Page 32 of Starstruck

From the way she saidstudy spots, I reckoned studying was about as high on her agenda as sobriety was at a freshers' party. Not that I was itching to start on this presentation with her, mind you. In fact, if we were ranking ways humans could interact, studying was dead last, and tied for that last place spot was literallyanythingelse.

Fancy a chat? Nah. Grab a coffee? Pass. Walk me into oncoming traffic? Tempting, but still no. I wanted absolutely fuck-all to do with her, and I sent up a silent prayer to whatever deity handles awkward social exits.Please, just take the hint.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m no saint. Never claimed to be. If I were, I wouldn’t be here in the first place, trying to scrape together a future I can stomach and a head that doesn’t feel like it’s been put through a blender. But the last thing I needed was to waste my time batting off every girl who fancied their chances. Not when I had priorities. Not when I was trying to keep my head down.

Messing around with the girl I’d been assigned to do a project withwould wreck every plan I had of staying in the shadows.

And this one? I could practically smell the drama coming off her.

“How about we just meet in the library?” I offered, handing back her phone. “Friday, at four?”

I watched as her smile fizzled out—that flirty glow she had abouther fading as she slid her phone back in her pocket.

“Sure.” She rushed, passing me a quick smile before spinning on herheels and slipping out of the room.

Giving my phone number to Becca wouldn't do me any favours. And I'd bet my life on the fact that half the city would have it by the end of the day. Couldn't imagine Cade being thrilled about that.

I gave it a few minutes before I left too, not wanting to bump intoher and have to go through all that again. When I deemed it clear to leave, I stepped out into the corridor, and before I could even make it a few paces from the exit, I spied Goldie at the end of the hallway, talking with a guy.

At first glance, I thought it was Finn, with the same golden blondhair and roughly the same height, but as I walked closer, I quickly realised I’d never seen this kid in my life. He looked like a six-foot version of the milky bar kid if we took in his check shirt and jeans, with circular glasses framing his face.

Instead of getting closer, I stopped and watched their conversationfrom a few paces away, leaning against the stone tracery. Her smile sparkled up at him as he talked to her, and just like Becca had done with me, the guy handed her his phone, and in a heartbeat, Goldie was typing away on his screen.

I felt something pull in my stomach as I watched her hand his phoneback to him, their hands grazing one another and laughing about the contact. I couldn’t tell what it was that was making my stomach feel like a fifty-ton weight had been dropped right in the centre, and I don’t think I wanted to know, as I traded the sight of them for the scuffed-up toes of my high tops.

I turn away to look at the gardens through the tracery, wondering why London never had leaves this orange and skies this clear in autumn, when I heard footsteps echoing behind me.

Before I could turn, she chirped, “Oh, hey.”

I spun to face her, a smile tugging at my lips before I could stop it. How could I not? Hers was so bright, so unapologetically happy, brimming with a kind of spirit I wish I had while trudging through these halls. It was like her energy was daring me not to crack a grin—and, well, I’m not that strong.

“Hi,” I croaked, closing my eyes for a moment to weaver the shame of my voice crack, before looking down at her again. “Happy with your presentation partner?”

Goldie nodded. “Yeah, heseems cool.” She said. “But by the look on your face when I saw you talking to the girl whose boobs were resting underneath her chin, I'm gonna take a wild guess and assume you’ll be going to Etoille and asking to trade?”

That didn’t sound like the worst idea, but I shrugged. “I’m sure it’llbe fine. So long as she keeps the cleavage and questions to a minimum, and isn't a pain in the arse, then we'll be right.”

Her face lit up. “Does Tristan Harper hate attention? Who would’ve guessed?”

I let a laugh leave me as I dropped my head, before getting lost in that stare. “Oh no, I love it. But only when it’s coming from the people I actually care about.”

I had a hard time trying to convince myself that that didn’t meanher. But like I said, I wasn’t allowed to lie to myself anymore.

“I get that. Luckily, I don’t think anyone, apart from you, has lookedat me for long enough to recognise me.”

I mimic her shocked expression, becoming deaf to the voices in myhead telling me to stop talking to her. “Does the queen of kids sitcoms hate attention too?” I laughed, even more so when a giggle slipped from her lips.

“Always have. Always will.” She says firmly, the words weaved between her soft smile, before she shakes her head. “And thankfully, I think I just get lost in the crowd here. Even Henry didn’t recognise me.” She said as she hiked a thumb over her shoulder.

I cocked my head to the side, letting a grin full of trouble—trouble that had no business showing itself—spread across my face like butter on toast. It shouldn’t have been there, I knew that. But self-control? Never met her. “The Milkybar Kid?” I asked, smirk growing wider, while doing absolutely bugger-all to hide it.

It spread into a full-on smile when I saw the way Goldie was tryingnot to laugh at the comparison. “That is cruel.” Her smile just kept growing. “He doesnotlook like the Milkybar Kid.”

I laughed. “Oh, please, he might as well walk into class with a redneckerchief and a cowboy hat and hand them out.”

The laugh that left her as she threw back her head was probablythe best noise I’d ever heard in my life. It was soft, but held so much power, and echoed off the stone walls and travelled to each end of the hallway.

It sounded like proof that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

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