by Kate Stacy
KATE STACY
THE STARS ALIGN SERIES
BOOK THREE
Edited by TRACY ATENCIO
Cover Design by ONE WISH DESIGNS
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. (This also includes the cover image and/or cover model(s) appearing on the cover. The context of this book does not in any way depict the personal life of said cover model(s). Image is licensed and used purely for fictional purposes only.)
Copyright © 2020 by Kate Stacy
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part of any form.
PLAYLIST
The following playlist served as creative inspiration throughout the writing and revision of Scintillation.
Stars – Sixx:A.M.
Hear Me Now – Bad Wolves ft. DIAMANTE
Shatter Me – Lindsey Stirling ft. Lzzy Hale
Levitate – Hollywood Undead
Bad Things – Machine Gun Kelly ft. Camila Cabello
Bad Guy – Set It Off
I’d Rather See Your Star Explode – Slaves
Heavier – Slaves
Talking Body – Tove Lo
Closer to You – Adelita’s Way
Underdressed – VÉRITÉ
Wicked Game – Theory of a Deadman
Only When You’re Close – Zendaya
you should see me in a crown – Billie Eilish
Big Plans – Why Don’t We
Miracle – CHVRCHES
Only One in Color – Trapt
Forever – Red
Titanium – David Guetta ft. Sia
Hold On – Chord Overstreet
Listen to these songs and more on the Scintillation playlist on Spotify.
To my teenage self…
Keep your head up. Things get brighter.
And for Christopher…
Thank you.
For your friendship. Your love. Your unwavering support.
And mostly…
Thank you for saving me, even on the days you didn’t realize you had.
“Twinkling stars brighten
up the dark night.
The stars and sky
meaningless apart,
perfect together
that’s how we met.”
-Zaral (Akriti)-
@zaral_speaks
PRESLEY
I’m the dark to my sisters’ light.
As a triplet, I often feel invisible, overshadowed.
There's a constant war inside my head.
A little voice telling me that there’s nothing special about me.
I yearn to be seen.
Despite my anxiety and insecurities, I step out of the shadows.
But I have a secret, and scars I never wanted anyone to see.
With no other choice,
I seek help from the one man I want but try to avoid.
He's the only one who can hide my scars.
But he hates me, and I don’t know why.
ADAM
After learning the truth about my paternity,
I’m left feeling like I'm missing a piece of myself.
Finding my family should be my first priority,
but I’m too distracted by the one woman I shouldn’t want.
A spoiled princess who thinks she's better than everyone.
She thinks no one sees her, but I do.
She’s the only thing I can see, and I hate it.
I don’t understand my attraction to her.
She’s gorgeous, but beauty is only skin deep.
The day she walks into my tattoo shop, I discover the truth.
Uncovering secrets changes everything I thought I knew.
Maybe there’s some truth to the old cliché.
There’s a thin line between love and hate.
Somewhere along the way, the line between us blurred.
NOTE: This book contains sensitive topics that may be upsetting to some readers.
scintillation
noun
the twinkling of the stars caused by density changes in the atmosphere
ONE
Presley
“I can’t believe I let her talk me into this shit.”
What the hell was I thinking?
Bending down to adjust the lacy, white thigh-highs, I curse under my breath and continue muttering to myself.
I’m never doing another favor for my sister. I don’t care how many times she begs with her stupid little pout and the big, sad puppy eyes thing she does. The answer will be no. I’ll remember this moment, forget my aversion to cardio, and run as far as I possibly can in the opposite direction.
No. Nope. Hell to the no.
Never again. Absolutely not. Not after this.
White. So much fucking white it should be illegal. Not a single stitch of color to be found on any of the fabric covering my body. As if there’s much fabric to begin with. Ugh. Did she choose this to torture me? I thought she loved me.
I feel like a good girl trying to be bad. It screams virginal, innocent. Like a shy, blushing bride on her wedding night.
I’m none of those things.
That chapter in my story was written years ago. Or perhaps I should call it a scene. A deleted scene at that. Removed completely because it was underwhelming, highly forgettable and unnecessary to the story.
