Page 71 of Stardusted
But then there waseverything else.
The repeated questions about the crash. The pressure. The way he didn’t buy my deflections. Tonight, he’d pushed harder about the university, too. He’d said he was just worried, but I’d seen the look in his eyes. He wasn’t just concerned.
He wasdigging.
And then there was the fact that he’d shown up at Crescent in the first place. Which, sure, maybe notcompletelyweird. It was one of the only decent clubs in town. But I’d never seen him there before. Not once. And Amelia and I had been going there foryears. If Sky had shown up, I’d have noticed.
My gut sank deeper.
Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence.
Maybe…he’d followed me.
The thought slid through me like a glacier. I rubbed my arms beneath the thin dress, trying to erase it. It was ridiculous. Sky wasn’t a stalker. Right?
…Right?
How much did Iactuallyknow about Sky Acosta? As much as anybody at Oasis. Which wasn’t saying much.
One thing was obvious: he was looking for something. Answers.
But what smarted—the worst part of all this byfar—was the manipulation.
He had to know I had a crush on him. Ofcoursehe did. I’d been pining after him like a lovesick idiot for six months. Anyone with a pair of eyes and two working brain cells could tell. I turned tomato red every time he said my name. Or, rather, a variation of it. He must’ve noticed.
Which begged the question: what if he saw an opportunity to use it? Maybe that smile, that damned dimple, the way he moved when he danced…maybe it wasn’t about me. It was aboutaccess. A way to get what he wanted.
The thought made my insides wither with mortification, even as righteous anger flushed my cheeks. God, I was an idiot. I’d really thought I’d caught his attention. I should’ve known better.
The memory of his thighs against mine, the strength of his arms flickered unwelcome across my mind. I shoved it down. No more. I wasn’t wasting another second daydreaming about him.
Resolve stiffened my spine, and I glared out the windshield. He’d picked the wrong girl to manipulate. I might’ve been infatuated, but I wasn’t a fool. And I definitely wasn’t a pushover.
Time to get my head on straight about Sky.
The rideshare driver slowed down Cherry Street and rolled to a stop at the intersection. I exhaled, slow and steady. Good riddance. I had more important things to worry about, like finding real answers.
It was time to find out why Sky was so obsessed with my car wreck. With the school. With Kelly’s not-so-crazy theories.
Withaliens.
Was he secretly a blog-lurking ET fanatic? Maybe he ran one of those forums I’d doom-scrolled the other night and was trying to piece things together, same as me.
There’d been something in his eyes tonight, though. Complicated emotion. Almost like he was holding something back.
I imagined confronting him. Telling him everything. The idea made me grimace. Maybe I’d misread the whole thing, but until I knewhisangle, I wasn’t blurting out a damn thing.
He was going to tellmewhat he knew. Not the other way around.
The car pulled up outside Bob’s, and I climbed out after a muttered thanks. I paused at the curb, digging in my clutch for my key. My marked palm caught the porch light, the design shimmering faintly.
My stomach flipped. I curled my fingers into a fist.What would Sky say aboutthat?Probably launch into twenty more questions.
A cold breeze tickled the back of my neck, and I looked around. My skin prickled. The quiet around me wasn’t right. Too heavy. Too still.
I turned in place. The oak tree in Bob’s front yard creaked, bare limbs rattling. Across the street, the asphalt gleamed beneath the broken streetlight, the yard beyond shrouded in shadow.
It was late. Most of the windows on the block were dark. Curtains drawn tight. Even the stars were tucked behind a heavy quilt of lingering clouds.
