Page 36 of Starstruck

Her eyes softened. “Hey, look, I know you’re stressed; I can’t imagine what it must be like tomove so far away from home, all the way to a different country, all by yourself, and still have the pressures from your music.” Her head dropped to her lap for a second, before latching her eyes on me again. “And you’ve got all this work to do, plus you’re learning a different culture and… I just feel for you, Tristan.”

"Oh," I sighed, barely echoing. I think it was sincerity of it. The sympathy, or what looked like sympathy, that shone in her eyes.

In that moment, I saw Jemyma. And it hit me then, that familiarity I couldn't place with her before. Not in the way she looked, but in the quiet, almost magnetic confidence she wore like armor, as if it powered her every move. That kind of self-assurance that seemed unbreakable, like it had been built over time, layer by layer. But there was more. Beneath the boldness, there was a softness, a sweetness she kept hidden, tucked just out of reach. And the first time I glimpsed it with Jem, I knew I’d found a friend.

Maybe Becca was like that too; the type to show the world only her sharp edges, but let her guard down, let her peel away the armour, and she’d be the one who sees past your bravado, picking up on feelings even you’re not ready to face. A good person, grounded at her core.

But things got messy with Jemyma. To the point where I never truly saw that softness unless she was high. One night after another fucked-up trip to Palm 22, we ended up shagging in the back of her car at four in the morning. I was too high to question it, and maybe too hopeful to care. She was stunning, undeniably so, and I wanted to believe that maybe—just maybe—the gentle side she kept locked away was something she’d chosen to show only me.

She never remembered. Sleeping with me. The next night, when I pulled her aside, asked if she was okay after what we did, she just blinked at me, confusion drifting across her gaze like waves over glass. The only thing she seemed to recall was the new Molly we'd tried.

That was when it hit me—whatever goodness I’d seen in her was a flicker buried in the dark center of her. A faint glimmer, but nowhere near strong enough to light anything beyond itself. She was a Christmas light that was barely lit.

Becca’s voice pulled me from the memory, her eyes reflecting the same sympathy I’d seen earlier. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.” Her words were soft, sincere, stripped of the casual, flirty tone she usually wore like a second skin.

For once, I found it comforting, like I’d been waiting for someone to really see me, not just the guy trying to play catch-up in this new life. A part of me wanted to thank her, to tell her how hard it had been to adapt to all this—college, the endless faces, the lies, the noise of it all. Maybe, if I let myself, I’d have looked at her a little differently right then, reminded myself not to be such a dick'ead and judge her too quickly.

I’d do all of that… if it weren’t for the fact that her hand, thatwas resting on her lap a second ago, was now grazing my thigh, gliding higher and higher before I scraped my chair along the wooden floor, the noise echoing off the bookcases as a gasp came from her.

“And what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I asked her, myvoice as quiet as I could make it. Although I could feel my hands shaking with panic, as it wrapped itself around my veins and froze me in place.

Becca had the cheek to leave her hand right where it was, shaking her head and letting out one of those giggles like groping me was as normal as ordering a pint. “Have you never had a girl hit on you before?”

I nodded, keeping my face frozen, hoping it would keep how fast my heart was beating to myself. “Plenty of times, though they usually don’t get their hands on me unless I give the green light.”

Her eye roll was insulting, making me feel stupid for assuming there was any sincerity that lived in that stare at all. “It’s not a big deal, Tristan, everyonedoes it. Haven’t you heard about the library dare?” My still face told her my answer better than words could. “It’s this thing that students in the eighties started here at Liberty, the dare was to hit as many bases as you could without making a sound or getting caught.”

My tired eyes narrowed at her. “And were you gonna tell me thisbefore or after we hit the first base.”

One of her shoulders lifted. “It slipped my mind.”

Well, what would you know? Another fucking Christmas light.

Her eyes fell to her hand, as did mine, as shemoved it higher towards the inside of my thigh. “I thought I'd help, maybe relive some of that stress that's—”

“Oh, shit!”

I know that voice.Ihatethat I know that voice.

“My bad, I’ll just um… I’ll… I’m, gonna go.”

I turned my head quick enough to catch the end of her figurerunning behind one of the bookcases, my feet itching to take me after her. Becca giggled behind me as I began to gather my things, the noise like sharpened claws dragging down my back, so I turned around and hissed, “Just so we’re clear, this”—I waved my hand dramatically between me and her—“is never going to happen. Touch me again, and I’ll make sure you’re not allowed within ten feet of me. Got it?”

I turned my back on her, ignoring whatever it was she called afterme, and headed for Goldie.

My body zigzagged between the shelves, catching my shoulders onthe corners as I ran between them, before I eventually found her, pacing between the narrow aisles of the bookcases with a stack of books tucked against her chest. I wiped the sheen of sweat from my forehead as I reached her, startling her as I got closer.

My breath caught as I rushed out, “Hey,I’m sorry about that—”

“Oh, God, no, no, it’s fine. You don’t have to apologise.” She shook herhead, like she was trying to wipe the memory of seeing Becca’s hand on my thigh out of her head. “So I… I take it the project is going… well?” She practically choked the words, her smile as innocent as her eyes looked.

I shook my head. “That… that wasn’t what it looked like, I promise.I… didn’t want that.”

Her doh-eyes only widened once she caught on to what I wasn’tsaying, and coupled with the panic slicking my words, it probably painted the perfect picture for her.

“She…” She stumbled over the words. “She groped you? In themiddle of the library?”

I nodded, dropping her gaze and pathetically muttering, “Yep.”

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