Free Starstruck by Brenda Hiatt Page A

the concession stand, I couldn’t help noticing that Rigel was the main topic of almost every conversation. It made me feel proud of him, but it also underscored just how far out of my league he was.
    By the time we made it back to our seats, the team was already warming up on the field. I’d missed a whole two minutes of Rigel-watching! After another couple of minutes, the teams headed back to their respective benches for last-second instructions before kickoff.
    Trina, down on the track with the other cheerleaders, made a point of running over to say something to Rigel. I saw him smile and nod. Then, as he headed onto the field for the start of the half, Trina turned to give me a syrupy-sweet smile. No question she knew where I was sitting.
    The second half of the game seemed to go faster than the first, though it didn’t go quite as well for our team.
    “Looks like the Eagles’ coach worked out a strategy over halftime,” Bri commented after our first couple of possessions—with no score. “They’re triple -teaming Rigel, which I’ve never even seen before, since it leaves so many other players open. Unfortunately, it seems to be working.”
    It did. With Rigel at least partly neutralized, more of the burden fell on our pathetic defense to keep the game even, and they weren’t up to the task. When the game finally ended, the score was Elm Grove 38, Jewel 28.
    “Still, 28 points against Elm Grove is great,” Bri insisted as the stands started to empty around us. “Last year, we only managed a field goal against them the whole game.”
    I barely heard her, because Rigel had taken off his helmet and was now looking right at me. I smiled, but didn’t quite have the nerve to wave. Instead, I held my breath. Would he really follow up on his half-promise and talk to me?
    Almost before I finished the thought, he put up a hand and actually beckoned me down to the field. I glanced behind me to make sure he didn’t mean somebody else, but when I looked back at Rigel, he motioned again—to me.
    Bri was still talking about the game, but Deb noticed.
    “We’ll talk to you later, M,” she said, with a significant look that told me she expected a full report. “Come on, Bri, we’d better go find my mom.”
    Immediately catching on, Bri agreed and they hurried off as I made my dazed way down to the track.
    A bunch of cheerleaders—including Trina, of course—were gathered around the players, along with a whole lot of other people, both students and parents. Nobody paid any attention as I wormed my way through the crowd toward Rigel. Though I lost sight of him in the press of people, I could tell exactly which direction to go and then, suddenly, he was right in front of me.
    He grinned down at me, his hair all tousled, his uniform dirty and sweaty . . . in other words, totally gorgeous.
    “Hey, M!” he said, causing several heads to turn my way, their owners wearing various expressions of surprise. Trina was the only one who actually looked outraged, but I only got a fleeting glimpse of her face before I was completely caught in Rigel’s gaze—again.
    “Hey,” I echoed. “Great game!” It was trite, but true.
    His grin widened. “Thanks. Too bad we still lost.”
    A few people around him protested, repeating what Bri had said about the improvement over last year’s game against Elm Grove, but Rigel didn’t seem to be paying attention to them. He kept his eyes on me for a long moment, stealing my breath, and then turned to a man and woman just behind him.
    “Mom, Dad,” he said, “this is M. Um, Marsha Truitt.”
    I gulped—not visibly, I hoped. I definitely hadn’t expected this.
    Nor did I expect what I saw when I looked past Rigel to his parents, a polite smile on my lips. They were both nearly as gorgeous as Rigel. His mom looked more like a movie star than an obstetrician, with auburn hair and perfect skin. His dad was as tall and dark as Rigel, and way, way too handsome for a computer