All Stars Fall (Seaside Pictures #3.5)(13)

And I stood at the sink like a dick for another ten minutes before grabbing a few board games for the kids and setting them up at the kitchen table with ice cream.

Once they were all settled with Guess Who, I grabbed my phone and walked into the living room.

Me: I’m sorry. That came out wrong.

I could tell she was typing.

Why the hell was I sweating?

Maybe because she was beautiful, and I’d been ignoring that fact for the last twenty-four hours even while I was caught staring at her during dinner.

Maybe because I’d lashed out.

I groaned and ran a hand through my messy hair.

Penelope: That’s okay. I don’t want you to think I’m intruding on your family in any way. Boundaries are good. I’ll be more professional, I promise.

Shit.

I didn’t want professional.

I wanted…

If the guys could see me now.

I wanted a damn adult friend.

I wanted someone I could talk to about my kids.

I was…lonely.

Funny how you can be surrounded by fame, fortune, people shouting your name, and you still feel like the most isolated person on the planet.

Me: God no, please don’t. If one more person smiles at me and tells me it’s going to be okay I’m going to lose my mind. I need more adult friends who aren’t happy bandmates or people who want something from me. Sorry, overshare.

Penelope: That’s not an overshare. And I get you. I just moved here, remember?

Me: Is this the point in the conversation that I ask if we can maybe hang out? As adults sometime? Not a date.

Great, I really was going to die alone with my drumsticks clutched in my hand. Music would be my mistress. Fantastic. The guys always did tease me about music being more important than anything.

But they didn’t know. It was the only thing that never let me down. It was my constant. I needed it like I needed air to survive.

Penelope: Hah don’t worry I’m a good adult friend. I’m an even better friend because I won’t hit on you. I don’t date famous people. I don’t want anything to do with the spotlight. I’ve seen what Dani goes through. I mean, not that you’d be interested. That came out wrong. My turn to apologize…

I grinned down at my phone.

Me: You mean you didn’t have a poster of me in your bedroom when you were fourteen? I’m almost insulted.

Penelope: I may never show my face again. Guilty. One poster, but I was more of an Andrew girl.

Me: You’re fired.

Penelope: But the drummer and sometimes lead vocalist did have a really great…

I could have sworn I started to sweat. What was I? A teenager again? Not that I’d even dated much, I was too petrified I’d somehow knock up a groupie or end up in the tabloids.

Me: Great?

Penelope: Beat ;) He had a great beat, nice hair too, teeth— Me: Are you trying to bruise my ego?

Penelope: Is it working?

Me: No, not really. I saw you staring at my abs today.

Penelope: OMG who just changes in front of strangers! You deserved that! I didn’t know where to look, okay?

I burst out laughing.

“Dad? Someone here?” Eric called.

“No, no, sorry just, something funny….on Facebook,” I lied.

“Can you come help us? Bella wants to keep playing, but she keeps guessing wrong on purpose.”

“Do not!” Bella yelled.

“Do too!” the boys said in unison.

I sighed.

Apparently I was done texting a beautiful woman.

Shit.

A beautiful woman who was watching my kids.

Who I had no business involving myself with.

Who had just agreed to be my platonic friend.

I quickly typed out a message so she wouldn’t think I’d left her hanging.

Me: Kids are calling and sorry about changing in front of you. Next time I’ll ask permission. Not that there will be a next time. I think I need a re-do of this conversation. See you tomorrow, Penny.

I didn’t realize until I was lying in bed that night, with Bella and her black T-shirt on my right and Malcom on my left with his purple teddy and Eric with his mouth open snoring..

We’d already given her a nickname.

And it had only been two days.

A handful of hours.

And for some stupid reason I refused to rationalize, I fell asleep with a smile on my face.





Chapter Seven



Penelope




The next day at the coffee shop, I found myself checking my phone like someone obsessed.

It wasn’t even that I was expecting him to text me.

It was one hundred percent that I wanted him to.

That I liked talking with him.

And that was a problem.

I decided to text my best friend Fallon from back home. Maybe she’d at least have some stellar advice even if the advice was for me to stop acting like a teenager waiting for a phone call.

Me: So I may be working for someone famous, not the plan, remember the band Adrenaline?

Fallon wasted no time.

Fallon: TELL ME EVERYTHING, and I thought you were working at a coffee shop. In fact you sent me a picture of you at that very coffee shop yesterday morning? Did you quit? Why aren’t you keeping me updated? Also if you don’t respond asap you’re dead.