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Starstruck  

 

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The dark silhouette of the house towered over me as I stood before it. The light, which had seemed welcoming from the beach, wasn’t as bright up close. From a window, a flickering orange glow seeped beyond the glass against the night. With an uneasy feeling in my belly and hesitant feet, I started to climb the stairs. 

I threw an awkward look down the darkened path that I had just arrived on, then turned my gaze back to the house. The stone walls and fenced in patio gave me the impression that whoever lived in this house was rich. But that ain't gonna make him or her friendlier, the little voice added. I hesitated. A sudden gust of wind threatened to fling me back down the stairs, and my wet clothes clung to my body. With a shiver, I raised a trembling hand to knock. 

The hard wood made my frozen knuckles ache as I tapped against it. When I had waited for what felt like an eternity, I gave the door a few more sharp raps. 

"Hello! Anyone home?” 

Thoughts raced through my mind. What if no one would come? What if I’d had to stay out here all night? What if—

The door swung open and a man appeared in the doorway. 

"Who the fuck are you?” He spoke in such a low voice that it was hard to hear him above the wind. 

"I'm sorry!" I began, taking a deep breath before opening my mouth to a somewhat incoherent ramble. “I was . . . my boat . . . there was an accident, then I saw the lights and . . .” I paused to suck in a trembling breath. "And I was hopin' I could come in for a while because it's really cold and I'm wet . . ." My ramblings once again trailed off and I swallowed down a lump in my throat. Why was he staring at me like that? 

"Did you follow me here?” he asked after a long silence. 

"What?" My mouth formed a little O as confusion swept over me, then it closed, letting out a scoff. What the hell? 

"What do you mean? I didn’t—why would I follow . . .” 

Tears burned behind my eyes. Was he just going to stare at me? What was his problem? 

“Come in." He held the door open and I hesitated before stepping inside. The wind slapped the door shut behind me with a force that shook the house. My heart leaped into my throat and I could barely hold back a scream. Sucking in a few deep breaths to calm my nerves, I looked around. We stood in a hallway. In the dim light, I studied the white walls. A panel of what looked like dark mahogany made a nice contrast to the stark white marble floor. It looked so smooth and shiny that it felt wrong to stand on it, especially with my wet clothes which were creating a puddle around my feet. 

To the right, an archway towered over us, and built into the opposite wall was a huge fireplace. In front of it sat a sofa, so nice and warm I had to keep myself from running straight up to it. I wrapped my arms around myself to keep my body from shaking. 

Then I finally glanced up at the man. He was taller than my five-foot-three, but not too tall. The first thing I saw in the dim light was his hair, dark and messy, almost touching his shoulders. He's hot, the little voice whispered in my mind, and I scoffed. Judging by what? His hair? I tried to shake the sudden need to touch said hair and forced my eyes to continue their path down his body. 

He wore a simple black t-shirt and loose-fitted jeans. Around his neck hung a scarf that reached almost down to his waist.

Letting my eyes travel back up his body to his face, I tried to get a better look at him. As I studied his shadow-ridden features I realized I hadn't introduced myself. Neither had he, and I got the impression he felt as uncomfortable as I did. I flashed him a nervous smile then opened my mouth to speak. 

"I'm Brianna, by the way. But you can call me Bree.” 

My voice seemed to snap him out of whatever thought he’d been lost in. 

"Johnny," he said. 

I could smell alcohol on his breath, and his voice was flat and clipped—as if saying his name was something he preferred not to do. 

Hearing the name, my mind immediately projected an image of one special Johnny Grey. Hollywood’s hottest actor who I was secretly in love with, and for a short moment, I lost myself in the thought. Then I remembered where I was, and snapped out of it, returning my focus to the man in front of me. 

He didn’t return my smile and muttered something I couldn’t hear. The message was clear—I wasn’t welcome. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, silently screaming at him to do something. Why was he just standing there? 

The seconds dragged by and the silence started to creep me out. I stared at him intently, hoping he would get the point. I was waiting here—a wet and shivering girl on his shiny marble floor. Still, he just stared at me as if he saw straight through me. 

“Uhm,” I began. “I’m still here.”

He ran a hand through his hair, and for a moment he seemed so confused I wanted to shake him in frustration. My sudden appearance had caught him off guard, but how hard could it be to show a little courtesy? 

“Yeah,” he mumbled. 

“I’m just goin' to stand here?” I added, not at all regretting the bitchy tone. What an asshole. 

