Read Stars (Penmore #1) for Free Online Page B

looked like Grayson from behind. And I could also admit that maybe to someone who hadn’t been somewhat-stalking Grayson Waters for what feels like their entire life, he could also easily pass for him from the front. He had the same jaw line, same furrowed brow. Even his mouth looked similar, dusty pink and bottom heavy. But I know Grayson’s smile, and what I was faced with was not Grayson Waters’ smile. I have memorized the way Grayson’s mouth tilts at the right-hand corner just a fraction when he’s smirking or trying to stifle his big smile. And the way a small dimple in his left cheek pops out when he’s giving it big.
    Except this Grayson wannabe didn’t have a dimple.
    He started to walk over to me and I was shocked by how alike they moved. Like stalking their prey. Graceful. Commanding. Confident. “Hey, you must be Parker,” he says as he gets close to me, stretching his hand out, inviting me to shake it. But I don’t. I’m actually a little pissed off. How dare he look like Grayson! So I just stare at his offering of friendship. Then him. Then his hand.
    He drops his hand and instead grins at me, taking another slow and long perusal of my outfit. “Okay, so you aren’t into handshakes. But you’re still staring at me. So I’m going to go out on a limb here and ask if you’re a Grayson Waters fan.” He leans over the counter and lets me know softly, “If you are a fan, I can definitely make some quality time for you.”
    “You’re not Grayson,” I hiss.
    “Never said I was,” he replies, returning to his initial standing position, his eyes suddenly filling with humor. Not caring that I’m throwing all polite etiquette on how to interact with a total stranger out the window, I take a long, hard look at the man in front of me. Before I can stop myself, I let him know, “You look a lot like him.”
    “Yep. Can’t say that I don’t,” he responds, still grinning at me from across the bar, obviously enjoying my interrogation. “Do you often pretend to be him?” I ask with one brow raised. I realize that maybe with his staggering resemblance and his offer of quality time that he had probably deceived girls in the past. “Is this a trick question?” He raises his own brow before breaking out in a cheeky smile that causes his green eyes to twinkle.
    “Only if you have long-term memory issues,” I reply, losing my annoyance and struggling not to smile at his infectious chuckle.
    “Well, we just met. And I would hate to start our friendship off with lies, so I’m going to go with ‘only if the girls are stupid enough to fall for it’,” he states. His eyes are still twinkling with humor as he reaches for a cloth and starts to wipe down the table. His actions remind me that I’m here to work, not cross-examine the bartender. Even if he has stolen the face of my dream guy.
    “So, when you aren’t pretending to be Grayson Waters, what do you introduce yourself as?” I finally ask.
    He puts his hand out again. “Hi, I’m Nate.”
    After shaking his hand, I just can’t help but ask, “So, why do you look so much like Grayson?”
    “Would you believe me if I said I know a fantastic plastic surgeon?”
    “No.” I really wish I could tell him it’s his mannerisms that are disturbing me the most. That the way he’s moving is so much like the Grayson I’ve observed that I would almost guess he’s also studied Grayson from afar.
    “So, I probably should start helping. But it’s going to bug me all night and probably end up distracting me until I end up on my ass in these boots. How is it possible that you guys are so alike?”
    “Why do you care?” he asks, pausing from wiping down the bench and losing his infectious smile to give me a careful once-over. The defensive stance Nate suddenly takes has me responding with the truth. “Grayson and I have been neighbors for thirteen years.”
    “Oh, well, then you probably met my sperm donor,” Nate says as he relaxes and resumes