Starstruck

by Brenda Hiatt



  STARSTRUCK

  Brenda Hiatt

  Copyright 2013 by Brenda Hiatt

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between actual events or persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

  ISBN-13: 978-1-940618-01-2

  DEDICATION

  For Bethany, Dawn and Keith, my first readers and greatest encouragers. Thank you.

  CHAPTER 1: Shifting orbits

  I boarded the bus on the first day of school with a weird sense of anticipation. Even after nine years as the class dork, I couldn't quite squelch a fizzy little hope that this year would be different.

  Maybe this year Jimmy Franklin would finally notice I existed. I was fifteen now and marginally less awkward than I'd been last year as a freshman. Maybe I'd do something wild and daring, like, oh, run for treasurer of the French Club. I might even get elected, since last year they'd had to arm-twist someone into doing it.

  The familiar sour-stale schoolbus smell—like old french fries that had been baking in the Indiana sun all summer, with maybe a whiff of vomit—took some of the fizz out of my mood. It was the smell of a dozen past humiliations. Still, I clung to what I hoped was a confident half-smile as I headed for an empty seat two-thirds of the way back.

  "Wow, Marsha, nice blouse."

  It was Trina Squires, of course—my nemesis. Trina was everything I wasn't: pretty, rich, popular, athletic. And we'd more or less hated each other ever since that bracelet incident back in third grade.

  "Get dressed in the dark again?" she continued.

  My best friend Bri, who had about fifty times more fashion sense than me, had picked out my outfit—a cute white cap-sleeve blouse dotted with tiny blue stars, and denim capris. I totally trusted Bri's taste. Not wanting Trina to think I cared what she said, I passed her before glancing down at myself.

  Oh. Crap. Nice blouse, yeah—buttoned one button off. How did I not notice that before I left the house? Hitching my tattered green backpack a little higher, I tried to cover the neckline, where it was most obvious.

  And tripped over Bobby Jeeter's foot, which he'd stuck out just for me. I caught myself—barely—before I went sprawling, but that didn't keep half the bus from laughing.

  "You know, most guys gave that up back in fifth grade," I informed Bobby, grabbing my glasses before they slipped off my nose.

  "What can I say?" Bobby shrugged, not the least bit apologetic. "It's still funny."

  More laughter.

  Trying to ignore them all, I pushed my glasses back up, sat down in the empty seat and started rebuttoning my blouse as inconspicuously as possible.

  Nope, it didn't look like this year was going to be any different.

  Attention shifted away from me and back to other first-day-of-school gossip as the bus left Jewel's shabby historic district, where I lived with my aunt and uncle just a block from Diamond, our "Main Street." I stared out the window as we trundled through progressively newer areas with bigger yards and hardly any fences.

  No hills, of course. All of Jewel was flat—and boring. Like most other small towns in north-central Indiana, it consisted of a tiny little "downtown," a few widely scattered clusters of homes, a couple dozen farms, and cornfields. Lots of cornfields. Its only claim to character was an unusual number of artisan jewelry shops capitalizing on the town name, and the annual Jewel Jewelry Festival every May.

  Brianna Morrison and Debbi Andrews, my two closest friends, got on the bus a few stops later. "Oh good, you wore it," Bri said, sliding in beside me. Debbi sat right across the aisle. "I really like that top, M."

  I didn't see any point in telling her about my screwup. "Thanks, Bri. You look great, as always—you too, Deb."

  Brianna was a little more popular than me and a lot more outgoing. A bit on the geeky side, like me, but with more style. Though neither of us could claim to be pretty, Bri had thick, curly brunette hair, while mine was limp and mousy brown, with a tendency to frizz. We'd known each other pretty much all our lives and had been BFFs since kindergarten.

  When we were all in fifth grade, Debbi moved in next door to Bri and became a third star in our tiny constellation. While Bri was almost as stick-figured as I was, Deb was just the opposite—barely five feet tall with curves bordering on chubby, but with a blonde, baby-doll cuteness that tended to make guys kind of protective of her. Though none of us had ever had an actual boyfriend, Debbi sometimes got asked to dance at school mixers, which was more than Bri or I could claim.

  "Did you hear?" Bri looked at Deb, then me, then back at Deb, letting the suspense build. "We have a new quarterback! My dad told me at breakfast this morning."

  Bri was kind of a sports nut, since her dad was an assistant football coach. He also taught some computer and gym classes, since at a school as small as Jewel High, most of the teachers wore multiple hats.

