Suddenly Starstruck (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective Book 4) Page 5

  Isabel looked at me with a confused expression.

  "Just whatever you want to draw," I said.

  She went to work, hunched over a piece of paper that was sitting on the coffee table, and I smiled at Ethan.

  "Tabitha will be out in just a minute, and we can do whatever."

  He grinned as he leaned back on the couch. "I thought we were already doing whatever."

  "I always thought if I ever got in this situation, I'd do something really memorable and maybe even touristy like go up the Empire State Building or go ice skating. Horseback riding."

  "I'm not sure exactly what you're saying, but I think you might have just said you want to take me ice skating."

  "Not you specifically—just any guy in the dream date category. In my imaginings of myself with someone like you at my disposal, I always have something great and memorable planned, and then I'll have a photo album of it afterward to prove what a great time we had. I rarely picture someone like you waiting around in my dirty apartment while I give Isabel a bath."

  "You keep saying someone like me," he said. "And I would rather think of you imagining specifically me. And your apartment's not dirty," he added, looking around before focusing on me again.

  "Thank you," I said. "But you asked me why I said I was sorry, and it's because I feel bad that you're just sitting here on my couch."

  "Why would you feel bad about that? I'm happy on your couch. It's a very comfortable couch." I could see in my periphery that Isabel looked at Ethan and smiled when he said that.

  "I am happy about making your dream date category, though," Ethan said, stretching casually.

  I smiled and shook my head at him as my heart continued to pound. "You're in everyone's dream date category."

  "Am I?"

  I nodded. "Don't act like you don't know you are."

  "I didn't know there was such a thing."

  I nodded again.

  His knee was still brushing my leg, and I glanced at the point where they touched before making eye contact with him again. I cleared my throat.

  "I told hew what you said about youe was gonna kiss hew," Isabel said timidly from her place at the coffee table.

  We both looked at her, but her regretful gaze was focused on Ethan. "I told Aunt Macy what you said," she repeated. "I twied to tell my mom, but Aunt Macy heawd me because she was wight thewe."

  Ethan gave Isabel a silly, terror-filled expression that made her laugh.

  "What'd she say when you told her?" Ethan asked, carrying on the conversation like I wasn't sitting there.

  Isabel smiled and shook her head. I couldn't tell if she was just too shy to say or didn’t know what he was asking, either way, I was glad she didn't answer him.

  "I've been checking out your art," Ethan said. He was talking to me, but Isabel assumed he was talking to her, so she picked up the drawing she was working on, and held it up for his inspection. "That's awesome," he said sweetly, causing her to give him a satisfied smile as she put her paper down again.

  "How about my art?" I asked, knowing he was talking to me in the first place.

  "I've been checking out your art, too," Ethan said, getting back to his original statement. "Is all of this yours?" he sat up on the edge of the couch so he could turn and take in the piece that was hanging on the wall behind the couch.

  "Zoe did this one, actually." I paused and looked around. "That skateboard over there is mine, but everything else you see in here is other people's stuff. My friends, mostly."

  "Aunt Macy's got a bunch of tings in hew woom if you want to see hew awtwowk."

  "I was checking out that skateboard," he said. "That's my favorite thing in here. I've seen skateboards hanging on the wall as paintings; I even have one. But they don't normally have the wheels attached—usually it's just the deck."

  I smiled. "I know, but I'm not a skateboard painter—not as a specialty at least. I paint found objects, so I just left the skateboard the way it was when I bought it, with the wheels on."

  "Which is it?" he asked. "Did you find it, or did you buy it?"

  "Both. I found it, and then I bought it."

  "When you said found objects it made me think you only paint things you find in the dumpster."

  I shook my head and smiled as a series of thoughts crossed my mind. "When I first started out painting unconventional objects, I used to say I would only paint things that I found. I think I took pride in trying to search for something that had been discarded. I thought it was cooler that way." I smiled and took a deep breath. "I struggled for a while with trying to find good things to paint, and then I realized that was pointless because there was nothing wrong with me paying for something. Other artists pay for their canvases, after all. So, yes, I still call what I do painting found objects, but really, it's stuff I buy."

