How a Star Falls Read Free Page B

out laughing. “Fine, fine. Need some help?”
    She crossed her arms as he pushed off the car and held out his hand to her. A baby started crying and someone else’s car door slammed, but she didn’t make him wait too long. Satisfaction swept through his fingers when she placed her soft hand in his.
    He pulled her up—slowly enough for her to wedge her crazy dress through the opening. When she finally stood firmly on the pavement, she glanced up at him. Her nearness felt...comfortable. Like she fit with him, in his care.
    He reached around her to close the passenger door. “This way.” Her presence shadowed him as softly as starlight as he led the way down the sidewalk, up the stairs, and into his apartment.
    With a flick of the light switch, his crappy little space lit up like the sun rising over a dump. Yeah, he had forgotten to take out the trash last night...and vacuum up the crumbs by the couch...and refrigerate the leftover Top Ramen. Oh gosh—really?
    He rushed over to the stove and stared down into the pot of congealed noodles, practically glowing orange like some sort of radioactive spill. Opening cabinets until he found some Tupperware, he then grabbed a container and lifted the pot.
    “Are you really going to save that?”
    Brielle had swept closer while he had frantically run around the kitchen. She glanced around his shoulder, a look of pure disgust wrinkling her forehead and causing her lips to purse. It was cute.
    The pot grew heavy in his hand, and he glanced back at the nastiness stuck to the bottom. Why was he bothering to salvage it? Flustered, he carried the pot to the trash, grabbing a big spoon on the way so he could pry out as much as possible. The rancid meat smell pouring out of the trash can as he lifted the lid—combined with the perfume-y scent of the trash liner—made him want to gag. Welcome to our apartment.
    After he emptied the pot of most of the noodles, he took it to the sink and caught sight of Brielle on the other side of the kitchen island. She ran her hand over the top of the sofa. By the way she gazed in awe—or horror—at everything, she was doing a very good job of looking like she’d never seen an apartment before. Of course, no girl ought to see an apartment like this.
    She wandered over to the stereo, and he rounded the island to join her. “It plays music,” he joked, sure that she would roll her eyes at him.
    “Oh?” was all she said.
    He couldn’t see her face as she stared at the machine; couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. Not that she could be one-hundred percent serious, though—he was sure of that.
    She turned, tucking some hair behind her ear as she clutched the edge of the table and leaned back against it. “Will you play a song for me?”
    Why not? He crouched down in front of the CD stand and started crossing off titles in his mind as he went. Too dark. Too loud. Too obnoxious. Too emotional. Too embarrassing.
    His gaze snagged on an Owl City CD—another gift from one of his sisters. Perfect. This one was from last Christmas, as his family hadn’t taken the hint that he might be interested in some new styles. Suddenly, though, he was glad for it—for something upbeat and innocent and fun.
    He plucked the case out of its slot and flipped it over to read the song list. Right there near the top, the words “Shooting Star” flashed at him. He grinned as he opened the case and pushed the CD into the stereo, choosing the second track.
    A soft electronic melody filled the room, beckoning them to let go of their cares—the gravity of the world. Derrick met Brielle’s gaze and grinned.
    Her answering smile lit the dingy room. In an instant, she raced around the couch into the open space before the TV and performed an exuberant twirl, the cloud of her skirt floating around her. He blinked, and then she was reaching toward the ceiling, jumping and bobbing in time to the beat. Acting as if some huge wedding party had crashed his apartment.
    And she