  "Who is it?" Deb asked. "Ooh, is it Gary?" Bri had had a crush on Gary Chambers nearly as long as I'd had one on Jimmy Franklin.

  But she shook her head, making her dark curls bounce. "No, it's a new guy—a transfer from Center North. He just moved here, like last week."

  Now Brianna had the attention of everyone within earshot. New students were rare enough at our little rural high school, but a new boy coming in to quarterback our pathetic football team? That was big news!

  "Whoa, Center North? Seriously?" Joe Thomas hung over the back of his seat. "If he played for them, he's gotta be way better than any of our losers. Did he quarterback there?"

  "Backup quarterback," Bri said. "Rigel Stuart? Anyone hear of him?"

  "Like the star?" I blurted out without thinking. A few people gave me weird looks.

  Joe frowned at me. "There's a star named Rigel? What has he been in?"

  Feeling even more like a dork, I shook my head. "Not that kind of star. Rigel is the seventh brightest . . . oh, never mind," I mumbled.

  Astronomy had been a hobby of mine for years and everyone knew it. Back in middle school, when we'd taken a class trip to the planetarium, I'd played nerdy know-it-all, raising my hand and showing off. I cringed, remembering that, and wished I hadn't reminded everybody all over again.

  Luckily, nobody seemed as interested in making fun of me as they were in hearing about the new quarterback. That topic obsessed everyone as the bus drove through endless cornfields along the state road. I didn't pay much attention, since I wasn't into football. Unless Jimmy Franklin made the team this year. I considered asking Bri, but decided that would be too obvious.

  Instead, I retreated into a pleasant fantasy where Jimmy, seeing me for the first time since spring, suddenly realized how much I meant to him. He'd stare, then smile, then hurry toward me, arms outstretched, to sweep me into a hug and tell me how much he'd missed me over the summer. I'd shyly admit I'd missed him, too, then we'd walk down the hall holding hands, making me the envy of every girl in school. If only.

  The bus pulled up in front of one-story Jewel Senior High, three miles out of town. Jewel Junior High, a smaller but similar yellow brick building, was right across the street. Nothing else was nearby but more cornfields. Bri, Deb and I followed the others into the school and across the skylighted atrium to the hand-lettered signs taped to the opposite wall telling us which homeroom to report to.

  "See you at lunch," Bri said as she and Deb headed off to the left. I turned right, to the S through Z room.

  I didn't hurry. The bell wouldn't ring for almost ten minutes, and I was hoping for a g
limpse of Jimmy in the still-crowded hallway. Besides, if they seated us alphabetically again—Squires, Truitt—I'd be right behind Trina, who probably already had some new humiliation planned for me.

  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.

  He sat down and it was like I couldn't stop staring at the back of his head—which was more than a little disturbing.

  Pete Warner leaned across from the next row. "Hey, Rigel, right?" He pronounced it like "regal," with a hard G.

  "Rigel," the new guy corrected him, pronouncing it Ry-jel. Like the star.

  Pete nodded, unfazed. "I hear you're gonna be our new quarterback?"

  "Coach Glazier seems to think so," Rigel said with a shrug, his voice jolting me again. "But he's only seen me at one practice so far."

  "Yeah, well, if you played at CN that's probably all he needed to see. Especially after last year's game."

  "Huh. I'll bet Bryce is pissed," Nate Villiers commented.

  Bryce Farmer was a senior now and had been our quarterback last year. He had also, not-so-coincidentally, dated Trina. I wondered what had happened there, since she was now coming on to Rigel. The new quarterback. So predictable.

  A few of the other boys joined the football discussion and I tried to tune them out, but every time Rigel spoke my whole body thrummed to his voice. What was wrong with me? I forced myself to read through my schedule, desperate to distract myself, but it was pretty much what I expected. With just twenty-two teachers at Jewel, there wasn't a lot of room for surprises.

  Finally, Mrs. Cummins called us to order. "First period will start in five minutes. Everyone look over your schedules. If there's a problem, ask me for a slip so you can stop by the office for adjustments."

  The noise level dropped as everyone else checked their classes. Trina immediately turned to face Rigel. "So, what classes do you have?" she asked, leaning toward him so he could get a peek at her cleavage.

  I rolled my eyes and felt a spurt of amusement when she noticed and had to work to hide her irritation.

  "They said my schedule was tentative," he replied. "What do you have? Maybe I can—"

  "Switch a couple? I definitely have some of the best teachers this semester."

