Page 112 of Stardusted

“Go ahead,” I offered.

“Well,” he said, exhaling. He sat forward, and one of those endearing curls fell over his forehead as he steepled his hands. “I think we should talk about what happened.”

I had a feeling I knew what he was talking about: that kiss. And this wasn’t awkward at all. Telltale heat stung my cheeks.

“Which part?” I asked anyway, resisting the urge to fiddle with my braid. I had no idea what to do with my hands.

He contemplated me for a second, as if picking up my anxiety. It was probably written all over my face. Sitting back, he transferred his attention to the entirety of the Chinese restaurant menu spread out before us. “First things first. Which one do you want?”

I shrugged because I wasn’t sure I could eat at all. Not with my insides twisting and turning like they were. He began popping lids anyway.

“Orange chicken. Chow mein. Beef and broccoli. Shrimp fried rice.” He frowned at another container, lifted it, and sniffed its contents. “No idea what this one is.”

“Egg foo yung,” I whispered, tucking a frizzed strand behind my ear. I made a valiant effort to avoid noticing every casual twitch of his body. And failed. “I’ll take the fried rice. I don’t like noodles…so, you can have those. If you like noodles.”

“You don’t like noodles,” he echoed, as if making a note, passing me the rice box. “I like them just fine.”

Casual food talk. I could do this. That is, until our fingers brushed, and the blush roared back. Full steam ahead.

Kissing him had not helped this ever-present awareness. Not even a little. It’d made everythingmuchworse.

I threw myself into opening my chopsticks, and when I took a breath, I caught a whiff of the rice. Maybe Iwashungry. Despite the absolute insanity of my day, my stomach grumbled. I didn’t remember the last time I’d consumed anything that wasn’t caffeine-based.

Even with the gnawing in my midsection, though, I couldn’t bring myself to take a bite. I stared at the food in my lap while silence closed in again.

Until Sky broke it. “Rae.”

That was a serious tone. Heart skipping, I looked up. His expression matched. Here it came.

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding my gaze. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

My stomach dropped with the weight of those words—and the humiliation that rose with them. Of course he regretted it.

Clinging to my pride, I forced myself to keep looking at him and willed those emotions to stay tucked inside.“It was just a kiss, Sky. It’s…it’s okay.”

He shook his head, mouth downturned. The dark curl flopped over his brow. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s not,” I repeated, voice thin. My throat was tight, and I didn’t know what stung worse: the rejection or the regret in his eyes.

He raked the curl back. “I…I can’t.”

Wait. I blinked, stunned.He couldn’t?Oh.Oh.

I’d just assumed—especially after what he’d said earlier, about being with humans. Had I gotten it wrong? Had I totally misread the situation? I’d practically launched myself at him in the stairwell.

I was an idiot.

“I’m-I’m so sorry,” I stammered. I couldn’t even look at him. This made things ten times more awkward. “I thought things worked the same. Well, you’d said you’d…you know…with humans?—”

“No, that’s—” He loosed a sharp breath and transferred the container he held to one hand so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. A strangled huff that might have been a laugh escaped him. “No, Raven.” He lowered his arm. His mouth twitched like he was fighting for composure. “Things definitely work the same. Almost exactly the same for Pladians and humans. And even if they didn’t…” He gestured at himself. “Like I told you, the synth-skin makes me human. Ineveryway.” He bit his lip and glanced up at me. “In case you didn’t notice.”

Oh, I’d noticed. A whimper tried to escape, and I swallowed it down, tearing my attention from him before I succumbed to the pull of the Gray Sweatpants.

I’d noticedallof it seemed human enough to work just fine.

Then the rest of what he’d said sank in. Had he just saidthingsworked the same way for humans and Pladians?

Oh my God.My pulse lurched. I suddenly needed to know more. That shouldn’t turn me on, but it kind of did. It had to just be the thrill of the unknown.