Star


    Nothinges up. I got nothing. My stalking skills are totally shit.N?velDrama.Org holds this content.


    Who are you?


    I hate that I can’t find him. I must be typing in the wrong name, I wish I could remember how it was


    spelt.


    A  group  of  men  are  walking  down  the  road  toward  the  cab  rank  and  as  they  draw  closer,  I  see  a


    familiar tall figure among them. That’s when I see that the second man on the right is him. My heart starts


    to beat in excitement. Oh, I need to get a grip. This is beyond pale. He’s a pig, remember, you fool? His


    eyes meet mine, never breaking contact as he stares at me while the group walks past us. My eyes follow


    him as he crosses the street to walk off in the other direction. Detion fills me. It figures. Of course he


    doesn’t even want to talk to me.


    Star stops mid-step for a moment, his back to me, pausing as if thinking, and I find myself holding my


    breath. What is he doing?


    Then, suddenly, he turns and walks back to the cab rank,ing right up to me, and I stop breathing


    pletely.


    He takes my face in his hands and kisses me, all suction all domination, and I feel as though my feet


    are about to lift off the ground.


    The other people all lined up in the cab line start to cheer at his bold move.


    The earth stops and he kisses me again, gently sliding his tongue between my lips.


    He pulls back and looks at me, then turns and walks away without saying a single word.


    I stand frozen on the spot as I watch him turn the corner, disappearing into the darkness.


    “What the hell was that?” Brielle whispers.


    I shake my head. I have no words; nothing that makes sense anyway.


    “He  can’t  just  kiss  you  when  he  feels  like  it  and  then  walk  away.  What  an  arrogant  twat,”  she


    whispers, outraged.


    I smile at the darkness that he disappeared into.


    “Apparently, he can,” I smirk.


    “What are you smiling at?” Brielle frowns.


    I raise my fingertips and run them over my buzzing lips. Did that really just happen?


    “The man can kiss,” I whisper through my smile. “The man can definitely kiss.”


    I stand behind her watching as she brushes her hair in the mirror. She ces the hairbrush down onto


    the dresser and carefully braids her hair in preparation for bed. She’s happy, so happy. The smile is


    beaming from her face and it’s as if I can feel it. A huge smile crosses my face. Oh, it’s a good day for


    her.


    Why? Why is she so happy?


    Do I know why?


    I  frown  as  I  try  to  remember.  Yes,  I  do.  He  spoke  to  her  today.  His  longing  nces  turned  into  a


    conversation. Just a few words from him mean so much. She smiles at herself in the mirror and I find


    my own smile reflecting hers. She finishes her hair, turns down her bed and blows out herntern. The


    room falls dark and yet I still feel her smiling into the darkness, her happiness filling the room.


    Emerson


    I wake with a jump as the gentle sun beams on my face through the fine curtains in my bedroom, and I sit


    up in a rush.


    What was that? Shit.


    A dream-a weird, realistic dream about a young girl with long dark hair and beautiful pale skin. It


    must have been a long time ago based on the nightdress she wore. What a weird thing for me to dream of?


    I sit for a moment to try and clear the memory of the beautiful girl, running my fingertips over my lips. I


    smile softly to myself. I have been floating on air since Mr. Twinkle kissed mest night. In fact, I don’t


    remember ever being this excited over a random one-off kiss from a stranger. It’s only early, but for some


    reason I am buzzing and I don’t feel hung over or tired at all. I can hear Hank and Vanessa talking in the


    lounge room before I make my way out to them.


    “Good morning.” I smile as I scratch my hair. I’m wearing nnelette pajamas and it is so refreshing


    that I am not self-conscious this early in our new friendship.


    “Hey,” Vanessa calls from theundry room.


    “How was your night?” Hank asks from his ce on the floor as he watches cartoons. He is wearing


    his standard Tiger stripe satin boxer shorts and a daggy t-shirt. I smile as I look down at him with his head


    propped up on a pillow watching television. Hank has sandy blonde hair that isn’t really in a style, just


    overgrown. He has facial hair that isn’t really a beard, either, just overgrown whiskers, and he is really


    thin and tall. He’s so dorky that he has actually crossed over to super trendy.


    “I had the best night ever.” I smile as I flop onto the lounge.


    He looks back over his shoulder and smiles. “Did you meet someone you like better than yourself


    then?”