really wanted to call bullshit. But, out of respect for Campbell and his brother, I bit my tongue. That didn't mean I was going to let her off easy though.

"That's fabulous," I said, "Would I have seen any of your work?"

"Oh, um, maybe," she muttered.
Busted
.

"Try me," I said with a shit-eating grin.

"Well, I'm up for a magazine spread with Calvin Klein. But you probably haven't seen my earlier stuff."

"Again, try me," I said, not backing down. She glared at me with her dark brown eyes and sighed.

"J.C. Penney. I've done Sunday ads for them." She looked me up and down. "You've probably seen them since, clearly, you shop there."

"Well, my
mom
does," I said, pursing my lips together. "Campbell, let's dance. See you later,
Penney
." I dragged that last word off my tongue like a viper, emphasizing every sound of every letter. I told you, I'm a bitch.

Charlie threw his head back in laughter as I sauntered to the dance floor, pulling Campbell by the hand.

"You're too much sometimes," he said into my ear as we swayed to the music.

"She pissed me off," I said matter-of-factly. "So you'd better step off, Starsky."

"I meant that in the best possible way."

"Well, hopefully your brother will forgive me. Looks like she left in a huff."

"He'll be
just
fine. Don't worry," he said, nuzzling my hair. "Now, show me what you got."

"You sound like one of those guys in those 80s break dancing movies."

"There's a reason for that."

"Enlighten me," I said, swaying my hips, pressing them to his thighs.

"I loved those movies.
Breakin'
was one of my favorites. I wanted to be Turbo."

"You...are...such...a...nerd," I said, raising my arms above my head as I shifted my weight from side to side.

"Check it out," he said, pushing away from me so there was at least three feet of space between us. He then did one of the funniest things I've ever seen another human being do; he started to break dance. Right there on the dance floor. First, he did that weird wiggling the arm thing, where you try to make your arm look like a wave. Then he shifted his weight, bringing one knee up and then the other, his movements stiff like a robot.

My hand moved to cover my mouth to control my laughter. Campbell continued to gyrate around the dance floor, smiling from ear to ear as he tried to embarrass me. But I wasn't embarrassed. I was impressed. I loved how fearless he was; break dancing in the middle of a fancy club was a pretty gutsy move and I loved him for it.

"What the bullocks is that?" Charlie asked, standing next to me.

"Break dancing."

"I know," he said, "but he started without me."

Charlie jumped next to Campbell and they moved together in sync, like gorgeous blue-eyed robots. All I could do was stand back and watch in awe. I was not a child of the 80s, and even though my brother was obsessed with 80s pop culture, it was never my thing. But clearly it was Campbell's. And Charlie's for that matter.

When the song ended, Campbell placed his arm around Charlie and they walked toward me. His other arm wrapped around my waist.

"Let's get a drink," he said.

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter and funny stories about their childhood in a shared room. When Campbell left to use the washroom, Charlie turned to me.

"I like you, Auden."

"I like you too," I said, sipping my drink.

"I've never seen him like this. It's pretty brilliant."

"Seriously? I know he's had other girlfriends."

"Of course, but..." he said, pausing. "I can't explain it. My mum sees it too. You make him happy."

"Wow, thank you. He's pretty wonderful."

"He's a good bloke. And despite my taste in women, so am I."

"I can tell, don't worry."

"Thank God."

Everything was dark at 2:00 am; clearly his parents had already gone to sleep for the night. I followed Campbell up to his bedroom, trying not to let the boards of the stairs creak with every step we took, but even with my shoes dangling from my fingertips, it was impossible to be silent.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

"Sorry," I whispered to Campbell, who chuckled under his breath. Obviously, he'd done the late night sneaky entrance many times and knew exactly where to step so as not to make noise. Me? Not so much.

When we got to his room, he closed the door and whispered, "Don't worry, my parents are heavy sleepers."

"Will your mom care if we sleep in the same bed? I want her to respect me."

"She won't care, don't worry. Europeans aren't nearly as, um, prudish as Americans."

"That's not very nice."

"It's the truth," he said with a shrug.

"Well, I'm not having sex with you under their roof. Call me a prude, I don't care. It's not happening."

"I can handle that," he said. "Let's get ready for bed. I'm exhausted."

"I bet you'll be sore in the morning after tearing up the dance floor like that," I snickered.

"You're jealous of my moves," he said, busting out a couple more robot movements as he passed me a t-shirt from his drawer. I could’ve unpacked some of my own pajamas, but wearing his things was a turn on.

"Good lord," I said, rolling my eyes and stripping down to my underpants, throwing the t-shirt over my head. It smelled like him. Mmmmm.

After brushing our teeth and washing up, we climbed into the tiny twin bed, snuggling as close as possible so that we didn't fall off the tiny mattress.

"I can go up top if you want."

"We'll see," I said. "I may have to go up there instead."

"Why?" he asked.

"Pam won't stop staring at me. She's creeping me out," I said, referring to the poster above our heads.

"Close your eyes, Auden.”

"Fine," I said, my head pressed to his chest. The last thing I remember was the deep sound of Campbell humming my song. I couldn't think of a better way to fall asleep.

"You look stunning," Campbell said, standing behind me as I gazed into the full length mirror mounted to his bedroom door. He planted a kiss on my shoulder and stood back, drinking my reflection in with his eyes.