  "Did you finish the glove?" he asked. "The one you were knitting."

  I shook my head. "I'm scared of that thing. I haven't made a stitch on it since the last time you saw it."

  "Whew! That feels better," Tabitha said, coming out of the hallway with wet hair and a clean change of clothes.

  "That was fast," I said.

  "Thank you so much for watching her," Tabitha said, plopping next to me on the couch in a relieved manner.

  "Ethan, did you meet my sister?" I asked.

  "I did. I met Tabitha when she first came in."

  Tabitha smiled at him before inspecting her daughter's artwork. "What are you drawing, little peanut?"

  Isabel picked up her paper to show Tabitha what she was doing and they exchanged smiles.

  "I'm pooped," Tabitha said.

  "Why'd they make you stay so long?" I asked.

  She breathed a tired sigh. "The district manager's in town. He's having us do inventory, and he's pretty uptight about everything, so it was a long day."

  "What's uptight?" Isabel asked.

  "He's really strict," Tabitha explained. "Are you planning on going out?" she added, focusing on me.

  I glanced at Ethan who smiled at my sister. "She wants me to take her ice skating, but I'm not sure if it's still open," Ethan said. "And I don't know the first thing about ice skating, so I might break my leg doing that, anyway." His smile was so gorgeous that a buzzing sensation happened in my chest.

  "You want to go ice skating?" Tabitha asked me. She was obviously in a state of still being perplexed by all of this. I smirked at Ethan who grinned and reached out to mess up my hair. I dodged his efforts and stuck my tongue out at him, which caused his smile to broaden. He was flat out flirting, and it was glorious.

  "As much as I'd like to sit out here with you guys, I have to go read a story and put Izzy to bed," Tabitha said. "If you guys end up going anywhere, I've heard good things about that pastry place on the corner." She smiled at me and shrugged one shoulder. "And it's not just because I want you to bring me something chocolate when you come home. It's not that at all."

  "But if I happen to pick up something chocolate and it makes its way into the fridge…" I said.

  She smiled. "I'll probably assume it's mine and eat it."

  "For some reason, I just got a sudden urge to have dessert," Ethan said.

  "You really don't have to do that," Tabitha said. "I'm just teasing my sister about chocolate because we're both chocoholics. And Cinnamon. You can't go wrong with either of those."

  "We better get enough tasty treats for any kids who might happen to live in this house, too." Ethan said.

  "Especially if it's something cookies and cream," I added, knowing that was Isabel's favorite.

  Isabel, who was still working on her drawing, peeked at Ethan out of the corner of her eye and smiled, waiting to hear what he'd say next. He stood with a groan before reaching out to help me to my feet. I was already in the process of standing when he offered me a hand, so I grabbed his a bit awkwardly as I stood.

  "It's time to go read a story, my little angel," Tabitha said to Isabel. "Tell Aunt Macy and Ethan goodnight."

 
"Night, and I'm almost done wight now," Isabel replied, inspecting her own work. "Wait… and… thewe." She colored the last pedal of the flower and handed the finished product to Ethan with a huge smile. It was a picture of a person and a flower, just like we said.

  "I love it," Ethan said, staring at the paper.

  "It's you," she said.

  He smiled and nodded. "I knew it was."

  "Because of the haiw?" she asked seriously.

  Ethan did his best not to smile as he looked at the character's hair, which was three single sprigs coming out of the top of his head.

  "It was the hair that gave it away," Ethan said seriously. "I like to put product in mine so it looks like this."

  She nodded proudly.

  "Tell them goodnight," Tabitha said.

  "Goodnight," Isabel said.

  "Night, Izzy-Bizzy," I said, hugging her.

  "Is Efan gonna bwing me cookies and cream?" she whispered when I squeezed her.

