Page 87 of Starstruck

I pulled my lips together as my eyes got wide, poking my headforward slightly. “You called him Tristan?”

“It was an accident, and I think it was because I saw you.” Her eyesheld mine, like she’d forgotten all about our run-in at that game. “Truthfully, I was still thinking about what happened with you for the rest of that game, so really, I should blame you for this.” She lifted her hands and waved them around, a whisper of a smile gracing her face.

I know it shouldn’t have, but a part of me felt relieved that she’ddone that tohim, regardless of whether it was an accident or not; it let Henry know who she was thinking about when she was with him. That there wasn’t a scheme he could dream of that could severe the invisible string from around us.

Then there was the other part that realised that she’d been sittingin the rain for an hour because, I guess, he was trying to bruise her ego like she’d done with him.

And here Goldie was blaming herself for someone else’s actions.

“That wasn’t your fault, Gold’s,” I reminded her, “And if he wants toleave you in the pissing rain while you berate yourself for that, then I’m gonna tell you what I told you all those weeks ago.” She looked up at me, peering from behind her hood, but that was all I needed to look her dead in the eyes and remind this girl, “You’re too good for him.”

Silence descend on us for a second or two, Goldie taking a moment for herselfto let my words sink in, and when I realised she wasn’t going to offer anything else, I took the lead. “So does this mean you’re free today?”

She shrugged, fiddling with the frayed parts of her jeans. “I should probably goback and study. It’s good weather for it, and I want to do some more internal research for the case study.”

I barked a laugh. “Goldie, you’re a walking psychology textbook; youcan skip a day of studying.” A small smile, barely a smile at all when I traced it again, rested on her mouth. “I’m sorry,” I blurted, earning back her eyes. “For being so distant, and for... well, for being an arsehole last week.”

She tilted her head. “You weren’t an asshole, you were justconcerned.”

“I was both, Goldie. And I’m really sorry.”

She flailed her wrist, her sodden hoodie flopping around her hand.“It’s fine.”

I shifted my weight between my feet, sinking my bottom lipbetween my teeth before I asked, “So… today?”

Calmness sat around her for a moment, like the whole park quieted so shecould exist in her mind, anything to make her see what she didn’t want to. And then the rain eased, and the breeze stilled, and as she sat there with her thoughts, she picked at the gold rings that adorned her hands, spinning and spinning them until she stopped, and her head slowly craned up to meet me.

It was like the sun shone above us when her eyes landed on mine andshe asked, “What did you have in mind?”

I know I shouldn’t be encouraging this; after all, if Henry found out that I’dswooped in and saved the day after he’d ditched her, he’d tell everyone in a heartbeat about what happened in London. But when it came to Goldie, I didn’t care about what happened to me; I didn’t care if everyone in this fucking park found out this second. So long as I was with her, I couldn’t care less about what was happening outside this bubble we’d made ourselves.

I slumped to the side, and when I couldn’t come up anything I’drather do than sit here all day in the rain and just talk to her, the guitar on my shoulders slid down my shoulder, reminding me it was there.

And a light bulb went off in my head.

I looked back at her, connecting our eyes, and nodded my head atmy guitar.

She followed my line of sight, and I didn’t do a thing to hide mysmile when I watched her eyes get wide. “Oh, absolutely not; that is a waste of both of our time.” She gets up, doing a spin like she was trying to fathom even playing the guitar.

“C’mon, what’s the worst that can happen?”

She scoffed. “A lot. And that guitar looks expensive.”

“It’s just a guitar, Gold’s.” I said, watching as she folded her armsaround her waist, the sodden fabric bunching the end of her braid.

We stayed that way for a moment or two, in a silent battle, asthough we knew each other’s minds well enough, knew what was floating around in there, that words weren’t necessary.

My gaze dipped as the inside of her cheek disappeared between herteeth, telling me better than she could that she was seriously considering this.

So I took one last jab and whispered, “I dare ya.”

My body seemed to lift, almost like I was weightless, as I watchedher eyes widen, her lashes just grazing her lids, showing off the molten gold swirls that lived in her eyes.

Streams of lyrics gushed through my mind the longer I studiedthem, like they always did when she was the center of my attention. Poetic words that had never once been a part of my vocabulary were suddenly all I wanted to speak whenever I looked at her.

All I wanted to write about.

She was a muse that I’d risk everything for, and yet, while that should havescared me, should have made me break down like I had done by the fountain, it was like I’d never known what it was to be scared.

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