Page 89 of Starstruck

Her eyes widened once she saw what I was suggesting. “Oh, Tristan, I don’tknow—”

“Gold’s, it’s me.”

She looked at me for a moment, searching for something in my eyes as hercheeks blushed. But as I sank into her stare, she bunched up the sleeves of her jumper and sighed as she crept over to the space between my legs.

And as I placed my guitar in front of her and felt her settle against me, I askedmyself what I’d done, after everything, to deserve such peace.

How could something as simple as playing guitar in the rain with myfavourite person on the planet make the world feel like it wasn’t ready to cave in on me and the life I’d come to love here?

I tensed as her back met my chest, sucking in a subtle breath and waiting untilshe was comfortable to slowly let it out. As the breeze skated past us, I had to squeeze my eyes shut, that heavenly mixture of strawberries and vanilla making it hard to concentrate on why she was in my lap in the first place.

I shuffled the guitar until it was comfortable for both of us, sitting up slightly topeer over her shoulder, and before I went to fix her hands in the right place, I asked her, “Is this okay?”

I felt her nod against my chest. “Yes.” She sighed, almost breathlessly.

I took her hands then, ones that made snowflakes feel like fire embers, but allthat made me do was hold them tighter. “Okay, now I’ll hold the guitar, and you play the chords, okay?”

“Okay.” She giggled, which made that goofy smile I only seemed to smilearound her shine behind her head.

I took hold of the neck and let the body rest on her lap, and when I said so, sheplayed the chords, each one as seamless and beautiful as the last. “See, you don’t suck.”

She let her head fall back, like she forgot that my shoulder was there to catch it,pulling it up before it settled. “I don’t suck because you’re doing all the hard work.”

“I’m just propping it up; you’re making the music, Gold’s.”

Her chuckle rumbled against my chest, as a few raindrops from the branchesabove us landed on us, before she went again. “What are these chords, anyway?” She asked as she began to play them again.

I shrugged, nudging her slightly as I did. “Just something I’ve been messingwith; I didn’t know if it had potential or not.”

She shifted her head, not enough to see me, but enough that I could make outthe curve of her lips and the blossom of her red cheeks. “Do they have lyrics?”

I heard that prying tone in her voice, and it amazed me how shecould make it sound so sweet. And without her seeing, I shook my head. “No way.”

She shifted fully then, her eyes right on me. “What?”

I dared to look down at her. “I am not singing in front of you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’ll sing in front of a crowd of New Yorkers, but notme?”

“Yeah, because that wasn’t terrifying.”

“And I am?”

“The idea of fucking up in front of you is, yeah.”

She shifted around, settling back against my chest. “I want to hear it.”

I wondered, then, if she could feel how fast my heart was beating against herback. I wondered if she’d ask me about it, or whether she wanted to ignore it. I don’t know which I’d prefer, to be honest. Having her know just how much of an effect she has on me, how much having her near me makes me feel like a different person, a better person, would only complicate… everything.

She deserved someone who wasn’t keeping a part of themselves hidden. Shedeserved a love that was the type she’d been dreaming about, and I wasn’t sure I could offer her that. God knows that I wanted to, but part of me wondered whether I could ever love a girl like Goldie the way that she needed to be loved.

With a gentle intensity that wouldn't dull her shine.

With just as much light to power hers.

With honesty.

But having her here, right up against me and ignoring the heartbeat that I knewfor a fact she could feel, it made me want to come clean. It made me hopeful.

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