Page 54 of Stardusted

The thought, while eerie enough to make my belly jump, didn’t send me into another tailspin of panic. So that was something. Maybe binging every single alien encounter forum thread I could find had actually worked to desensitize me.

All jokes aside, my head-first dive into conspiracy-land had done something. It’d helped. Just knowing I wasn’t alone made a difference, and the curiosity I’d been keeping at bay was slinking back in. I needed to know more.

I wanted answers to the lingering questions: who, what, and why. And, as a bonus, how.

There had to be a logical explanation. Something that made sense. And I was going to find it.

I patted down my frizzing hair. If I wasn’t careful, this could easily become an obsession. Both Mom and Amelia said when I got hooked on something, I went all in. I needed to understand and conquer it before I could let it go. That was why anthropology had always made sense. It was, in a way, a career about decoding the biggest questions surrounding human existence.

This was no different. Except this time, I’d be digging for answers about lifebeyondthe human existence.

The floor was cool under my bare feet as I crossed into the kitchen. A breeze from the HVAC vent stirred against my nape, and goosebumps swept down my arms. It smelled like night wind.

It reminded me of Sky, strangely enough.

I snorted. At least all this insanity had cut back on my daily quota of bartender daydreams. I curled my fingers over my marked palm and skirted the counter-height bar that passed as a kitchen table, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. After twisting off the cap, I took a long drink and leaned against the stove.

What would he think about all of this? He’d been tense and oddly curious at the scene of the accident and later at Oasis. Like he’d known I wasn’t telling the full story.

Like he hadn’t believed I’d seen nothing.

Maybe he’d seen the lights, too. Plenty of people had. Maybe he’d been following one and that was how he’d ended up in the middle of nowhere the night I nearly became his hood ornament.

Maybe, like me, he’d been too afraid I’d think he was crazy.

I breathed a hoarse laugh. That couldn’t be it. Sky wouldn’t care what I thought. But maybe he didn’t want to end up the subject of some Oasis gossip group text.

RE: The Hot Bartender Who Believes in Little Green Men.

My smirk faded as I studied the ugly bruise on my arm. No, not little green men.

Vicious, nightmare-machine aliens.

Still, Sky’s opinion didn’t matter. I was done spiraling. I’d go out with Amelia. I’d even tackle midterms next week.

But I wasn’t done. I was going to get to the bottom of this.

These alien visitors and theirinfiltrationhad just become my new hobby.

Chapter 15

CONNECTING THE LITERAL DOTS

Rainpattered a staccato beat against the plate-glass windowsoverlooking the lake behind my brother’s cute little bungalow.

The storm had rolled in while I was on my way to Maryville, and now I watched lightning lash down over the frothing water past the dock. The battered pontoon boat Dustin had been “fixing up” for ages rocked and rolled on each swell, straining against its ropes like it was trying to escape. The trees, stripped of their brittle, brown leaves by the wind, thrashed like concert ravers jamming out to nature’s music.

The next flashing bolt jarred free a memory of blue strands of light crawling over the walls, the ceiling, stinging my flesh?—

“You know you’re not supposed to stand close to windows during storms, Rae,” my mom called from where she was chopping veggies in the cheerful blue-and-yellow kitchen.

I jumped, then blinked, gathering myself enough to shoot her a dry look over my shoulder. “That’s mostly a myth, Mom,” I said, but it still made me smile.

At barely five feet tall, Mama B, as Amelia called her, was a tiny force of nature wrapped in a riot of color. Her graying hairwas long and wild, and today’s floor-length dress, red, purple, and pink, should’ve clashed with the kitchen decor.

It didn’t, though. She owned every room she stepped into, a juxtaposition of maternal softness and fierceness I’d found myself striving for the older I got. Still a work in progress. Even now, I tended to fade. Which was fine. Sometimes it was easier to observe things from the background.

And I’d definitely been observing a lot of…thingslately.