“Sorry,” he said. "Let me get you a blanket." 

As I stared down the corridor he’d disappeared into, a feeling came over me. The way he looked: the hair, the clothes . . . he did seem somewhat familiar, didn’t he? And that voice . . . that name. 

Don't be stupid, my inner voice snapped. There's a lot of people with that name, it doesn't mean anythin'. Still, I couldn't shake the newfound feeling of nervousness.

The man came back after what felt like an eternity, carrying a blanket as he’d promised. 

He placed it around my shoulders, expecting me to take it. I couldn't move. 

"Are you all right?" 

I managed a stiff nod. As he entered the hallway, he'd switched on a lamp, but I knew before even looking at his face who this man was. Slowly I turned my head. What are the odds? I found myself thinking. Of all the islands to be washed ashore on, I ended up on HIS.

My eyes landed on his face and all I could do was stare, wide-eyed, with my mouth hanging open.

He turned an expressionless face toward me. Clearly, he was not surprised by my sudden reaction, and why would he be? 

His voice was nothing more than a tired sigh. "Come on." He placed an arm around my shoulders. I followed as if in a trance as he led me down the hallway. Turning left at the end of it he pushed open a door before guiding me into a bathroom that was bigger than a small apartment. 

Leaving me standing there, he disappeared again. I heard him in a room close by. He quickly returned carrying a bundle of clothes which he placed on a stool. He pressed a few buttons on what looked like a small pool embedded in the floor, and soon the water started pouring in, filling it with steaming hot bubbles.

"Here,” he gestured toward the tub. “Take a warm bath, get into some dry clothes, then come out when you're ready." 

With that said, he left and closed the door behind him. I stared at the water in shock. 

You're dead, you're obviously dead, the inner voice suggested. Maybe it was right? Maybe I had drowned and this was heaven? That would somehow seem more logical . . . My eyes scanned the surroundings, landing on the little pile of clothes Johnny had left on the stool. 

I finally managed to move. Wriggling out of my black sundress, I let it fall to the floor before quickly sliding into the bath. Throwing multiple quick glances at the closed door, I worried about him coming back. Maybe I should've locked it, even though it wasn't my door to lock. I was a guest. A very unwelcome guest, my inner voice added dryly. 
 

The hot water relaxed my sore muscles and slowed down my pulse enough for me to enjoy the feel of the warmth against my cold skin. As I lay there, my thoughts started to wander and I was once again stunned. If anyone had told me I would end up on Johnny Grey’s private island, I would have laughed. Even more unbelievable—I was alone on said island, with him. HIM, my all-time favorite actor—the sexiest man alive. It was too crazy to be true. I couldn't wrap my mind around this. I'd seen him, stared at him. I'd heard his voice as he’d talked directly to me. Hell, he'd even touched me, and even though my skin still burned from the contact, I couldn't accept it as my reality. It felt like a dream or a strange manifestation of my fantasies at the most. 

Letting the now cold water and myself out of the tub, I reached for a towel hanging on the nearest wall.

Dry and dressed in my borrowed clothes, I reached for the door, opened it, and stepped out into the corridor. As I stood there trying to decide what to do, my belly mass-produced butterflies. A few deep breaths didn’t calm them down. He'd told me to join him, but I was sure it had been out of politeness. The reason he came to this island in the first place was to get away from people, and here I was, invading his privacy when all he wanted was to be left alone. He had already made that perfectly clear. And you already called him an asshole, the little voice quickly reminded me. I mentally kicked myself for being stupid. Even if only uttering the words mentally, I still felt embarrassed knowing whom I’d had such thoughts about. 

Shit. This was actually happening.

The reality started to catch up, and in a few seconds, all the late reactions washed over me at once. My legs turned to jelly. I had to lean against the wall for support. 

A few steps away from me was one of the most famous people in the world. His face adorned every magazine; he topped the lists of sexiest men of the year, and I could not argue that. He was every girl's dream and the main object of my late-night fantasies. 

And he is right here, my mind added. The thought of it made my heart beat faster. Johnny Grey. The Johnny Grey. In person. Alone. With me. 

Shit. I reached for my hair, trying to fluff it up, but it was to no use since it was still wet and hanging down my back in a tangled mess. I shook my head at the absurdity. I get to meet the hottest guy on this planet, and I look like I've been chewed up and spat out. It felt like a sick joke. Normally I was proud of my long, red curls that glistened in the sun like a sparkling fire. Just my luck. I looked like shit, I could barely stand, and I hadn’t even gone to see him yet. 

