Lost in Starlight (Starlight Saga) (16 page)

“Let’s go back inside. But just know that I plan to continue
this
at a later date,” he says in a rough, sexy voice.

I can’t help but smile in response. I definitely want to hang out with him again.

The moment we walk inside, the crowd parts and a girl pushes through the throng and into the open. Flaxen curls frame the girl’s exquisite face, her slim frame is willowy in a halter-top and jeans, and her movements extraordinarily graceful.

“I’ve seen her before at school,” I say. “But she doesn’t go to Haven High.”

When the girl’s big brown eyes catch sight of Hayden, she lights up like a Fourth of July sparkler, and smiles really big.

“There you are, babe! Now get your cute butt over here and give your girlfriend a proper hello.”

Turning, I glance at Hayden. The corners of his mouth droop and the lines crisscrossing his forehead deepen. The girl comes skipping across the room, her curls bouncing like a shampoo commercial. She launches herself into his arms and plants her red lips to his mouth like a suction cup in a sickening display of adoration.

Suddenly it feels as if I’m in a romance movie, but I’ve been bumped from the starring role. The sight of them lip-locking makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a rusty spoon. I’m so surprised that I actually stumble back. My stomach drops down somewhere around my ankles.

I did not see this one coming. Not happening. This is
not
happening.

Hayden has a freakin’ girlfriend.

My chest constricts at the mental images of that beautiful girl hugging and kissing Hayden.
My
Hayden. About ten seconds after that gross display of affection, I flee the party—catching a ride with this boy from my Bio class—and go straight home.

I stamp inside my house and practically slam the door. I fling off my coat, missing the hook on the rack and it lands on the floor. I don’t even bother picking it up. Teeth grinding, I dash up both sets of stairs to my room.

Yanking off my clothes, I change into PJs and crawl into bed, but sleep seems impossible. So my night turned out to be epic, all right. An epic fail.

Images of Hayden and that skinny girl induce my upchuck reflex. I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face into my pillow, but it doesn’t erase the flashes of those long, thin legs wrapped around Hayden. A single tear escapes, but I resolve not to cry. After tossing and turning for hours, I finally manage to drift off into a restless slumber.

In the morning, I wake up with a moan, my heart aching and the sheets twisted into ropes around my legs. I listen for a moment to determine whether anyone in the house is up yet, but it’s quiet. No early risers in the Masterson household. The stillness helps me to go over the horrible events of last night because I have a lot of stuff to think about.

Mostly Hayden, Hayden, Hayden.

The same tormenting thoughts keep repeating in my mind. Like…

Hayden ditching me for some beautiful, skinny blonde. The gross way she was rubbing up on him with her perfect body and her perky boobs. Doesn’t he realize that’s all foam and underwire? The major shock. And feeling stupid for trusting him. Then an odd sense of betrayal.

My crushing romantic expectations feel heavy like corpses on my shoulders. What was I thinking, anyway? Why would a guy like Hayden really want someone like me? I’m a mere subhuman and he’s like a Greek god. And there’s no way I’m messing around with a guy who has a girlfriend. Painful lesson learned about guys like
him
—who don’t usually go for overweight girls like me. From now on, I need to protect my heart.

Dammit. And I bought into the whole poor alien thing! I roll over and punch the crap out of my pillow.

So I don’t drive myself completely insane thinking about it, I throw back the blankets and get up. I shuffle downstairs and into the bathroom to shower. The warm water is soothing, and I try to get a grip on my rambling emotions. One minute I want to cry, and seconds later, I want to rip him apart. Pouring a dollop of lavender-scented shampoo into my palm, I let the hot spray pour down my back and scrub at my hair. Purple dye runs down the drain along with my hopes of a real relationship with that Two-Timing-Alien-Boy.

Tears swim in my eyes and I give myself a much needed pep talk.

“Stop all this self-pitying crap. He’s not worth it. Time to pull up your big girl panties.”

I refuse to be one of those silly girls whose entire world stops spinning over some half-human who’s supposed to follow the rules of alien supremacy. I will not waste another second of my day with thoughts of Hayden.

Getting out of the shower, I put on my bathrobe and march upstairs to my room.

I go over to my iPod, resting on my desk, and choose “Titanium,” a song by
Sia,
then crank the volume. This amazing tune seems to fit my mood, present state of mind, and my current life.

Instead of getting dressed, I peel away the robe, as if separating myself of the barrier between hope and reality. Hope that Hayden had liked me for
me
, and the reality that guys as hot as him, rarely give the time of day to a plump girl like myself.

