Page 81 of Starstruck

“So do you want to explain this now, or shall I wait for him to burst out hereand challenge me to a dual for your hand?” His voice was laced with a mixture of amusement and something sharper, and I hated how it settled in my head.

I blinked, caught off guard by the flicker of worry in his eyes. It was strange, oddly comforting, to think he might care about me being here with Henry. A small part of me wanted to label it as jealousy, but what could Tristan possibly be jealous of? This wasn’t real. We weren’t real. So why did it matter to him?

But this side of him? This was new. Sure I knew he wanted to look out for me, that much was clear. But this? Something about it made me happy, as though that mischief I'd spotted in him was slowly seeping into me.

I shrugged, my hands falling uselessly by my sides, letting my mouthrun before my mind caught up. “Jealousy’s a sin, sir. Didn’t anyone teach you that?”

His lips twitched like he was fighting back a smile, one that made mystomach flip. “I never claimed to be a saint, Golds.” His voice dipped, as did his eyes. “So forgive me if I’m not sweating over the thought of burning in hell for being jealous that you’re sitting with that prick.”

There was something in his tone that left me speechless for asecond—the weight of his words heavy between us.

Hewasjealous.

But how was that possible if he’d been treating me like I didn’t existall week?

I shook my head. “Well, this was the plan from the start, wasn’t it?I help you keep your peace while you plan your great escape and help me get Henry.”

Tristan bit the inside of his lip. “Yeah, that was the plan until we found out thatHenry’s an arsehole.”

I rolled my eyes, more to buy me some time to think than anything else. “Well,plans change, Tristan. Okay? Henry likes me, and I’m assuming you don’t need me anymore, seeing as though you’ve been avoiding me and you're here on your own without me.” I shook my head, delving into the part of my mind I'd refused to venture into. "And if this was all pretend anyway, it shouldn't be that hard for you to accept that, right?"

His body was close enough that I could see the faint flecks of gold in his dark eyes, feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. Neither of us moved, suspended in the quiet tension, the world around us somehow fading into nothing.

“So,” he said quietly, almost to himself, “pretending, right?”

“Right,” I replied, my voice breathless, like I'd just finished a run.

He nodded, his gaze drifting down to where his fingers still lingered, gently clasped around mine. “We're using each other. That’s all this is. Selfish.”

“Exactly.” The word felt heavy, as if saying it could make it true. But neither of us let go, our hands clasped as if we were both unwilling to break the connection. He was so close, his presence radiating warmth, protecting me from the rain, though every nerve in me seemed to hum with fire.

For a second, he just looked at me, studying my face, his gaze softening in a way that made my heart pound like rolling thunder. “So, if I pulled away right now,” he murmured, “that’d be fine with you?”

I swallowed, the question lingering between us, heavy and unspoken. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, almost challenging. “Because you’re still holding on.”

I could feel my cheeks flush, but I didn’t move, didn’t let go. “You’re the one who hasn’t let go either.”

He laughed quietly, a low sound that made my stomach flip. “We're both stubborn then. And I thought we couldn't be more alike.”

“Are we, though?” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady even as my pulse betrayed me. “I want to be here, Tristan. I want this life.” I blinked, feeling the weight of every unspoken truth between us. “But you—you’re looking for a way out.” Our fingers unlaced. "The only reason we're like this is because it's pretend. We only make sense if we're pretending… right?"

I knew I should have stepped back, broken this spell before it pulled me under. But instead, I took a shaky breath, letting the moment linger a second longer. Letting a tiny strand of hope wrap around my heart that it wasn't just me who felt the lines blurring.

But as his thumb brushed ever so lightly over the back of my hand, he leaned in, just close enough that his lips hovered beside my ear, his voice a soft murmur. “Right,”

My eyes slowly fell shut, a faint quiver invading my bottom lip.

I felt my head shake as his moved away. How was I that stupid that I'd let myself get like this? So stupid. So hopeless. So lost in tower of my mind that I truly thought that I'd change this entire mans future because I leant into words that weren't real. When I knew they weren'teverreal.

But the way he looked at me in that moment, like he couldn’t pull himself away, told me there was more he wanted to say, something that felt real enough to bridge the quiet ache hanging between us. The world around us felt distant, the hum of the city fading until it was just the two of us in a strange, intimate bubble, close enough that I could feel his warmth against the cold air, close enough to make me forget why we couldn’t let this go any further.

And then, like it was the simplest thing in the world, he pulled back, leaving me there, my heart racing, with the sensation of his touch lingering like a secret neither of us would admit to.

His head dipped, and the sky cracked open with another burst ofthunder, the storm’s fury rattling the ground beneath us. I braced myself for him to confirm what I’d been dreading—that he was still leaving, and this was just his way of saying goodbye.

But he stayed silent, eyes fixed on the ground, and with each passing second, my chest tightened. It felt like every unspoken word between us was screaming the truth I was too afraid to hear: he was going, and he didn’t need me anymore. It was time to let go.

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