  This time I couldn't suppress a snicker. Trina dropped her syrupy-sweet routine long enough to glare at me. Then, before Rigel could turn his head to see what she was glaring at, she switched her high-powered smile back on and leaned further over the back of her chair until she was practically lying across his desk.

  In a fake, breathy voice, Trina started naming her classes in order. I glanced back down at my own schedule and winced. I was going to share more than half my classes with her this year. Maybe I could get my schedule changed!

  But then I heard Rigel murmur something about switching an elective to coordinate with her schedule and decided maybe I could live with Trina in the same room if it also meant listening to Rigel's deliciously disturbing voice several times a day.

  He rose smoothly and went to the front to get a change slip from Mrs. Cummins, and suddenly, like someone had flipped a switch, I was able to think rationally again. I took the opportunity to remind myself that I should be more interested in Jimmy Franklin's schedule than Rigel's. Jimmy didn't know I existed either, but it still seemed disloyal to have temporarily forgotten about the boy I'd been crushing on for almost two years.

  Besides, if Trina planned to snag Rigel for herself, Jimmy was probably more within my reach. Kind of like how the moon was more within my reach than the sun. I stifled a sigh.

  Rigel came back and I immediately had trouble focusing again, even before he spoke. I was definitely way more aware of him than was reasonable, gorgeous or not. I tried—hard—not to look at him as he sat back down in front of me and Trina resumed her over-the-top flirting.

  A minute later the bell rang. Rigel and Trina left together, of course. I hung back, not wanting to get too close, but then, without really meaning to, I found myself quickening my pace. I caught up to them in time to see a slightly confused expression on Rigel's profile, which suddenly cleared. I wondered what stupid thing Trina had
been saying to him.

  I stayed two steps behind them until Rigel turned to go to the office to change his schedule. It was like I was caught in his orbit—a funny metaphor, I realized, since he was named after a star.

  And he still hadn't so much as glanced my way.

  In Geometry, determined to get Rigel out of my head, I made a point of sitting only two seats away from Jimmy. Who still didn't notice me. Probably just as well, since I caught myself pasting a stupid, soppy smile on my face every time he turned in my direction. Why was I such a spazz around guys?

  "Hey, M!" Deb's arrival was a welcome distraction until she continued, "Have you seen the new guy, Rigel?" I nodded. "What a hottie, huh?"

  "Yeah, he's pretty cute." I didn't mention the strange effect he had on me. "I think Trina's already staked him out."

  Deb made a sour face. "Figures. But unless he's an idiot, he'll realize soon enough that her beauty is only about one skin cell deep. Her bitchiness goes all the way to the bone."

  Rigel came in ten minutes late with his change slip and even across the room I felt that bizarre twanging of my nerves again. He went to sit next to Trina, who had saved him a seat.

  Because of homeroom, Geometry was ten minutes shorter than normal. That suited me fine, since I was wearing myself out trying not to sneak glances at Jimmy or Rigel. If I didn't somehow control my attention better, I'd be kissing my scholarship dreams goodbye.

  When the bell rang, I hung back with Deb, afraid I'd give myself away if I got too close to Rigel. "What's your next class?"

  "English," she said. "How about you?"

  "Computer Apps." It was one of the few classes Trina—and Rigel?—wouldn't be in. I told myself firmly this was a good thing.

  Deb and I compared schedules as we walked. Though I swear I wasn't trying to watch him, I caught a glimpse of Rigel up ahead, just as he turned a corner. The opposite direction I needed to go. Again, a good thing.

  "See you at lunch," Deb said when she turned to go the same way Rigel had. I tried very hard not to envy her.

  Mr. Morrison, Bri's dad, was my Computer Apps teacher and he smiled when he saw me—until I moved toward one of the gleaming new computers spaced along the tables that ran the width of the room.

  "Um, Marsha, would you mind terribly?" he asked apologetically, pointing toward one of three older machines near the back, the ones we'd used last year for Keyboarding.

  "Sure, Mr. Morrison, no problem," I said lightly, ignoring the snickers.

  I couldn't really blame him, since last year I'd killed four computers in one semester of Keyboarding. And it wasn't only computers. I hadn't been able to wear a digital watch for . . . well, ever. They always died within a week. I was practically the only kid in school without a cell phone, for the same reason. My aunt even cringed when I used the microwave, since our last two had gone on the fritz while I was nearby.

  I used to joke that the static thing was my superpower—but now I just avoided everyone's eyes as I sat down at my older computer, feeling like a freak.