The clothes which I had borrowed hung on my body in an unflattering way. They reminded me of what I used to wear at home when I didn't have to worry about looking pretty for anyone but my family and the horses. I sucked in deep breaths to keep from fainting; I desperately wished I could have been better prepared. 

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Having no other choice, I went to find him. The mere sight of him sitting by the fireplace once again rendered me speechless. The glow from the burning fire gave enough light to see him clearly and I did my best not to stare, and instead focused on the room. 

It was sparsely decorated. The massive black leather sofa was the main attraction. On a wooden table in front of it stood a group of empty bottles and one that was half full. A blanket had slid off the back of the sofa and lay forgotten in a pile on the floor. The lack of life and decor made me suspect that this house had never included a woman. Where were the plants? The candles? The cozy pillows, and the rugs? 

"Hey. Feeling better?” he asked.  

I managed a nod, inching closer to him and the sofa. He looked at me and the world stopped turning right then and there as if time stood still. I couldn’t breathe, nor move. It felt as though my feet had sprouted roots and were now attached to the floor. Those dark eyes which I had dreamed of gazing into were now locked on mine. 

God, he’s gorgeous, the voice in my mind swooned. Just look at him. I didn't just look; I was drowning in those eyes. The butterflies in my belly multiplied and spread until my whole body tingled with a feeling I couldn’t understand or explain. My belly twisted and clenched, sending small electrical impulses through my body. Breathe, the little voice screamed. Get a hold of yourself. My face burned with heat and chills ran down my spine. 

Countless times had I imagined actually standing face to face with him. Hell, I had pictured it in a million different ways, but never had I imagined he would have this impact on me. I couldn’t even remember how to breathe, and the tiniest movement from him made my belly go wild. 

My ears started to ring and a white fog crept into my mind. Breathe, the little voice tried to call to me from somewhere far away. 

I averted my eyes, sucking in a few deep breaths and the fog lifted.  

He cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if he hadn’t noticed I had almost passed out at his feet, or if he simply decided to pretend it hadn’t happened. I blushed for a whole new reason this time. Stupid, the voice muttered. Now what will he think of you? I cringed, swallowing down an imagined lump in my throat. 

“Uh, Brianna?” His voice was hesitant, and I looked back at him, this time careful to avoid eye contact. He played with a loose thread of his jeans and I shivered and burned under his scrutiny. 

He seemed to think, chewing the corner of his lower lip while furrowing his eyebrows. Breath once again caught in my throat. How many times had I drooled over his pictures, imagining how it would feel to kiss those lips.

“Just gonna stand there?” 

His husky voice made my heart skip a beat, and I sucked in a sharp breath from the sudden feeling, then flashed him a nervous smile. 

“I uh—” The words caught in my throat as I tried to speak. I tried again and finally managed to whisper. ”You’re okay with this . . . me?”

He nodded, patting the space next to him on the sofa. Following his every movement with my eyes, they stopped on the well-known tattoo on his lower arm. The anchor with a rope curling around it. I had seen it in millions of pictures, but never had I imagined actually seeing it for real. I gulped, trying to ignore the tingling in my body and my racing heart. 

"I guess I could use some company.” 

Judging from his flat voice and the somber look on his face, I wasn't convinced he’d told me the truth. 

I forced my shaking legs to take me to the sofa. “Thank you." 

He studied my face and I tried to remember how to breathe. I hoped that he liked what he saw. Normally people considered me pretty; I'd heard plenty say it. What they saw in me that was so appealing, I didn't know. The hair, yes, I could understand that, but hair alone didn't make one beautiful. I was certain there was more to it than that. And now when I needed it the most, not even the hair could be worth looking at. Maybe the heart-shaped face with a slight spray of freckles over my nose and cheekbones, or the green eyes added some beauty to my otherwise pale complexion. I hoped so since it was all I had to offer him at the moment. My natural beauty, at its worst. 

“Whiskey?” 

The question provided a much needed relief to my anxiety. 

“Sure.” I would’ve preferred wine, but at this moment I was sure I needed something stronger. Just sitting there, stealing glances at him was enough to make me tremble. Those high cheekbones and that sharp jawline were so much sexier in real life. I wondered if he noticed what being this close to him did to me. But then again, I was sure the almost-faint-spell I had thrown just minutes ago had informed him of that. 

I took the glass he offered me without dropping it or spilling its contents, and gulped it down immediately.

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This was going to be a long night ...  

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