ADA

"Wow!" I blink, turning in a slow circle in the middle of Liam's living room, trying to take it all in.

The city sparkles beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, which take up the entirety of both the north and west walls. Exposed beams run the length of the ceiling, giving it a chic, industrial vibe. A squishy brown leather sofa rests in the center with two matching armchairs on either side surrounding the world's largest coffee table. Glass doors lead out to an enormous patio, filled with trees and shrubbery.

A painting dominates one of the exposed brick walls. Iconic actors are painted in strokes of gray on a white canvas, making it look like a page torn out of someone's sketchbook. I recognize Humphrey Bogart, Marlon Brando, Gregory Peck, and James Dean.

"I can't believe you live here," I say.

"This place is all right." Liam comes up behind me and kisses my cheek.

"All right? Yeah, and the Empire State Building is kind of okay."

Liam chuckles. "Make yourself at home. I'm going to get dinner going."

"How very grown up of you." I turn around, winding my arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. He tastes like spearmint gum and seems so relaxed and happy. All traces of the broken boy I saw at the diner earlier are gone.

Briggs clears his throat behind us. Whoops. I'd completely forgotten he was here.

"I'm going to make myself scarce," Briggs says. "I'll be in the other room watching The...um, watching the game."

"Thanks so much, Briggs," I say. "You're a rockstar." The way he corralled the photogs outside my building when he picked me up tonight and kept them from getting too close made me feel safe despite all the chaos.

"No problem." He ducks his head, and I think I see the faintest blush on his cheeks before he turns and walks down the hallway, long mustache swinging behind him.

"Don't let him fool you," Liam mutters. "He's binge-watching the last season of The Bachelor. I'm not even kidding."

I clap a hand over my mouth. "Awww. I knew he was a big ole teddy bear underneath all that facial hair."

"You better not let him hear you say that." Liam squeezes my hand and strides into what I'm guessing is the kitchen.

My eyes travel over the room. This place belongs in a catalog. For all its luxury though, something's missing. Other than the painting, there isn't much in here that seems like Liam.

I scan the walls and bookshelves for photographs. I find only a single framed picture sitting beside a pair of bookends on a polished credenza. It's a photo of Liam and his friends, standing on a beach, arms wrapped around each other, bright smiles on their faces.

"That was a good day." Liam pokes his head around the corner.

"You guys are really close." I run a thumb over the picture.

"Yeah." Liam shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot. "My friends are kind of the only family I've got."

He glances up at me. The expression on his face is soul-wreckingly vulnerable. That's the most personal thing he's said to me, and it makes me hate myself for not respecting his privacy earlier. If Liam knew what I was up to this morning, there's no way he would've just shared something like that with me. He'd probably never speak to me again.

"They seem like a pretty great family." My voice is thick, weighed down by guilt, but Liam doesn't notice. I press the tip of my finger to his smiling face in the photo as I set it back where I found it. "You look happy."

Liam walks over, looking down at the photograph. "That was taken up at Wesley's beach house. It's my favorite spot in the world. It's the only place we can really be ourselves. He bought it in his sister's name, so none of the paps have discovered it yet."

He nudges me teasingly when he says 'paps.' I laugh, but it comes out sounding strangled.

"Hey, you know I'm joking, right?" he asks, pulling back, so he can see me.

"I know." I squeeze his hand and force some warmth into my smile. "It's just been a day."

"I can relate," he mumbles. It makes me ache for him because, of course, he can.

"Let's see these legendary cooking skills of yours," I say.

"Be prepared to be impressed." Liam takes my hand, and I follow him into the kitchen.

It reminds me of the gourmet kitchens my mom's always adding to her Pinterest boards. It's all marble and stainless steel. Every surface gleams in the overhead lights, which Liam dims by pushing a button on his cell phone.

He turns on the oven and walks over to the massive island with its built-in cutting board and starts chopping up a bunch of garlic and herbs.

"Move over Gordon Ramsay." I hop up to sit on the bar next to him.

"Ramsay has nothing on me." He winks as he sprinkles seasoning over a couple of chicken breasts.

He says 'Ramsay' like he's pals with the guy. In all likelihood, he probably is. Even knowing Liam's a celebrity, it's hard to wrap my mind around that.

I catch myself staring at Liam's hands as he chops and glance away. Watching him cook is unbelievably sexy.

"So do you live here alone?"

"Usually. Briggs stays here sometimes when we're out late at events or whatever. He's got his own room back there." Liam tilts his head in the direction Briggs walked off. "I just bought this place a few months ago after I turned eighteen." He stops dicing and sets the knife down on the counter. "I, uh, lived with Faye and her mom for a while before that."

He hesitates, as though he wants me to ask him why. He's being so open, and I want to be the person he can talk to. But I already know what he's going to tell me—or at least part of it anyway—and it's killing me not to be honest about that.

This isn't about me, though. It's about Liam. And if he wants to tell me about his past, I need to be here for him.

"Liam?" I ask. The raw pain in his eyes when he looks at me cuts me wide open. "Where are your parents?" My words are quiet, almost a whisper in his silent kitchen.