  Bri was in my Honors English next period. So was Rigel. Bri made a beeline for him—not hard to guess why—but I intercepted her.

  "C'mon, let's sit by the window."

  "But—" Bri looked over her shoulder toward Rigel with intense interest.

  "We'll be further from the teacher there," I improvised. Without waiting for her reply, I headed to the opposite side of the room and she reluctantly followed me.

  As I sat down, I involuntarily glanced Rigel's way only to find him frowning in my direction. Frantically, I went back over what I'd just said but I was sure I hadn't used his name. Unless he could read my mind, I was safe.

  I risked another peek and was relieved to see he had turned away, and was now talking to Trina and Nicole Adams, another cheerleader. He was still frowning slightly, but it obviously had nothing to do with me.

  "So, what do you think of our hot new guy?" were Bri's predictable next words. "He was in Spanish last period but that humongous flirt, Trina, barely let him look at anyone else—just like now."

  It took a surprising amount of effort, but I managed not to look at him again. "Is that all you and Deb can talk about today?"

  Bri shrugged, then grinned. "Can you think of anything more interesting?"

  I absolutely couldn't, but I wasn't going to admit that. My silence was enough encouragement for Bri to continue.

  "I'm going to pry every detail about him out of my dad tonight," she said. "By tomorrow I should have all kinds of juicy stuff to share."

  I pretended I wasn't even more eager for those details than she was. "What if there isn't anything juicy? Besides, it's not like any of us have a shot, with Trina all over him."

  "Yeah, well, a girl can dream." Bri gave me a sly grin and waggled her eyebrows. "You used to be really good at that."

  "Shh!" I glanced around to make sure no one had heard her. I kept my flights of fancy to myself these days, but I did not want anyone reminded of the ridiculous stuff I'd made up back in elementary school.

  Other kids might have had imaginary friends, but I'd invented a whole imaginary life. I'd told everyone in second grade that I was really a Martian princess whose parents would one day fly me back to their beautiful palace in the stars. No doubt it was my way of dealing with the fact I was adopted and knew nothing about my birth parents. I'd told other outlandish stories, too, but that one had been my favorite—and I got teased mercilessly for it.

  I did wise up enough to stop talking about it by third grade, but the teasing went on for years. "Marsha the Martian" was a nickname I never wanted to hear again. In fact, it was the main reason I tried to make people call me M instead of Marsha. Bri and Deb cooperated, but nobody else did.

  "Okay," Bri said. "But you've obviously noticed him if you want me to shut up so bad."

  "Of course I've noticed him," I whispered. "He sat right in front of me in homeroom. But Trina sat in front of him—Squires, Stuart—so he never even saw me. So I don't see any point in torturing myself over him."

  Bri looked over at him again and I gave into temptation and risked a brief glance. He wasn't talking to Trina now. He seemed to be slowly scanning the room, like he was looking for something—or someone. I looked away before he could catch me staring.

  Bri wasn't so inhibited—she actually caught his eye and smiled. Since I refused to look I didn't know he'd smiled back until she turned to me with stars in her eyes. "Wow, he's even cuter when he smiles! I'm at least going to say hi to him after class. No harm in that, and it might piss off Trina."

  "Yeah, bonus," I agreed glumly, wishing I had Bri's courage.

  "Is this the worst reading list ever, or what?" Bri complained as we got up to leave forty-five minutes later.

  I scanned the titles and synopses, trying to pay attention to something other than Rigel leaving the room with Trina. "The most depressing, anyway. Lord of the Flies and The Bell Jar in the same six weeks? They'll be lucky if we don't all slit our wrists."

  "Seriously. Oh, there he goes! Come on."

  Even though I'd meant to hang back, somehow I found myself right behind Bri as she tried to catch up with Rigel. But Trina had him by the elbow, with Nicole flanking his other side, and by the time we reached the door, they were halfway down the hall.

  "Crap! Oh, well, we can introduce ourselves at lunch," Bri said, staring after him.

  "Yeah, we'll do that."

  She looked at me. "Come on, he won't bite. Worst that can happen is he'll laugh at us." That sounded pretty awful to me, but Bri never worried about looking stupid like I did. "I've got Health next," she said then, pulling out her schedule. "How about you?"

  "Earth and Space Science." Trina was also in that class, which probably meant Rigel would be, too. "See you at lunch?"

  "Yeah, whoever gets there first, save seats. Later!"

