Page 68 of Starstruck

He shrugged, carelessly, as he picked at the crust on the custard tart. "Fine, I suppose."

Which loosely translated to"I don't know, and I don't care."

“Okay…" My laugh rippled through those four letters. "How are youreallyfinding it?” I asked, nudging his ribs lightly with my shoulder, trying to keep my voice casual.

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers fiddled with the zipper on the leather jacket he'd taken off, and then he let out a soft laugh. “You mean how am I doing at the place I didn’t even want to be?” His voice was low, almost like it hurt to say the words out loud.

“Yeah,” I whispered, leaning in, “that.”

He stared ahead for a moment, his eyes roaming the bakery. “Even if it had been my choice… I don’t think I’d feel any different.” He shrugged, his head rolling back before falling to face me, his eyes knowing. “I don’t belong here, Goldie." His voice was calm, like a wave that finally settling after a storm. "I don't belong in class, at this college... or anywhere, really. It’s like I’m just floating through it, waiting to prove to everyone else what I already know.”

I frowned, leaning in a little closer. “And what’s that?”

“That I’m not good enough.” His jaw clenched. “I sit in class and everyone else just… gets it. And I’m sitting there thinking, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’” He shook his head, quiet frustration lacing his words. “The only time I don’t feel like I’m faking who I am, like I’m actually worth something, is when I’m playing. With my music, it’s... different. It’s the only thing I have where I feel like I’m doing something right. Like I’m enough.”

My chest tightened, and for a moment, I couldn’t find the words. I wanted to reach out, to make him understand what I saw when I looked at him, but I wasn’t sure he’d believe me.

“I don’t think you realise how much you have to give,” I said softly, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear, hoping he’d listen. “You’re not… I mean, I’ve only known you for a short time, but I can already see it. You have this… potential, Tristan. Something big, something good. And I get it—why you want to lose yourself in music, because… you’re amazing at it. But it’s not all you are.”

His eyes darkened, like my words weren’t sinking in the way I wanted them to. “But it’s all I’ve got, Goldie.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the ache in his voice. “That’s not true. You have us." I dipped my head to meet his stare. "I just don't think you see what I see. You don't see how much I smile when I listen to your songs.”

His lips twitched, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned back, looking at me with a soft smirk that barely hid the sadness beneath it. “So… what, you’re a fan now?”

I rolled my eyes, though my smile mirrored his. “Well, myboyfriend’sa rockstar. It’s my job to be his biggest fan, right?”

The second those words left my lips, I knew I’d crossed some kind of line. His gaze softened, like the weight of what I’d just said hit him straight in the chest. For a moment, his teasing fell away, and he looked at me with an intensity that made my heart stumble in my chest. His eyes searched mine, and for just a second, it felt like the world around us disappeared.

I couldn’t breathe.

That look… I had to remind myself it wasn’t real. I had to strip it all down to what this actually was: an arrangement, nothing more. Without the lingering glances, without the accidental brush of our hands, without the unspoken moments between us, it was just two people getting what they needed. He was getting his privacy, and I was getting my guidance. We were using each other. Plain and simple.

But for some reason, that thought didn’t settle as easily as it should have. Especially after what he'd just told me.

I took a breath, my fingers reaching for the custard tart andpicking off the flakes of pastry. “You know you didn’t have to do this.”

I felt his brows draw in. “What?”

I leaned back, my eyes diving into his as I tore off a part of thetart and placed it in my mouth. “Helping me with the whole dating thing.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked, shuffling his chest to face mebetter.

I shrugged, my cardigan bunching on the leather booth. “You're not even supposed to be here, and somehow I've sucked you in to do this with me and… now I feel bad that I've put this extra pressure on you—"

"I wouldn't have said yes if I hadn't have wanted to help you. You know that right?" He asked, his eyes searching mine.

I barely nodded, wondering if I'd ever felt this helpless before. "But it's not just that." I shook my head. "I guess it waswhat you told me the other day, about Henry, and I’ve trying to come up with a reason why you’d even lie about a thing like that, and I haven’t come up with anything.”

“That’s because I didn’t lie.”

A wave of embarrassment washed over me as I thought back to thatday, cringing at how naive I’d sounded. It was like a slap in the face, realising I was slipping back into the very thing I’d sworn never to become again. I used to believe my parents had my best interests at heart, that they wanted to protect me. I’d trusted them completely. Look where that got me.

And now here I was, falling back into that same version ofmyself—the one I’d left behind in California.

“Look,” His low voice stole back my attention. “It’s not my place totell what to do, and it never will be, but I figured, when the bloke you like told me all he was going to do with you was toss you to the side the second he got bored, I’d try and save you from your first heartbreak.” His head angled, as his cupid’s bow popped. “And I swore that I’d keep your firsts safe.”

Maybe that’s why I was dreaming about this man in a certain way,because he says things like that, in his deep, heavy voice, which he must know will only drive a girl to obsession one of these days.

---