Starstruck

Chapter 1a: Shifting orbits

A familiar voice made me turn, and there he was--Jimmy Franklin. Just as hot, blond and unattainable as he'd been last spring, but with a tan. He was laughing with two other boys and heading my way. I tried to screw up my courage to say hi, but all I managed was a little twitch of my hand as he passed.

He didn't notice. I hoped nobody else had.

When I walked into homeroom, Trina slanted a glance at me then turned to Donna Smith, one of her hangers-on. "My dad's getting me a car for my birthday," she said in a carrying voice. "He was going to buy one at the place here in town, but everyone knows the service sucks so we'll probably drive down to Indy instead."

Trina knew very well my Uncle Louie sold cars at the local dealership--and business had been so slow this last year his job was in danger. I tried to tell myself she was just acting out because her dad traveled a lot, but since he made up for it by showering her with stuff like cars and designer clothes, I didn't really believe myself.

Her father owned Squires Electronics and probably made ten times what my aunt and uncle did. My Aunt Theresa taught third grade. Trina's mom served on committees and stuff.

And even if her dad was gone a lot, at least Trina lived with both her parents. I didn't even know who my real parents were. Plus, Aunt Theresa made it clear in a hundred little ways that she resented the fact that I'd been left on her hands by Uncle Louie's "reckless" brother and sister-in-law, and that she fully expected me to turn out just as wild and irresponsible as they'd been. Which wasn't fair at all, considering I wasn't even related to them. Besides, it's not like they'd meant to fall off a mountain just a couple years after adopting me.

Just like on the bus, I tried to ignore Trina as I walked past, though this time I made sure no one had a leg out to trip me. I was about to take my usual seat behind her when I noticed that the schedule on that desk wasn't mine. It was labeled "Rigel Stuart"--the new quarterback everyone had been talking about. I hadn't realized he was only a sophomore.

I was just sliding into the next desk back when he walked into the room. It had to be him, since he was the only one here I didn't recognize. In a school of barely four hundred students any new kid was a standout but this guy would have turned heads anywhere. No wonder he was named after a star. Even in a plain white shirt and jeans, he was utterly gorgeous--tall, dark-haired and broad shouldered, with a face that belonged in a magazine fashion ad. His hazel eyes had lashes most girls would kill for, but his perfectly chiseled features and strong jaw were totally masculine. He was hands-down the best looking guy I'd ever seen.

The hum of voices muted as everyone turned to watch him but he didn't seem to notice. He just moved confidently to the desk Mrs. Cummins indicated--the desk in front of mine. I absolutely couldn't help staring but it really didn't matter, since every other girl in the room was doing the same. Trina was the first to speak to him. Of course.

"Hi! You must be Rigel. I'm Trina Squires. I'll be happy to show you around and everything today." Her tone implied that if he was interested, "everything" might include a lot more than just the school.

He paused, one hand on his desk, and looked at her with an odd, arrested expression. Trina's big blue eyes and strawberry blonde waves sometimes had that effect on boys, but I'd have thought a guy this hot would be so used to pretty girls throwing themselves at him he'd be immune. Apparently not.

"That would be nice," he replied, and his voice shot through me like an electric current, snapping my nerves to attention and leaving me breathless. "Maybe at lunchtime?"

I blinked and gave my head a little shake. He had a pleasant voice, low and smooth, but why should that make every single hair on my arms stand on end? I was no stranger to static electricity--in fact, I got teased for my weird ability to generate sparks year round, and for frying electronics on a regular basis-but this felt different. Plus, Rigel hadn't touched me. He hadn't even looked at me--and probably never would.