Page 102 of Starstruck

I didn’t know what to call it, but I knew it was something.

Whatever it was made a part of my heart chip when he pulled myhand away, and all I knew was that I didn’t like the way he did that, didn’t like the questions that sat behind what he’d done with my locket, only for him to retreat in a way he never had before.

“Yeah,” I sighed, as the pads of my fingers embedded into the carvings on thelocket dangling through my hands. “Let's go.”

chapter thirty two

i know i'm going to dream about this once you're gone

Mom showed me and Tristan to our rooms after they gave us a tour andbrought us into the kitchen for warm apple cider that Dad had spent a few months brewing for today. I knew they’d keep us at a distance, our rooms practically on opposite ends of the house, but something about it felt natural with the way things had felt today.

It was as though the world was trying to separate us, but at the same time itcouldn’t help but push us together, like it knew we shouldn’t be this close, but how we also couldn’t do anything about it.

That’s all I thought about, like a broken record, as I curled my hair and slippedon a white tea dress, ready for dinner.

I hadn’t had any trouble reading Tristan, picking apart his emotions and piecingtogether what was going on in his mind, which was why I could tell he was lost in the foothills, or some dark path he hadn’t been down before.

I just didn’t know why.

The only thing my mind seemed to take me back to was the night we kissed. That stolen moment where we finally gave in to one another. When he hoisted me around his torso, fisted my damp hair, and drew his hands down the curves of my back.

I felt the curling iron slip from my hand the second that image flew across mymind, the way it felt like his hands were still pressed against me, forcing me to squeeze my legs together. Come to think of it, every night since then I’ve drifted to sleep thinking of that moment, replaying it over and over again until my dreams of what I wished had happened took the reins.

I shook the thoughts that made me breathless out of my head,knowing full well that I wouldn’t make it through this dinner if they were playing in my head. Luckily, a knock sounded from the dark oak door to my bedroom, andanother, before I heard the hinges begin to whine.

“My eyes are closed, I promise. But your mum called us downbecause dinner’s ready.”

I turned my body around in my chair to face the door, giggling at Tristan’s headpoking from behind it, his eyes squeezed closed. I switched off the curling iron and set it to rest before standing up from my chair, brushing the hair off my dress, and walking over to where he stood.

I stopped right before him, swallowing my laughs, before tapping hisshoulder, and watching the creases leave his eyes and his brown pools fall onto me.

“Ready,” I whispered, letting the weight of his stare crash down onme.

Every time I dared to venture into that stare, I felt more seen thanI ever had before. When he looked at me, he wasn’t just looking at me, instead, he was peeling back the layers of who I was trying to be and setting free the girl I’d kept locked away and hidden from the world. He was unearthing the dreamer in me, the girl who wasn’t afraid to admit she loved studying, the girl who craved feeling as normal as the people around her.

He saw that girl, and I was scared when he left, no onewould ever see her again.

I swallowed before letting our dangling hands find each other, and all it took was for his fingers to skim mine to remember I had my locket nestled in my grip. His gaze dropped to it, curiosity flickering in his dark eyes before they found mine again.

"Will you?” I blurted, the words tumbling out before I could think better of them.

“Of course,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around me like a warm blanket.

I stood in front of the mirror, my heart fluttering as I held the locket out for him to take. Once it was with him I lifted my hair off my neck, exposing the soft skin beneath, the pulse racing just beneath the surface.

Tristan’s fingertips brushed my neck as he draped the chain around me, igniting a fire that pooled low in my belly. I bit my lip, a soft gasp escaping as the gentle caress sent shivers racing down my spine. The moment felt suspended, stretching into infinity, and I held my breath, wishing for him to linger, to let the touch become something more.

Oh God, this feeling. His touch was everything. Why was it everything? His hands have been on nearly every part of my body, and having his fingers skim over my neck is what's making me hyperventilate?

When he finally clicked the clasp into place, I dared to glance in the mirror. The locket lay perfectly against my collarbone, a delicate weight that felt like both a blessing and a burden.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, and I caught the warmth in his gaze as it met mine.

I turned slowly to face him, my fingers grazing the locket, feelingits weight as if it were anchoring me to this moment. The heat of his stare sent a rush of warmth through my body, igniting every nerve ending. “Thank you,” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips, leaving me aching for more than just the touch of the locket—more than the air between us. I wanted him closer, wanted to feel the warmth of his body against mine, to bridge the gap that felt impossibly wide, yet shrinking with every second I was guessing what was happening between us.

As I blinked, the picture of him pulling my hand away from himprojected on the empty walls of my mind, doing nothing but make the throbbing that was up there, the vibrations of overthinking whatever had changed, pick up its pace.

I let my lips curve into a smile, disguising my heavy breaths anddistracting both of us. “Ready for your first Thanksgiving?”

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