Find Me Alastar

Star

Nothing comes up. I got nothing. My stalking skills are totally shit.

Who are you?

I hate that I can’t find him. I must be typing in the wrong name, I wish I could remember how it was

spelt.

A group of men are walking down the road toward the cab rank and as they draw closer, I see a

familiar tall figure among them. That’s when I see that the second man on the right is him. My heart starts

to beat in excitement. Oh, I need to get a grip. This is beyond pale. He’s a pig, remember, you fool? His

eyes meet mine, never breaking contact as he stares at me while the group walks past us. My eyes follow

him as he crosses the street to walk off in the other direction. Deflation fills me. It figures. Of course he

doesn’t even want to talk to me.

Star stops mid-step for a moment, his back to me, pausing as if thinking, and I find myself holding my

breath. What is he doing?

Then, suddenly, he turns and walks back to the cab rank, coming right up to me, and I stop breathing

completely.

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me, all suction all domination, and I feel as though my feet

are about to lift off the ground.

The other people all lined up in the cab line start to cheer at his bold move.

The earth stops and he kisses me again, gently sliding his tongue between my lips.

He pulls back and looks at me, then turns and walks away without saying a single word.

I stand frozen on the spot as I watch him turn the corner, disappearing into the darkness.

“What the hell was that?” Brielle whispers.

I shake my head. I have no words; nothing that makes sense anyway.

“He can’t just kiss you when he feels like it and then walk away. What an arrogant twat,” she

whispers, outraged.

I smile at the darkness that he disappeared into.

“Apparently, he can,” I smirk.

“What are you smiling at?” Brielle frowns.

I raise my fingertips and run them over my buzzing lips. Did that really just happen?

“The man can kiss,” I whisper through my smile. “The man can definitely kiss.”

I stand behind her watching as she brushes her hair in the mirror. She places the hairbrush down onto

the dresser and carefully braids her hair in preparation for bed. She’s happy, so happy. The smile is

beaming from her face and it’s as if I can feel it. A huge smile crosses my face. Oh, it’s a good day for

her.

Why? Why is she so happy?

Do I know why?

I frown as I try to remember. Yes, I do. He spoke to her today. His longing glances turned into a

conversation. Just a few words from him mean so much. She smiles at herself in the mirror and I find

my own smile reflecting hers. She finishes her hair, turns down her bed and blows out her lantern. The

room falls dark and yet I still feel her smiling into the darkness, her happiness filling the room.

Emerson

I wake with a jump as the gentle sun beams on my face through the fine curtains in my bedroom, and I sit

up in a rush.

What was that? Shit.This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

A dream-a weird, realistic dream about a young girl with long dark hair and beautiful pale skin. It

must have been a long time ago based on the nightdress she wore. What a weird thing for me to dream of?

I sit for a moment to try and clear the memory of the beautiful girl, running my fingertips over my lips. I

smile softly to myself. I have been floating on air since Mr. Twinkle kissed me last night. In fact, I don’t

remember ever being this excited over a random one-off kiss from a stranger. It’s only early, but for some

reason I am buzzing and I don’t feel hung over or tired at all. I can hear Hank and Vanessa talking in the

lounge room before I make my way out to them.

“Good morning.” I smile as I scratch my hair. I’m wearing flannelette pajamas and it is so refreshing

that I am not self-conscious this early in our new friendship.

“Hey,” Vanessa calls from the laundry room.

“How was your night?” Hank asks from his place on the floor as he watches cartoons. He is wearing

his standard Tiger stripe satin boxer shorts and a daggy t-shirt. I smile as I look down at him with his head

propped up on a pillow watching television. Hank has sandy blonde hair that isn’t really in a style, just

overgrown. He has facial hair that isn’t really a beard, either, just overgrown whiskers, and he is really

thin and tall. He’s so dorky that he has actually crossed over to super trendy.

“I had the best night ever.” I smile as I flop onto the lounge.

He looks back over his shoulder and smiles. “Did you meet someone you like better than yourself

then?”