Chapter Three
NATE
Matt continues to grin at me as we stand in our burgundy kitchen. It’s annoying because he hasn’t stopped since we left the office.
“What?” I ask, and he chuckles.
“Well, you were quite cozy with our little A-lister, weren’t you, Nathaniel?”
I furrow my brows and frown. “Fuck off! Just ’cause you weren’t the center of attention for once, you can leave me the hell alone.”
“Okay, Snappy Stan, cheer the fuck up. Did she reject you already or something?”
Annoyed, he automatically assumes she’d reject me, I roll my eyes. “No, she didn’t reject me. In fact, I got her number. So go annoy someone else.”
“Oooh, Nate’s gonna get into an Oscar winner’s panties.”
I groan. “Jesus, Matt, is that all you think about? She’s a person, you know.
Not just some fucking pussy to throw around.
” After my little outburst, I storm past him toward the staircase that juts out into the open-plan living room.
Grabbing hold of the wooden banister, my feet pound heavily on the wooden steps, which look like they’re floating up to the mezzanine level.
“Nate, c’mon… I was only kidding,” Matt calls out as I head past the pool table and toward my bedroom.
“Whatever,” I mumble so he can’t hear me, and continue stomping to my room.
I really don’t want to tell him Zaria’s figured out my secret, and if I had stuck around for his bullshit, I would have probably caved.
It’s a secret I hold close and away from prying eyes.
Every damn night, I drown in it, letting it consume me.
It’s easier for me if people see me as the outcast, the loser—a perfect ruse to hide how stupid I really am.
The deep chocolate walls of my room do nothing to lift my somber mood as I flop down onto my massive king-size bed.
Sinking into the mattress, my thoughts drift to Zaria and just how stunning she is.
But it’s more than her looks—there’s something about her that pulls me in, something intriguing beneath the surface.
I realize I actually want to get to know her, to understand who she really is.
With her offer to teach me to read, maybe I’ll get that chance. Maybe, through this, I’ll get to see the real Zaria.
***
After a restless sleep last night, I’m supposed to be going into the office with the guys today, but honestly, I can’t be bothered. Anything to do with the band, whether it’s talking music or playing
it right now, doesn’t interest me. For some reason, I have Zaria on my brain, and all I want is to talk to her.
As I roll over in my bed, my cell stares at me. I swallow hard, debating whether or not I should follow through with the idea circulating through my mind.
After some arguing with myself, I decide, fuck it.
Picking up my cell, I scroll through my contacts to find her number.
After she saved it, I added a little dove symbol next to her name to make it stand out.
It’s something I’ve always done with everyone’s contact—adding an icon beside their name to help me tell one from the next.
It’s a small trick that makes everything clearer and easier, a way to keep everything in check at a glance.
And somehow, that little dove feels right for her.
For instance, Matt is a rhino, Danger is a skull-and-crossbones, Ryan is a monkey, Tillie is a pair of glasses, and Lunar is a pink motorbike. I work best in pictures. But then again, I guess it’s the only way it can work, seeing as I can’t read the fricking names.
So why a dove? I’m not entirely sure, but I feel a sense of peace when I’m around her. Even though Zaria finding out about my inability to read had me internally panicking at first, there’s something about her that’s calming.
I’m not completely illiterate. I can work out some things, like some small words, but only a few simple ones. In no way could I string a sentence together. For a twenty-six-year-old, I know that’s pretty fucking lame. It’s no wonder I have such a complex.
Looking at the dove on the screen, I hope talking with Zaria will make me feel better. She wanted to catch up anyway to tutor me, so why not get the ball rolling right now?
The phone rings only a couple of times when she answers, “Hello?”
“Ah, hey, Zaria…”
“Nate?” she replies as if she’s unsure.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
She lets out what sounds like a bemused laugh. “Ha, guys never call. It’s always a text message.”
“Well, I can’t text…” I let out a nervous laugh. “Words and all, you know the drill.” There’s a slight pause before I continue, “So, ah, would you like to do something today?”
“What, like a date?” she quickly clarifies.
Wow! That got serious real quick.
I laugh nervously, running my hand through my hair and sitting up on the edge of my bed. “Ah… it can be. Or it can be two people catching up. Whatever you’re more comfortable with?”
