Page 14 of Rising Star

I fisted his shirt, my head spinning, as the scent of him invaded my nose, my body requiring his sturdiness to avoid falling over the edge. Our breaths mingled. Time slowed.

“I don’t like you hurting,” he whispered.

“I never meant to fall asleep.”

The jolt of his touch on my knee went straight to my center, and I moved my leg to the side to escape it.

Sam lifted his palm and rubbed it on the fabric of his black athletic shorts after adjusting his white tee. “Sorry.” His Adam’s apple bobbled, and he glared into the distance before bringing his eyes back to me. “You gotta treat those, or you’ll be in so much pain during the next few days. Do you have after-sun lotion or aloe?”

“No,” I said. “I’ll go and buy some.” My weak voice didn’t sound like mine.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll go. Take a cold shower while I’m gone.” He rose to his feet and half-spun on his heels to study me, his fists clenched beside him. The muscle of his jaw flexed. His eyes darkened. “What were you thinking sleeping in direct sunlight?” His tone had turned harsh. Why was he mad? First, I didn’t do it on purpose. I came out here to relax, not to get a second-degree burn. Second, I hurt myself and no one else. “Anyway. Go and shower. I’ll be back.” He yanked the door open, his stride long and heavy, his feet pounding on the hardwood floor. “Girls, get in the car. We’re leaving.” I heard some protests, but the door closed, and it drowned their words. I stood there, on the back deck, chills from the overdose of sun exposure traveling through me.

The front door shut, and the house vibrated.

Why was Sam upset with me? We shared a moment. Again. He was genuinely concerned. I could tell. And then he turned ice-cold.

Feeling skittish, I rushed to my room, undressed, and locked myself in the bathroom, the cold jets of the shower cooling my cooked flesh. The water eased some of the burning sensations.

I got out, a towel wrapped around me, just in time to hear a knock on my bedroom door.

Justine stood on the other side, a tube in her hand.

“Hey, what do you have there?”

She handed me the lotion. “It’s for you. Daddy said you gotta use this.” She gasped. “Why is your skin red? Are you sick? Do you want soup? Daddy always makes me chickling soup when I’m sick.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “Chicken soup, you mean.”

“Yesss. Chickling soup. Mika’s favorite. I’ll go and ask Daddy.”

I shook my head. “No. Your offer sounds nice, but I’m okay.” And I wouldn’t want to bother your father. He seems overly annoyed with me today.

“Come with me,” she said, pulling my hand.

“Just a minute. I’ll get dressed.”

“No time. I wanna show you what Daddy got for you.”

“For me?”

She nodded, her smile reaching both ears. “Yes. Come, it’s a surprise.”

With my other hand holding the towel firmly around my naked self, I followed her to the dining room.

On the wooden table, big enough to seat ten people, were a dozen different after-sun gels and creams.

“Whoa,” I said, missing the right words.

“Daddy said you can have them all because you have bad, bad, bad sunbrunes.”

“Sunburn, sweetie.”

She flipped her hand in the air like I was being silly.

I scanned the bottles, feeling a flush ascending my face. As if it could get any redder.

“I’ll try this one,” I said, picking an aloe-based gel.