Humming to the song, I stare at myself in the full-length mirror. No wonder I’m a target. All of Zach’s jabs about my weight are buzzing through my brain like a bad disco song. Add Devin’s lusty staring and that skinny bitch kissing Hayden, and I want to smash every mirror in the house, starting with this one. What cretin invented full-length mirrors, anyway? But I take a good hard look at myself naked, now that I’m utterly vulnerable and exposed. I turn this way and that.

Great. I resemble a naked Gummy Bear.

My body appears soft and curvaceous, but I wish my jumbo boobs were smaller. My stomach has a roll that I’d like to work off, but nothing too grotesque. Tucking in my bottom lip, I decide I have “Marilyn Monroe” curves. I’m a Renaissance woman and I should be proud of my body. I’ve spent most of my life dealing with self-esteem issues and I’m done. My dad’s always saying that the way you see yourself is much more important than the way other people perceive you and he’s right.

I’m not a skinny girl trying to get out of a fat chick’s body. I’m just
me
—chubby Sloane Masterson—and I am totally okay with that. I may not be super thin like Viola or all legs like that girl from the party, but I like my figure. It’s time to stop being so self-conscious and live with what I got. To hell with Zach and his fat-shaming commentary.

With that newfound determination, I also decide that I’m not going to sit home and mope all day. After I eat breakfast, I’ll go hang out at the graveyard and chat with Grandma about anything,
except
Hayden Lancaster.

From the closet, I grab a cute top with a skull decal and exposed shoulders, a pair of black leggings, and my awesome lace-up wedge boots. Once I’m dressed, I start to brush out my hair.

Clink.

I freeze. Out of the corner of my eye, a small rock strikes one of the windows again. My stomach leaps into my throat. Who the hell is throwing pebbles at my window?

“Someone with a death wish,” I mutter, stomping closer and tugging the drapes open.

I yank up the pane to peer down at the lawn. Someone steps into view—
my stalker?
—scaring the breath out of me.

“Hey!” Hayden calls up to me with wrinkled brows.

In the movies, it’s considered romantic to throw rocks at a girl’s window. Well, in real life it would be under different circumstances.

My stomach clenches into knots so tight a Boy Scout would earn a special merit badge trying to unravel them. The walls I’ve been carefully constructing around my heart all morning start to crumble when I see Hayden. And I can’t help worrying about what weird thing my tangled hair is doing—

Stop right there! I don’t care. Because he has a girlfriend.

“Ever heard of a doorbell?” Leaning out the window, my pulse spikes at the sight of him. “What do you want?”

“I had to see you, Sloane.” He runs a hand through his tousled hair. “You left so quick last night that I didn’t have a chance to explain.”

“That’s because your mouth was busy.”

“I figured Tama caused your hasty exit,” he says with a frown.

“Gee, Hayden. You’re even smarter than I thought.”

“Can you please come down here, so we can talk?” He jiggles the pebbles still clutched in his hand and sighs before looking back up at me. “I’m not leaving until you do.”

I hesitate, unsure I want to hear
anything
he has to say, but if I don’t go, he’ll probably wake up my family.

“I’m not budging.” Hayden folds his arms over his chest, obviously making himself comfortable.

For a minute, I bite the inside of my cheek and ponder going down there. Oh, god. He has that
look
. The one that says he’ll literally break into my house and drag me out by the hair. And I’m not sure if the thought of him—storming the castle, so to speak—scares me or thrills me more.

Gazing down at him, I make a snap decision. Not a logical one.

“Wait there,” I say and close the window.

Quickly brushing out my hair, I decide to let it dry naturally, then hurry downstairs and out the front door. Brisk morning air envelopes me, the skies crammed with lazy sunshine and chirping birds. The spring weather in Northern California can be fickle; freezing cold one day and blistering hot the next. And right now, I’m like a hurricane ready to blow.

Hayden is waiting for me near his SUV, and I keep a safe distance between us.

“Tama is
not
my girlfriend. Honest.” He briefly closes his eyes and rubs his forehead with long fingers. “She’s just a good friend and we’ve...well, hooked up a few times last year. She goes to my old school in Castro Valley, but I haven’t seen her in months.”

“Let me guess, sucking face is how they greet people on your planet? Nice try.” I cross my arms and glance at my boots. I need something to look at other than his gorgeous face. Otherwise, I’m in serious danger of stupidly believing everything he says.

“That’s just Tama...you weren’t jealous, were you?”

Yes!

My head snaps up and I throw my hands in the air. “I just don’t want to get caught up in some warped love triangle. I don’t need the drama.”

He bobs his head, his arms wide at his sides. “Fine. I get that.”

I shuffle two steps closer to him. Huge mistake. The closer I get, the higher my body temperature rises.

“Let’s just say last night was a colossal mistake,” I say firmly, resolved to stick to my guns.

