Page 30 of Starstruck

“I hate running,” Daisy says, catching her breath. “And for somereason, all my lyric ideas like to pop into my head while I’m running. Do you know how hard it is to write and run?”

We all laugh as we reach the stairs, although, for some reason, minefeel forced.

I fell silent on the journey to campus, listening on the outskirts ofthe conversation, and for the life of me, I couldn’t understand what had soured my mood.

Liar. You know the reason.

Maybe deep down, if I wanted to travel that far within myself, Icould see the reason clear as day. But right now I didn’t want to, I knew well enough that whatever it was that was keeping me from fully wanting to commit to that pact was in the shape of a question mark, and whatever it was, was calling me clueless in every language I could understand.

Unlike yesterday, I made it to class with more than a minute tospare.Meaning I had time to truly imagine what my portrait would look like on the wall of valedictorians who came before me.

And because I wasn’t running too late, there were seats free that weren’tdirectly in the front row. I claimed a seat on the sixth or seventh row from the front, whipped out my laptop and water bottle, and before I knew it, Professor Etoille was striding into the room, a different-coloured tweed jacket from yesterday thrown over his shoulder and a leather briefcase in hand.

“Alright, guys. How did we do with the reading after yesterday?” Headdressed the room, an affirmative mumble echoing around the room. “Wow, one class into the semester and the enthusiasm is already gone? I should really spice things up for you kids.” That earned him a laugh. “What about if I play some of the music you like before class? Would that put you in a better mood?” He asked with a sweet grin on his face.

Again, a laugh filtered throughout the room.

“I’m sure it’s no secret to you guys, but studies show that whenmusic is played in a place of learning, students’ lymbic systems light up like a light bulb. It switches on the hippocampus, which is the part of your brain that plays a critical role in learning, and memory.”

I feel a twitch in my fingertips, and within seconds, my hand israised.

Etiolle’s eyes find me. “Yes, Marigold?”

I drop my hand as I ask, “What’s the psychology behind that?”

His shoulders roll with a shrug as he shuffles the papers he tookfrom his briefcase. “I suppose studies have shown that because music brings most people more joy than studying, that added element of familiarity and fun makes the task at hand seem like fun too. It’s more like tricking your brain into thinking it isn’t wired the way that it is.”

“What makes us do that though?” I ask.

Etoille shrugs, his smile deepening the wrinkles on his face. “Isuppose, Marigold, it’s because we as humans desire fun over everything else. Having fun is what keeps us motivated. It maintains balance.”

Fun. Of course, it boiled down to fun.

I shook my head, the question piling up on the tip of my tongue. “Butwhat if a person doesn’t know how—”

The creaking of the door halted my words, and when Tristanemerged from behind the tanned wood, I felt my heart stop.

Why did he have to be so handsome? Just… why?

I watch as every head twists towards him, naturally, before Etoille’s attention falls onto him too.

“Answer me this, Mr Harper. Is the reason you’re laterelated to anything fun?”

Tristan shrugged, slowly blinking. “If you count getting lost on the subway as fun, then sure, I was having fun.”

Etoille knocked his head towards Tristan, while his eyes fell back onme. “See, Miss Moore, it’s all about the fun.”

Yeah, I get it, dude.

“I’ll let you off this once, Mr. Harper, seeing as though youarefromacross the pond, so long as this doesn’t happen again.”

Tristan sends a half-assed salute and a tight smile Etoille’s way,before looking around and finding that the only empty seats are in the front row. I watch him laugh to himself when he spies them, but as he’s walking, his eyes somehow find me in the crowd, and because he’s a funny thing to figure out and wants me to be distracted for the rest of this class, just like yesterday, he locks eyes with me as a smile possesses his mouth.

I roll my eyes at him as he takes his seat, but once they settle, theystill seem to gravitate back to him.

“Was that all the questions you had, Marigold?”Etiolle asked, and I looked right at him.

I wanted to ask him what it meant if a person didn’t know how to havefun.

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