Page 17 of Starstruck

Breathe; it’s okay. You’ll be okay, so long as you keep to yourself.

I shrugged as I took him in, before getting a grip on my breathing, not wanting to let my guard down just yet. “If it means you start complaining about my unruly roommate etiquette to the university, meaning I get to go home, then I might just.”

The lies that clung to the tip of my tongue washed a fresh wave of nausea all over me, guilt swilling in my stomach that this was what my life had come to: lying to hide my past, lying about not wanting to be here, lying about everything.

I watched as a smirk bloomed across the guy’s face, quite devilish for someone so innocent-looking, as he took a seat on his bed, mirroring me. “Who would have thought it? The rockstar that is Tristan Harper, stuck in a dorm with a nobody.”

My breath hitched as his words reached my ears.

Bloody brilliant. The guy knows who I am.

I shake my head as a laugh erupts out of me, fake as anything. “Do you want a picture now, or do you want me to sign your arse or something?”

My roommate throws his head back as a deep laugh echoes around the room. “You know, I’m good. You’re not exactly my type of artist. I only know your face because it’s like… everywhere.” As I pull my lips in tight and nod at him, he sticks a hand out in the space between us. “But it’s nice to meet you. I’m Finn.”

I eye Finn before I eventually shake his hand; the worry that I’d felt seemed to fall off my back like water droplets off an umbrella.

“So what brings you here,Tristan?” The mock-British accent Finn puts on as he says my name makes me laugh, my first proper laugh since this morning.

A sigh rolls out of me as I push myself back against the wall, the tales and the lies I could go with to throw everyone off the scent of the truth piled up on the tip of my tongue, before I eventually plucked one from the pile and blurted out, “My parents.”

I cleared my throat, if only to give myself time to think about my story, until a light bulb went off in a dark corner of my brain. “They don’t think that I should fully trust what’s happening with my music, not until I’m certain that it’s going to support me for the rest of my life.”

Finn’s brows pulled together, seeming to buy the lie. “But you’re everywhere right now? Are you not making like a thousand dollars a second?”

I huffed a laugh, shuffling to escape the nerves. “It seems that everywhere isn’t enough.” I pull at my fingers for a second, dipping my eyes before I put them back on Finn. "And... not exactly. But I have enough that I could probably secure both you and me private off-campus accommodations for the next four years within the hour, if I wanted to.” Finn’s eyes get comically wide as I say that. “But my parents don’t want me to trust it, hence why I’m here getting a psychology degree that I never wanted in the first place.”

Not exactly a lie, but far from the truth. Still, it worked. Anything that kept my chances of getting an album and building a career after this was good enough. That’s what I was starting to tell myself, anyway—like I had any other choice but to believe it.

“So, like a backup plan?” Finn asks, undoing the laces of his high tops.

“I guess.” I shrugged, wanting to get off the subject. “But it’s still a piss take.”

Finn shrugs, and at the same time the corners of his mouth fall. “At least they care about you enough to give you a backup plan. You could be like me and my sister and be sent here with nothing but a pat on the back and the realisation that your dad has finally given up caring about what you do.”

Hmm, I sense Daddy issues with this one.

When the silence lingers just a second too long, Finn looks up at me. “Sorry, I’ll save the rest of that humbling story for when we’ve known each other longer than two minutes.”

The kid in me, the one who spent break times alone on a bench in the playground, is screaming to trust him, to finally build the kind of friendship I’ve never had before. But giving in that easily was what got me here in the first place.

My head grew heavy as the memories drowned me, reminding me what happened for me to be sat here right now, when I walkedwillingly into the dark.

january, 2023

“Fucking pussy. You really aren’t gonna get far mate if a few linesare making you nervous.”

Such class from Andreas Mandeville; heir to the Camp Mandevilleempire.

I wouldn’t have expected this from the son of the man who wasresponsible for all our childhood staycation memories. Andreas didn’t look like the smiling kid from the adverts anymore—the one with auburn hair, green eyes, and a grin that could light up a room. No, this version of him had wild pupils, and his hair a mess of curls as he leaned down to snort two quick lines. He arched his back with a groan, the noise getting lost somewhere between the thumping of my heart and the god-awful music this club insisted on paying. Even in the toilets.

“Fuck me, that shit is awful.”His head lolled back unnervingly, eyesblack as ink when they found me again.

I frowned, meeting his gaze."Then why do it?"

“God these toilets are vile!”

His entourage that I’d brushed past earlier— a girl and aguy—stumbled out of the neon haze from the club and fell in line behind him, as Andreas stared straight through me. As though what I’d asked held the most obvious answer.

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