  I purposely got to class late enough that everyone, including Rigel, was seated—only to discover the only empty spot left was at the table in f
ront of him. Trying not to panic, I scanned the room hoping another seat might magically appear, but the class was full. Steeling myself against any kind of reaction, I moved to the empty chair as nonchalantly as I could.

  "Hey, Marsh," Will Chesterton said as I sat next to him. He was shorter than me, and nerdy, but not a bad guy. His main fault was thinking he was way cooler than he actually was.

  "Hi, Will. Have a good summer?" I tried hard not to be too obsessed by the fact that Rigel was only three feet from my right elbow. There was no way I actually felt a tingling in that elbow! That was just silly.

  "Yeah, we went to Indiana Dunes a couple times and spent a week in Saugatuck," Will said, and I had to focus to remember why he was telling me this. "How about you?"

  I could hear Rigel murmuring something to Trina, but I couldn't make out the words. "What? Oh, um, we were going to go to Florida for a week, but Uncle Louie couldn't get off work long enough so we just went to the lake for three days instead."

  Rigel's voice stopped so abruptly, I wondered if Trina had poked him or something.

  Will dragged my attention back from behind me by saying, "Hey, I'm glad you're gonna be sitting here. You can help me out when we get to the space stuff next semester."

  "Oh, yeah, sure, no problem," I agreed absently.

  Behind me, I heard Trina start to say something, then it sounded like Rigel shushed her. I glanced at the teacher, but he wasn't looking our way. Huh. I wondered what that was about—and how Trina liked being shushed. It was all I could do not to turn around to see her expression.

  I was still trying to think of some totally legit reason to look behind me when Mr. Ferguson started calling the roll. None of the other teachers had bothered. They knew everyone by name already, but this was only Mr. Ferguson's second year at Jewel. I started doodling in my notebook, since I'd be one of the last people called.

  As he made his way through the alphabet, sketches of constellations appeared under my pencil, inspired by Will's reminder and the star charts above the whiteboard.

  Mr. Ferguson was almost done with the roll. "Trina Squires?"

  "Here," she responded.

  I braced myself for Rigel's voice.

  "Rigel Stuart?"

  "Here."

  It was one word. One word and it still went through me like a rush of adrenaline. What in the world was wrong with me? Even Jimmy Franklin had never affected me like this.

  "Marsha Truitt? Are you here?" Mr. Ferguson sounded impatient and I realized I'd missed my own name.

  "Oh, um here!" I answered, feeling my cheeks burn.

  Then I looked down at my doodling and they burned even hotter. Not only had I drawn the constellation Orion, I'd been drawing circles around Orion's left foot—the star Rigel. I slammed my notebook shut, hoping no one had noticed.

  I peeked sideways at Will, but he was watching the teacher, who had finished roll and was writing on the whiteboard. Slightly reassured, I forced myself to do the same.

  It was an intense relief when the bell finally rang for lunch. No matter how I tried, I hadn't been able to ignore my awareness of Rigel behind me. If anything, it had increased as the class wore on. I was out of my seat before the bell stopped, eager to get away from his disturbing influence. But as I reached the door, I felt my feet slowing, like I wanted him to catch up.

  Disgusted at my weakness, I sped up, practically jogging to the cafeteria. Not till I'd gone through the lunch line did I glance back and sure enough, there was Rigel. Trina was right behind him, wearing a smug smile, clearly hoping everyone was noticing who she was with.

  With a snort aimed as much at myself as at Trina, I went to an empty table near the windows and deliberately sat with my back to the room. I was opening my juice box when Bri slipped into the seat across from me. "Hey! You're into window seats today, aren't you?"

  I shrugged. "Sunshine is good for my mood."

  "Can I have your banana?" she asked as Deb joined us with her tray.

  "Sure. That's why I got one." I never ate bananas, as my friends well knew.

  "So, how was—" Bri began, when she was interrupted by a hiss from Deb, who was staring over my shoulder.

  I nearly turned, but stopped myself. "What?"

  "Don't look now," Deb whispered, "but Rigel Stuart is headed Right. Toward. Us." Beside her, Bri nodded, wide-eyed.

  "Stop staring!" I held perfectly still, trying to be inconspicuous.

  But then it didn't matter because he was standing right next to me, his nearness zinging through me again like an electrical current. I swallowed once, convulsively, and looked up past his lean, muscled chest to find him regarding me with those amazing greenish eyes in that impossibly perfect face.

  "Marsha, isn't it?" he said.

  Unable to form words, I nodded.

  "Hi. I'm Rigel Stuart."