  "Yeah, but you have to eat it tomorrow," I whispered. "I'll put it in the fridge."

  Isabel smiled as she broke the hug, and then she waved at Ethan as she followed her mom into their bedroom.

  Chapter 7

  The pastry shop was not only open, but there was a guy with a guitar doing a singer-songwriter set in the corner. Ethan had a recognizable face, and he caused a bit of a stir when we first arrived. Three different people asked him for pictures by the time we made it to the counter.

  One of the employees noticed the commotion and came around the counter, helping us discreetly find an out of the way table where no one would bother us. He stood at our table and talked to us for a moment while the buzz died down. He introduced himself as Chris, and he took our order at the table even though this wasn't a place that offered that service.

  I stared at Ethan with a stunned expression once our pastry representative took off. "Can we just take a second to appreciate that it's making these people's night to see you right now? They're still looking at us," I added in a really low tone without moving my mouth.

  Ethan laughed. "Just don't worry about it," he whispered using that same bad ventriloquist method I had used.

  I stared at him from across the tiny table, feeling unable to think of anything good to say.

  "You inspired me," he said.

  "How so?" I asked.

  "With the talent thing," he said.

  I breathed a laugh and shook my head shyly.

  "Really, you did," he said. "I know we laugh about the food-catching thing, but really, I thought about what you said, and I think it's a good concept. It's good to learn new things. I personally started working on my first new talent this morning."

  I couldn't stop a nervous, delighted giggle from escaping my lips. I laughed, imagining what Ethan could possibly have began learning.

  "I just told you that last night."

  He smiled. "I know. That's why I started this morning. I told you I was inspired."

  "That makes me feel so good," I said. "What'd you do? Did you take a lesson at something?"

  He nodded with a completely serious expression. "YouTube. It might sound stupid, but I grew up in a family of jocks, always challenging each other with sports and games, and how far can you throw or kick this or that. But none of us could ever do a Rubik's cube. We've had a few of them over the years, but they always just sit in the game cabinet looking all jumbled up. My brother took the stickers off of one and tried to glue them back on one time, which obviously didn't work. Anyway, I've always wanted to pick it up and legitimately solve it like it was no problem, and you inspired me to learn."

  "So did you do it?" I asked, still grinning.

  He nodded. "I did it one and a half times today, but it still takes me a long time to get through all the steps. The first time, I just kept rewinding the tutorial, but then I realized I had to write the steps down so I could just look at them on a piece of paper."

  I stared at him. This larger than life, dashingly handsome television icon was telling me with all sorts of humble vulnerability that he wrote down the steps to solving a Rubik's cube. Moreover, he was saying that it was me who had inspired him to do it.

  "Oh, my gosh, that's the sweetest thing ever," I said. "I'm so proud of you."

  "By the time I go back home for Christmas, I'll have the steps memorized," he said.

  I beamed at the fact that he had a plan. "You're gonna have to buy one of your little cousins a Rubik's cube as a present just to make sure there's an opportunity to live out your dreams."

  He laughed. "My mom's got one in the closet, but you better believe I'll be taking another one just in case."

  I was still smiling at the whole exchange when the pastry guy arrived with drinks and desserts. "I need to order a few things in a to-go box, if you don't mind," I said.

  "But we're not in a hurry," Ethan added.

  He and I were in the middle of sharing a conspiratorial smile when the pastry guy cleared his throat. "The owner told me to tell you thanks for coming by, Mr. Prescott, and that these will be on the house tonight."

  "Give the owner my thanks, Chris. Everything looks great," Ethan said in a wonderfully well-rehearsed way that made it obvious that he often received such treatment. "We'll take care of the lady's to-go order in a half hour or so."

  Chris nodded and started to bow and turn away, but then he reluctantly came back. "I heard a group of people by the counter say they were planning on approaching you about a picture. I didn't know if I should tell them you'd like your privacy."