Liam reaches over, taking my hand like it's an anchor keeping him from getting swept away. I run my thumb across the back of his knuckles.

He stares down at our joined hands. "My mom took off right after I was born. Like right after. She didn't stick around long enough to sign the birth certificate. I half expected her to turn up after I got famous, but she never even did that." He forces a hollow laugh. "And my dad...my dad's not a great guy, Ace."

"What do you mean?" I ask, running my fingers through his hair.

Liam turns his head, kissing my palm but doesn't meet my eyes.

"He's a drunk and a gambler. He lost almost all the money I made during the first couple years I was working on the show. That's why I had to move in with Faye and her mom until I turned eighteen and could open my own bank accounts. After that, he started selling lies to the media about me partying.

"He actually brought a photographer into our house. The two of them woke me up in the middle of the night, so they could get shots that made it seem like I was wasted out of my mind."

Realization dawns on me. "The photog you hit?"

"When that guy started following me around later that week, I just snapped. I punched him in the face."

"Oh my God. Oh, Liam." I press a hand to my mouth. This is so, so much worse than I could've possibly imagined. Tears sting the back of my eyes at the pain radiating off him.

"Messed up, right? The worst part is now I have to pay my dad to keep him from spreading more stories about me. My reputation's already so wrecked a lot of directors won't work with me. Paul almost had me cut from Cipher because of it. So I have no choice but to give him money, so he'll keep quiet."

"Why didn't you tell anyone what was happening? Like a lawyer or, I don't know, anyone?"

Liam hangs his head, shaking it slowly.

"I was embarrassed. I didn't want people to know my dad was such a loser. If I told people about him, that's all they'd see whenever they looked at me. Some cliché child star with a tragic past. I didn't want to be that guy. I wanted my reputation to be based on my talent, on the person I am. Not on him."

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I don't know what to say. There aren't words to fix this kind of hurt. I can't believe I have a photograph sitting on my camera roll that could help Agnes reveal this story and force Liam to relive everything he's gone through in front of the entire world. I would never give it to her, but I shouldn't have taken it to begin with.

"The crazy thing is," Liam continues, "I've never even had a drink before. He's blackmailing me for stories that aren't true. I saw what all the booze turned him into, and I don't want to be anything like him." Liam's throat bobs as he swallows down emotions I can't even imagine.

"Hey." I put my hands on either side of his face, so he's looking into my eyes. "You are nothing like him, okay? You're wonderful, and talented, and caring."

I see Liam's chest hitch as he looks at me. We stay like that for a second, breaths entwining, staring at each other. The air around us turns electric. I can practically feel it crackling.

Liam reaches for me at the same moment I pull him in. My legs wrap around his hips, and his hands grasp my waist, drawing me closer to him, so our chests are pressed flush together. All I want to do is kiss him until all his pain is gone. His lips crash into mine, and I understand what it feels like to be a star. So full of heat and fire you can't possibly contain it all inside of you. You burn until all that radiance and intensity and passion lights up the whole world.

I grip his shoulders as his tongue glides over my bottom lip. I open my mouth to him, deepening our kiss. His fingers wrap around my ankles and travel up the bare skin of my calves, over my thighs until I shiver. His mouth finds the curve of my neck, making every nerve-ending in my body ignite.

A humming sound escapes my lips as my hands trace over his abdomen. The muscles spasm beneath my fingertips, and he gasps in a way that makes my toes curl inside my shoes.

The oven goes off, beeping loudly, and making us both jump. Liam pulls back enough to look into my eyes but doesn't make a move toward the chicken. I watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"I think the oven's hot," I say, my own breaths ragged.

"Something is definitely hot in here, but it isn't the oven." Liam shakes his head, eyes gliding over the cut-off shorts I'm wearing and down my legs. "Ada, you're seriously killing me. You're so damn beautiful."

Something vital shatters inside me hearing those words come out of his mouth.

I run a fingertip over his exquisite face. "You're not so bad yourself, Superstar."

"Not so bad, huh?" He laughs. "Come here." He bends forward, brushing a soft kiss against my lips. "I do have a surprise for you."

He lifts me off the counter, setting me gently on the floor.

My knees are so weak, it's a wonder I'm not sprawled across the marble. He laces his fingers through mine, leading me back to the living room. I flop down on his ridiculously plush couch as he starts tapping at his phone, and a television lowers from one of the wood panels in the ceiling.

"Well, now you're just showing off," I say.

"Wait for it." Liam holds up a finger. The screen lights up with the opening scene from Roman Holiday.

"You didn't!" I cry, hand flying to my chest. I'm so touched that he remembered. "I can't believe you did this." I stand, winding my arms around his neck. "This is amazing. You are amazing."

The smile on Liam's mouth is tender. "Thanks for listening to me earlier. I'm sorry. I totally unloaded on you." His eyes drop to the floor.

I place a hand against his cheek, turning his face back to mine. "Thanks for telling me. I want to know everything about you, Liam. If you didn't notice, I kind of like you."

Liam runs a hand over my hair. "I kind of like you too, Ace."

The way he says it makes it sound like maybe he more than likes me. And if the fact that my heart is full to the point of bursting is any indication, I think I more than like him too.