Page 15 of Starlee's Hope (The Wayward Sons 4)

“One of my best friends. But it took me until I was almost a senior in high school to find him—and my other friends.” I nudge her with my knee. “Sometimes it takes a while to find the people you’re supposed to be with. It can be really hard to find your tribe, but I promise, they’re out there somewhere.”

Jake strolls up, hands tucked into his pocket. Brianna looks up at him with red cheeks.

“Jake, this is my friend Brianna.”

“Hi, Brianna.”

“Hi.” She looks like she may implode.

“Would you like to dance?” he offers, holding out his hand.

She glances at me, panicked.

“He’s a good dancer,” I say. “And super nice.”

The girl stares at his hand for a long moment and I feel the questions, the concerns, the millions of excuses running through her brain. I’ve been there and that second-guessing sucks. She takes a quick breath and says, “Okay.”

A strange relief floods through me and as Jake takes her hand and walks away, he looks over her head and winks at me. Butterflies fill my stomach at the gesture, because even after all this time he makes me flustered, just like that little girl.

But the wayward sons aren’t just handsome and talented, they’re sweet and charming—they care about people and know how to reach girls like me. Girls like Brianna.

It’s almost like magic.

8

Charlie

“You know, that was really fun,” Starlee says once the kids are gone. Margaret deemed the event a success. Claire suggested we clean up and head over to the diner for dinner. That got everyone to focus on finishing up.

“Thank god,” George says. “I’m starving.”

“There are cupc

akes left,” Christina says, holding out a container she’s repacking.

He gives her a tight smile. “Uh, thanks but I’m off sugar right now.”

“You had three glasses of punch. I saw you.”

His eyes dart to Dexter, pleading. Now that we seem to have a tentative truce with Christina, no one wants to get her worked up again. Dexter sighs but turns to her and says, “If you want to learn how to make a good cupcake, we can talk. I know a few tricks.”

“My cupcakes are fine.”

“No,” Jasper says, walking by with a box of supplies, “they are not. Listen to the baker. He’s a pro.”

All of this happens while I break down the sound system up on the stage. Everyone gets busy cleaning up, motivated by hunger and the desire to get done. Starlee walks across the gym and up the stage steps. She looks amazing in her dress—something I should have told her before. Sometimes when I’m around her, the words get caught in my throat. I’ve always had a hard time expressing myself verbally—with Starlee it’s both easier and harder. Easier because she’s fun and kind and understands me. Hard because the things I want to say to her—how I feel about her—scares me.

The scent of her shampoo arrives at the table before she does.

“Need any help?”

“I don’t think so,” I say, winding cords into organized clusters. She picks up one and copies me. “That turned out better than expected.”

“I think most of the kids had a good time,” she agrees. “How about you? I saw you dancing with a few lucky little girls.”

I laugh and push my glasses back up my nose. “Not sure how lucky they were. Except I guess that meant they didn’t have to dance with George. Seriously, I have never understood where all that energy comes from.” I look across the room at my brother, who’s actively stomping on balloons. “Or the confidence.”

“If it makes you feel better, neither do I. I’ve always worried about making a fool out of myself.” She shifts on her feet. “It’s crazy in a way, like, I know people aren’t paying attention to me. I was never the kid that was very popular or the center of attention, but that little nagging voice in my head convinced me otherwise. Tricking me into thinking everyone noticed everything about me all the time.” She shakes her head. “I know it’s illogical.”

---