“Um…” There’s a small pause. “Can we go with option two first? Just… let’s keep this as friendship, nothing more.”
Her words sting, but I force myself to take it on the chin, swallowing hard before managing to respond. “Okay. What do you wanna do?”
“Why don’t you come to my place? We can have a dip in the pool, have some food, watch some TV, and hang out?”
A small smile reaches my lips, and I take a deep breath. “That sounds awesome.”
She gives me her address, which I memorize before hanging up. Then I pull on my swim trunks and walk down the stairs.
Matt’s in the kitchen and looks up at me as I enter the room. “You heading into the office?”
“Nah, not going in today. We’re not recording or doing anything important. You’ll manage without me.”
Matt jolts his head back in shock as his eyes widen. “Where are you going then?”
As I pass the kitchen bar, I grab an apple and decide not to tell him, then turn around and walk out the door toward the garage.
I slide into my car and turn on the Bluetooth hands-free navigation system.
I speak the Hollywood Hills address into it, and it plots a navigation route for me to follow.
I love that I can talk into it and it sets the course so easily, since obviously I can’t type it in.
Technology like this makes it easy for me to live, and I’m grateful for that.
After a short drive, I pull up a steep embankment and go to a fenced-off area where a security team mans the fence. I raise my brows as they walk toward my car. Pressing the down button on my electric window, I wonder what the fuck’s going on.
A shaved-headed Jersey Shore-looking guy lifts his dark glasses to stare me down. “Are you the artist formerly known as Nate?”
I give a curt nod, then chuckle as the Jersey dude stands back up and gestures to his counterpart, who types something into the gate console, and both gates swing wide open.
This all seems so official, but then again, Zaria is a massive movie star, and I guess she needs this type of security around her. After all, she’s way more famous than I am.
Jersey waves me on, so I accelerate, kicking up some stones, and drive through the massive black wrought iron gates, continuing up the long drive.
The driveway curves and is made up of what appears to be cream cobblestones, but right in the middle, toward the end, as I reach the mansion, is a gigantic Z in black script.
It’s quite impressive, even if a bit over the top.
The driveway then curves around a massive fountain with a small green hedge, where I park.
I’m pretty sure this fountain is probably bigger than my fucking bedroom, and my fucking bedroom is enormous.
Shaking my head at the opulence, I get out of the car and walk up the marble staircase to the incredible white double doors.
“Fucking hell,” I murmur, taking in the expensive appeal of this mansion. It’s not like I can’t afford something like this. It’s just never occurred to me to even want this type of luxury. And let’s face it, this might actually cost me most of my savings.
I almost don’t want to step on anything, including the stairs, in case I fucking break them. There’s not one thing I’ve looked at that doesn’t appear like it could cost anything less than six figures. Apparently, by the looks of this shit, no expense was spared.
I gently rap my knuckles on the door, trying not to knock too hard. I don’t want to break that either. My heart races so fast that I feel a little lightheaded. Sure, I knew she was worth a lot of money, but knowing it and seeing it are two entirely different things.
I have a bucket load of money, but fuck, Zaria’s got to be worth billions.
The door swings open, and my eyes open so largely that I must look like a fucking idiot as she stands there wearing a see-through sarong and a white bikini underneath.
It shows her perfectly toned body and leaves little to the imagination.
My cock twitches in my shorts, and I have to think of toads and mud to try to stop myself from getting a full-on boner while checking her out.
“You never seen a girl in a white bikini before, Nate?”
I smirk. “Sure, but you rock it so much better than them.”
She steps aside for me to walk through. She’s holding a drink, and the first thing I notice is the glass has a straw, a colorful straw that is twisted in the shape of a love heart.
“You certainly love your straws!”
She swallows hard, then fakes a smile. “I’ve used them ever since I was a kid.”
Zaria turns and walks away, effectively ending the conversation.
Okay then!
I step through the door fully, close it behind me, and casually look around.
The place is a letdown once you get inside.
I was expecting it to be opulent and extravagant, but it’s basically pristine white furniture and marble floors.
I mean, it’s nice, but it’s not the glamor Zaria portrays—the diva she depicts herself to be.