Page 22 of Stardusted

DENIAL, SHMENIAL

Inthe morning light, everything about my night before felt like a dream. A very bad, very embarrassing dream. The kind where you’re walking around naked or all your teeth fall out.

Except worse. It was the kind where I’d acted like a crazy person in front of Sky. Twice. And it wasn’t a dream.

If I hadn’t been missing my car and sporting a gash on my knee, I might’ve been able to convince myself…but no such luck, Chuck.

It’d happened. The floating orb. The car accident. Me, you know…laughing in Sky’s face when he offered me his phone number. I cringed.

At least the pale blue sky came with a surprisingly warm morning sun. Its rays beat down on my shoulders as I made short work of the mowing. I inhaled the sharp scent of cut grass and gasoline, held it, then exhaled, forcing away the mortifying memory. The heavy drone vibrated through my palms while I sheared another straight line through the front yard.

It helped that I’d managed to reason out the entire mysterious-light-in-the-road incident.

After failing to drown myself in the shower last night, I’d gone down a research rabbit hole on ball lightning, and now I felt moderately convinced my sanity was intact. There were actual documented cases of ball lightning occurring outside of storms, and a late-autumn stormhadpassed through One Willow yesterday afternoon, bringing the warm front I was enjoying now.

Ball lightning. A perfectly plausible explanation. Atmospheric phenomenon.

Science. Boom. Mic drop.

Any lingering details that didn’t quite fit could easily have been tricks of the imagination. Exhaustion. I’d pulled a double after a two-hour class. In the middle of cramming for midterms.

No UFOs here.Suck it, Kelly. This was just science and maybe a touch of sleep deprivation.

As for Faith, my brother already had her in the shop. He’d even borrowed the tow truck from his boss, Harry.

I’d handled it. All of it. I felt…better.

Mostly. A few things still smarted.

Grimacing, I pushed the temperamental mower back up the hill, the drone of its blades drowning out the pop song blasting from my earbuds. Too bad they couldn’t drown out the last piece of my sucky night.

I’d turned down his number.

I’d literally said,I don’t want your phone number.To Sky Acosta.

My insides curled like a dying spider.

I could’ve done without that particular memory in the clarity of morning. But no, there it was again. His face. The way he’d stared in utter confusion. The sheer bewilderment.

He probably didn’t get turned down often. Not with a face like that. Not with those arms.

And then I’d gone andboltedfrom his car likehewas the crazy one.

I resisted the urge to facepalm, veering into the next neatly spaced row. Would he talk to me at work tonight? Or would he go back to vague smiles and polite nods? Wednesday nights were usually slow, more chatting than serving, and hehadsaid he was working the late shift. I was closing, too. So that meant…

Yep. Interaction was inevitable. And so were the nerves that came with it.

Oh hey, Sky. It’s me, Raven. You know, the girl who ranted about aliens in the prep closet, threw herself in front of your SUV, and then ran away in terror when you offered your phone number? Yeah, that girl. Can we hit undo on all that?

I squeezed my eyes shut and shoved the mower faster. Was he the type to tell people what had happened? Would I show up to Oasis and hear Tony reenacting my panicked death scream in the kitchen?

The thought didn’t quite congeal. I didn’t think Sky was that guy.

Honestly, he’d probably just act like nothing had happened. Keep to himself behind the bar, pouring drinks with quiet professionalism. And I’d avoid eye contact like a boss.

That was the plan. Forced smiles. Feigned chill.

I could do that. I hadpractice.