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Chasing Stardust

Page 113

by Erica Lucke Dean

“Your phone.”

A spark of fury ignites in my belly. “You tracked my phone?”

The son of a bitch grins, clearly proud of himself.

I blow out a breath and clench my trembling hands. “Listen, Damian. Whatever this was has run its course. We’re not the same people we were in high school. I’m not the same person. Too much has happened since then. We don’t want the same things. We just don’t fit anymore.”

“I think we fit pretty great.” He waggles his eyebrows.

Narrowing my eyes to tiny slits, I glare at him. “You’re a dick, you know that? I should’ve dumped you when you no-showed Mom’s funeral.”

“I’m sorry I missed your mom’s funeral.” He shrugs. “But I told you I wasn’t letting you break up with me.”

“And what? I’m supposed to fall in line and do what you say? Like I don’t have my own opinions or control over my own life?”

He shrugs again. “That’s what I like best about you. You’d rather let someone else call the shots. You like when I take the lead.”

He tries to put an arm around me again, but I recoil from him.

“Come on, Zo, what’re you gonna do without me? Your mom is gone. Your fake-ass friends forgot all about you the minute they settled into their dorms and started pledging sororities. Everyone else left you behind, but I’m still here. I’m all you have left.”

My last nerve snaps with a loud crack, and I curl my fingers into my palm, squeezing until my nails cut into my flesh. Before I can stop myself, I throw my fist forward. It connects with his nose, making a horrific crunch.

Damian crumples to his knees, cupping his face in both hands. “Jesus Christ, Zoey. What the hell was that?”

“That was me breaking up with you. For good this time.” Relief—and a little pain—pulses through me as I turn my back on him and march toward the exit, cradling my bloody knuckles.

33

Lady Stardust

With Damian finally out of my life, I search for Dash’s trail, but it’s gone ice cold. After searching the pier from one end to the other and coming up empty, I give up. He’s gone. Just like my hopes. Too tired to imagine what G-Lo would do, I wander to an empty bench. The second I sit, the dam breaks and tears of frustration spill down my cheeks. I drop my head into my hands and let them fall.

Suck it up, Zoey. This trip was never about a guy.

“I know, but . . .” I really like this one.

Bone-weary exhaustion finally catches up to me, and I slump against the back of the bench to stare out at the ocean. If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t just like Dash, I more than like him. It’s way too soon to say the L word, but it wouldn’t take much for me to get there. And for at least a little while, I thought maybe he felt something for me, too.

He saw me at my worst and didn’t run away.

A bitter laugh catches in my throat, turning into a sob on the way out.

“He didn’t run away until he saw me with Damian.” I choke out the words, certain I’ll never see him again. And it’s all my fault for pushing him away to begin with. For not letting him explain when he begged me for a chance.

The old bench creaks as someone sits at the opposite end.

Straightening my spine, I focus my gaze on the ocean, using my shoulder to dry my tears. The last thing I want is a total stranger asking a slew of invasive personal questions I’m not prepared to answer.

The person beside me clears their throat. “Did you know Bowie recorded a live album in Santa Monica?”

My breath catches, and I jerk my head toward the sound, gaping at the familiar profile.

At least a hundred relevant questions float through my brain, but I can’t get a single one to come to the surface. “I had no idea.”

Picking at a funnel cake without eating it, Dash nods but doesn’t look at me. “Live in Santa Monica ’72. But plot twist . . .” He leans in and lowers his voice. “Bowie didn’t actually record it. It was a bootleg recording that wasn’t released until more than twenty years later. And then rereleased in 2008.” He shrugs and leans back against the bench again. “True story. A fun bit of local trivia I picked up.”

Shock . . . confusion . . . elation . . . the conflicting emotions swirl inside my head like goldfish. I have no idea how he found me. The only thing I’m sure of is that he didn’t use his stupid phone to track me. “I thought I’d never see you again.”