  Chris hadn't even finished talking when the group he'd been referring to came to stand behind him, looking anxious and excited to speak to Ethan. There were two grown women and three teenagers who looked to be their daughters—five of them in total, and all of them were grinning from ear to ear and staring straight at Ethan with red cheeks and watering eyes. Ethan took a picture with the ladies, but Chris stuck around for the whole thing and was quick with asking them to let Ethan finish his dessert. He did it in such a way that others standing around took it as a hint and didn't approach.

  Ethan and I sat there and talked without interruptions for a while after that. We both had a love for nature, so we spoke about that for a while before changing the subject to that of being an artist. He and I were completely different types of artists, but we both had creative occupations, thus we could relate to each other on that level. Putting your creative work into the hands of others to be loved or hated could be both a blessing and a curse, and this was a common ground we shared even though our arts were completely different.

  We did a lot of talking in our short time at the pastry shop, but new people had come in, and the patience level of Ethan's adoring fans was beginning to wane. I could see that four or five potential groups were about to approach him. I began to feel boxed in simply by the way they were all whispering and staring at us.

  We got up from our table as soon as Chris came back with the boxed desserts. We only ordered three things, but he brought a bag with five or six boxes and a few cookies in plastic bags on the top. We thanked him, and Ethan handed him a fifty-dollar bill before we started toward the door. Two groups stopped Ethan for pictures on our way out.

  It felt to me as if a few of those women at the pastry shop would have been curious enough to follow us down the sidewalk if we left on foot, so it didn't surprise me when Ethan hailed a cab even though my apartment building was on the same block. He asked the driver to make a few blocks before dropping us off in front of my building.

  "Is it always like that?" I asked as we rode up the elevator to my apartment.

  "It depends on where I go. Also, it helps if I have on a cap. I hardly get recognized in a baseball cap."

  We got off the elevator and took a few steps in companionable silence before I stopped at my apartment door.

  "Do you want to come in?" I asked.

  He smiled. "I thought I would," he said. "I wanted to see your art and try to buy that skateboard off of you."


  I shook my head, knowing if anyone had the ability to make me let go of the skateboard, it was Ethan.

  We were quiet as we entered the apartment. Tabitha and Isabel were nowhere to be seen, so we were both quiet. Ethan handed me the pastry bag, which I stashed in the refrigerator, and then he followed me to the door that led to my room. I turned around when I got to it, and instead of opening it, like we both assumed I would do, I turned and placed my back against it.

  "My room's an even bigger mess than the rest of the apartment," I warned.

  Ethan had been expecting me to open the door, so he had forward momentum, and he unintentionally crowded my space. I took a deep hitching breath at his sheer proximity, and he smiled down at me like he didn't regret what was happening. I could tell he was amused by how flustered I was. The closer he loomed, the more overwhelmed I felt. He was several inches taller than me, and I felt mesmerized as I stared up at him. I held my breath, and just like that, he kissed me. He gave me an easy smile, and, in one motion, he leaned in to kiss me while reaching behind me to open my bedroom door only a second after our lips touched.

  The door opening behind me startled me into breaking the kiss. I needed to break the kiss. Somehow, Ethan had managed to sneak in a kiss and find his way into my room all at one time, and I was left feeling breathless and confused while he stepped into my room, giving me that handsome, playful half grin. How was he so calm? The kiss and subsequent entrance into my room had all happened so quickly that I was left feeling dazed and wondering if there had even been a kiss at all.

  "This is not a mess," he said, coming to stand inside my room and looking around.

  I felt like a buzzing heap of nerves on the inside, and I prayed that I was able to shake it off and act normal. "Did you kiss me just now?" I asked.

  He squinted at me. "That forgettable?"

  "That fast."

  He smiled and shrugged it off, looking around my room. There was indeed a pile of T-shirts on my bed that had been laid straight, but still needed to be folded, and that was the least of my worries. Countless art pieces and supplies were scattered on every available surface. It wasn't dirty in a gross way, but my room was small, and there was art literally everywhere.