Page 16 of Starstruck

I looked back over my shoulder at the bald bowling ball in a safety vest that grunted at me as he pushed past, his buddy to the left of him booming a laugh as he angled his head over his shoulder.

“Charming,” I muttered to myself, before rolling my eyes at the pair and dragging my eyes back to the street and keeping my head down all the way until I reached the address I’d been told I’d be living at.

I kept my eyes glued to the pavement until my phone’s map told me I’d arrived. Lifting my gaze, I scanned the buildings, finally spotting the one with the name I’d been looking for.

This isn’t home. This isn’t home. This isn’t home.

The chant rang in my ears, mingling with the car horns and the distant heckles as I pulled out my student ID to scan into the building. It was all I heard as I pushed past the revolving door and made headway for the lift. It was what made my head fall into my hands on the way up to the fifteenth floor.

You left home for a reason. You left home for a reason. You left home for a reason!

I screamed the words back at myself as the ding from the lift pulled me out of my thoughts, and as the doors glided open, two girls appeared on the other side.

Whatever conversation they were having died as their eyes landed on me. And despite the silent prayer recital I was doing in my head, one that pleaded with any type of God that these girls didn’t recognise me, their eyes widened, and their knowing smiles stretched.

“Holy shit, are you Tristan Harper?” The brunette asked, as though she were staring at music royalty, not some indie musician who had only just emerged into the limelight.

“Um, yeah.” I stuttered, my smile tightening as I watched the pair nervously pull at their sleeves, avoiding eye contact, like they’d turn to stone if they looked directly into them. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The blonde then sprang her head up, as the lift doors closed and the thing started going up again. “Oh my God,” she gasped, turning to her friend. “Is this the guy who sings ‘Second Star’?”

The brunette nodded at her. “Yep, and ‘Neverland’.”

Two of my songs that had gone the most viral, it seemed.

“Holy shit.” The blonde echoed before eyeing me. “Do you… go here?”

“No.” I fired back, as I watched the gleam leave their expressions. “Just visiting a friend.”

My dad’s voice sounded in my head, distant echoes of him telling me to keep to myself travelling to the deepest corners up there. He was right, though. No matter how much I didn’t want to admit it, he was.

I’d quickly realised that if there was any way to keep a low profile, and keep my secrets locked away for good, it was to stay in the shadows, and find a home somewhere among them. That meant keeping whatever circle of friends I’d make small, making sure that the ones I did keep close weren’t going to ask questions.

And if pretending that I didn’t go here, that being here was the last thing I ever wanted to do, if that steered people away from discovering the truth, then that was what I’d do.

Come to think of it, I’d do anything to make sure not a word of this slipped from my grasp and spread like flames across a forest.

“Oh.” The blonde sighed, and the few moments of silence made me think that whatever this was was over.

Until the brunette lifted her eyes back to me, her smile was the definition of flirty. “Well, maybe next time you’re in the building you can visit some new friends—”

The ding from the elevator as it reached my floor interrupted the end of her sentence, a sigh of relief rolling through me as I nudged past the pair and escaped into the corridor, their giggles fading out the further I walked away.

I followed the signs that led to my dorm, and soon enough I was standing in front of a door with a plastic sign reading ‘Dorm 1412’ bolted to the front. A rush of air fell from my nose before I eventually twisted the handle and stepped into the room.

Two identical twin beds greeted me as I crept in, though one side of the room already looked lived-in, decked out with posters and fresh bedding. To my left, the smallest kitchen I’d ever seen, and across from that, a tiny bathroom. The whole space was no bigger than the foyer in the Kensington townhouse. Charging students to live here felt like daylight robbery.

My Converse tapped on the wooden floor as I made my way to my side, spotting my guitars stacked at the foot of the bed. I opened the drawers to find my clothes, neatly folded—thanks to Janie, the sweetheart.

I tossed my backpack onto the dark grey sheets, unfamiliar but oddly comforting, like the clouds outside that now blocked the autumn sun, casting moody shadows across the room.

Pathetic fallacy being a knob, as per.

I launched myself up onto the bed, surprise rolling through me as I sank into the soft mattress and cosy sheets. I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at the opposite side of the room, tracing the decor that my roommate had set up, when I caught a glimpse of a figure in my peripheral, my head snapping to face it.

“Do you plan on leaving our door open for strangers to walk into all the time?” The guy with hair that looked like a blonde version of mine, green eyes, and a broad build snickered as he emerged through the door and closed it behind him.

It was pathetic how quickly my heartbeat began to spike, and I felt my breaths shift from light to heavy.

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