Hayden takes my hand, causing my heart to skip an alarming number of beats. I hazard a glance at his face. Bad move. God, those remarkable eyes. A person could die happy just gazing into them. But. Not. Me. I will not be a weak, simpering ball of need.

“Please believe me, Sloane. It’s over with Tama,” he says in a soft voice. “And I
don’t
want to pretend that last night never happened. We had a moment, right? You must’ve felt it, too.”

“Was that the moment you had with me or with Tama?” I jerk my hand from his. “Or maybe she’s more your kind? Is she a hybrid, too?”

Hayden kicks at the ground. “Yes.” He glances anxiously at my face. “Just have breakfast with me, Sloane, so I can prove to you that I’m not a jerk.”

Alone? With Hayden?

Don’t do it. Do not do it.

I stare at him, imagining a giant neon sign above his head that reads:
WARNING! Lying-girlfriend-haver!

While he stays quiet, I try to come up with a quick excuse. I cannot go. I need to keep this relationship strictly platonic. Because the whole time I’ll just be thinking about kissing that perfect mouth. His soft, warm lips—

“Well, Peaches?” he asks. “Can we go someplace and talk?”

My mind races. Dang it. I have nothing going on today, and I can’t even construct a reasonable lie. I really need a life outside of horror movies and shopping and journalism. Part of me is extremely curious about this Tama girl. And my damn curiosity is going to get me killed one of these days.

I know I shouldn’t go, but I can’t resist that strange, irresistible
pull
of Hayden. Another look in those incredible eyes and I’m a goner. I am
so
gonna regret this.

“Fine.” A sigh creeps past my lips. “I’ll go.”

I climb into Hayden’s SUV, and we speed off in the direction of Haven Beach. The radio is off and the silence feels unbearable. How I’m going to manage keeping my shit together for the twenty-minute drive is beyond me. I swallow down a sudden lump in my throat. Dating Alien Boy is getting too complicated. Especially, when deep down I know he’s the type that’s all wrong for me, but just like chocolate, I can’t seem to stay away.

Seconds tick by in silence. They feel more like decades.

“How are you?” he asks.

I look out the window. “I’m fine.”

He inhales sharply. “You’re lying.” He reaches over the console and clasps my hand. “Look at me, please.”

“I need a minute—”

“Sloane, please.”

Do not cry.
Do not cry.
Do not cry.

“I was being stupid…I thought…” My gaze stays fixed on the houses blurring past. “Oh, I don’t know what I thought.” My voice is hoarse as I try to keep my emotions in check.

He firmly squeezes my hand. “I’m really sorry…I just want to talk. No pressure or anything.”

I don’t respond, but a small sigh escapes me.

“I should’ve been honest from the beginning about everything,” he says. “I don’t know why I thought Tama would be a non-issue.”

I tense at the mention of that bitch’s name.

“There’s a lot I need to tell you.” He sighs and continues, “And I can’t gauge your reaction and drive at the same time…” his voice trails off.

“Hayden,” I begin, my tone brittle. “I’m not quite sure how you’re going to explain everything, but I’m willing to listen.”

I totally don’t need the silence that engulfs the interior of the car right then. The soft hum of the engine nearly drives me insane, and I think about recanting everything I just said.

Hayden clears his throat. “Thank you. Your friendship means a lot to me.”

I relax. A little. Not wanting to talk in the car anymore, I flip on the stereo and pick a radio station that plays alternative music. Christina Perri’s soulful voice fills the car with “Jar of Hearts,” and I feel as though my own heart is stuffed inside a jar and haphazardly sitting on the dashboard. Like I’m just waiting for a car to unexpectedly slam into the SUV and shatter—heart, jar, everything.

Two more songs play, and I find myself thinking this was a shitty station to choose because both songs focus on bad breakups.

As we approach the entrance to Haven Beach, the SUV slows, and Hayden flips on the blinker. The soft
tick, tick, tick
matches the racing of my heartbeat. I squeeze his fingers as he makes the turn, then let go of his hand.

He parks and two joggers race past. We glance at a wrinkly old man in a yellow Speedo sunning himself. Cue Richard Simmons…

Then red-faced, unquenchable hilarity hits us hard—a laughing fit that robs it’s victims of balance, sanity, and any shred of dignity. I’ve never heard Hayden laugh like this and the sound is like warm, melting chocolate on a hot summer day.

When we regain control of ourselves, Hayden hops out and opens the back door to remove a small cooler, thermos, and blanket.

Getting out of the car, I eye the stuff. “You were pretty sure I’d say yes.” And I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“No. Only hoped.” Hayden regards me closely, his expression unreadable as he points at the beach. “C’mon, beyond this dune is a place where we can have some privacy.”