Page 13 of Starstruck

“Right, well… thank you.” I rush the words so quickly that even I have to question what I’ve said. But I have other things to worry about, like the outfit that’s ruined. Like the class I’m nearly late for. More importantly, the fact that I have no idea where that class even is.

I glance at the stranger again before stepping back, eyes dropping to my soaked top. The coffee smell is already settling in, and I can picture it—everyone steering clear of the girl who smells like stale coffee and looks like she’s crawled out of a pond.

But as my eyes are down, I notice the Converse that aren’t walking away.

Quick as anything, I shoot my head back up, finding him still standing there. I shrug as I tilt my head at him. “Do you have somewhere to be or are you just admiring your work?” I ask, pointing at my tee.

Mr No Name’s lips twitch, like he’s fighting back a smile. He glances down, shifting on his feet, rubbing a hand over his jaw. A quick shake of his head, then, “Got anything to change into?”

I blink up at him. “Yeah, I actually keep spare outfits in my already overpacked bag just for situations like this.” The smile that lands on his face is the definition of sarcastic, forcing his dimples to shadow his face.

I shake my head at him. “No, and my dorm is too far to go back to now.”

It’s then that the embarrassment catches up with me and forces my eyes to the floor, tracing the puddle lines of the rest of my coffee that I have to grieve, along with the rest of my apple pie that I hadn’t even realised I’d dropped until now.

That was $8 I was never getting back.

Luckily, as I scanned the white fabric of my skirt, it’s still white, meaning it’s just the top half of my outfit I have to worry about.

“'Ere,”

His deep voice pulls me out of my outfit check, dragging my eyes back to him. He’s hunched over his backpack, sorting through whatever’s inside before he stands back to his full height a second later… with what looks like a black T-shirt in his hand.

I didn’t say anything. All I did was stare at whatever it was, and then look back to him.

His brown eyes rolled as he pulled the thing open, revealing that the thing was a black t-shirt, with some sort of faded band logo in the centre.

I felt my lip curl the longer I looked at it. “And exactly how long has that lived in there? Or did it come free with the bag?” I asked, pulling at its hem.

A laugh breezed through his nose as he nodded his chin at me. “Not long, but I think the fact it’s not covered in coffee is the only thing that matta's, don’t you?”

For someone with an accent that could melt steel, he sure knew how to get under my skin. That smirk of his—he was enjoying this, and the smugness sent an irritated tingle crawling up my spine.

“I’m not wearing that,” I shot back, shaking my head as a humourless smile invaded my face.

Whoever he was then sank his bottom lip between his teeth, shaking his head at me as he did. “Well, I hope you enjoy walking around this place in a top that’s becoming more see-through by the second—”

“Fine.” I gritted out, before darting my eyes to his.

Mischief just seemed to exist around this guy, living in every corner of his face. But its home was in his eyes—in the onyx sparkle that sat right in the centre.

I couldn’t tell whether I wanted to explore it or whether I wanted to never see it again.

Regretfully, I shook my hand at him, and a second later, his shirt was in my hands, his fingertips grazing mine. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it, it was just that black wasn’t a colour that lived in my wardrobe.

But he was right, the fact it didn’t smell like coffee and made it look like I entered a wet t-shirt contest before my 9:00 AM class was all that mattered.

And as much as I didn’t want to thank him, I mirrored him and bit my bottom lip as a “thank you,” slipped out of my mouth.

Pride coated the smile that shone down on me, as his eyes traced the lines on my face. “The pleasure’s all mine.” The way he inched his body down caused waves of wood and salt air to crash over me, so hard I had to shut my eyes for a second, before his voice forced them open in the same second. “Next time we crash into each other, I’ll get it back from you.”

With each step he took away from me, it felt as though the sky was clearing, like he was a storm that had infiltrated the city. And I wish I didn’t have to rush to class, because I was sure I needed at least a week to get over whatever that was and get my thoughts off the track they were steaming down.

By the time I’d caught my breath, he was gone, and the hallway was clear for me to get my bearings and try and find the nearest bathroom so I could change.

“It’s not covered in coffee. That’s the main thing.”

I told myself that as I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, after retracing my steps—down the stairs I’d just climbed and through the same identical hallways that had already gotten me lost.

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