When Stars Burn

Chapter Twelve: The Dirty

A/N: Hey everyone! Happy Valentine's Day! Hope you all get to celebrate—whether you're with someone or not, doesn't matter! Hey, you've got so many book boyfriends, don't you? LOL.

Here's another new chapter that might let you look in a little more into Star's slightly complicated past. And the heat is definitely up with her and Julian—this book is not the most wholesome of my work. LOL.

Enjoy!

***

"You're hurt," Selene commented when I first arrived at our usual spot on the hotel patio.

I've been hurting for a long time. Tell me something new.

"I banged my lip against a cupboard door I didn't see was open until I turned my face into it," I said smoothly, having practiced the lie a few times in my head already on my way over. I shrugged and dropped into the chair across from her.

"Do you need a doctor?" she asked, still looking very concerned.

I smiled faintly. "I've survived a busted lip before. Practice makes perfect."

I immediately regretted saying that, no matter how long I've been trying to cure myself of the tendency since it was just another waste of time.

Selene's eyes sparked with pain—as if she could feel every busted lip I'd just referred to—and I was uncomfortable in realizing that I hated hurting the old woman.

"I'm clumsy," I said casually to try to diffuse the gravity of my earlier admission.

Selene pressed her lips together into a thin line. "And you're creative with your truths. Sometimes, I'm not really sure if I want to hear all of them."

"Don't worry," I teased. "At this point, I can't tell the difference anyway."

The woman just sighed, glanced away into the distance as if some sort of relief was to be found there, before she turned back around and took a sip of her coffee. Her eyes were inspecting me briefly, skipping over the busted lip that I obviously didn't want to talk to her about.

We continued to eat in silence for a good while. The food was great as usual but I found my thoughts drifting back to memories of last night and the unexpected turn of events.

"What's wrong?"

I looked up from my plate of half-eaten eggs benedict and raised a brow. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

Selene's elegant profile—all graceful jawline and contoured cheekbones—barely moved even as her lips pressed into a thin line. Her pale, blue eyes narrowed slightly as she took her time to sip her coffee, her fine-boned, lightly wrinkled hand without a single tremor for someone her age.

I tamped down on my impatience, knowing it was going to go nowhere.

If you wanted Selene Walterson's time, it would be on her terms.

As wife to the late congressman Charles Walterson, and one of Cobalt Bay's most celebrated society darlings with a long history of philanthropy, Selene was used to getting her way. Anyone who didn't know that learned it quickly. A bit like me, ironically enough, despite the stark contrast of our backgrounds. It probably explains why we don't always rub along.

"You're preoccupied. And you've been smiling for no particular reason," Selene finally answered, raising a brow as if daring me to challenge her. "Just a half-smile, here or there, but it's there."

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from doing exactly as she'd accused and smile. "I didn't realize I never smiled in your presence before."