Cupping my breasts, I give the girls a little lift and jiggle, making sure they’re where they need to be. If I’m lucky, they’ll stay put the entire time I’m in front of the camera. The last thing I need during this whole thing is a nip slip. Too bad the coverage of this bra—or lack thereof—leaves no guarantee.
“What’s taking so long, Presley? Hurry the hell up!”
Her impatience paired with the obnoxious pounding on the door makes me want to wrap my fingers around her throat and squeeze. I’ll release her as soon as she remembers that I’m doing this only because she asked it of me, not at all because it’s something I want to do.
I could easily list a hundred ways I’d rather spend my time today. A hundred more that would be less painful and traumatizing. A root canal. Stubbing my little toe. Getting my clit pierced. Just off the top of my head.
I’m about to pose in lingerie, in front of a woman I barely know while she poses me like a doll and takes pictures of me. Pictures I don’t even want.
All because Camille wants to give Ryan a very private and personal anniversary gift. She’s grown enough to strip down and bare herself in front of a camera for the man she loves, but apparently not grown enough to do it without me holding her hand. Not literally, of course. But that’s beside the point. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her, so I’ll go out there when I’m good and ready. Not a minute before.
Camille will just have to wait.
It took weeks for her to talk me into this.
A few minutes is all I need to talk myself out of it.
Cursing under my breath again, I sigh deeply and reach for the doorknob.
A tremble works its way through my body as I slip through the door. It’s a struggle to keep moving forward when all I want to do is slam the door shut, put my clothes back on, and hightail it out of here to the nearest bar.
“Damn, Presley!” Camille’s eyes trace the length of my body, making me feel more naked than I actually am, which I didn’t think was possible. “It should be like looking in a mirror,
but...wow! You look so much better in lingerie than I do. Why the hell do you hide that bangin’ body?”
Ducking my head, I let my hair fall over my face to hide the blush I feel creeping up my neck. It’s a question I refuse to answer, so I don’t.
I’ve never been good with compliments or comments about my body.
Everyone says I’m beautiful, but I have a difficult time accepting it.
In theory, I should believe it.
I have no reason not to, and it’s not that I don’t. Especially when I can look at my sisters and see that they’re both gorgeous. I don’t look so different from them. We’re identical in almost every way. Our faces are the same. Our eye color a perfect match. We’re even the same height. Our bodies are where the differences lie. We all have curves, but mine are a little...more. My tits are bigger, thighs thicker, ass rounder.
I’m told it’s a good thing.
They say men love thick girls with curves in all the right places.
Maybe it’s true.
But I wouldn’t know.
Experience has taught me that the only thing men want from a thick girl is a good fuck.
At least...that’s all they’ve wanted from me.
They’re interested until they get off and then they’re gone.
Maybe my looks aren’t the problem at all. I’ve never thought to ask, and I doubt they’d have been honest even if I had. There must be something wrong with me. Something lacking. Something that prevents a man from staying, from wanting to keep me.
What is it my sisters have that I don’t?
“Presley Estelle Sterling! Don’t hide.” Camille’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I flinch. “I know you’re not used to showing this much skin, or any skin really, but you look incredible! Have you seen yourself? You’re fuckin’ fire!”
“Can we just go get this over with?” I ask, running my fingers through my hair and deliberately dodging her question.
“Seriously? I don’t understand you at all,” she huffs, grabbing my arm, pulling me toward the full-length mirror. Her attention moves to where she’s holding me, and I suck in a breath. Camille fingers the lace covering my forearms and laughs. “I can’t believe you actually found fingerless gloves to match the lingerie perfectly. Only you could make that look work, I swear. You’re never without those things.”
When she looks away, I release the breath I’ve been holding. She continues rambling as she drags me across the room, but I can’t focus on what she’s saying. She may be oblivious to the anxiety-ridden tension in my body, but it’s all I’m aware of at the moment. By the time she positions me in front of the mirror and releases my arm, I’m counting in my head, reminding myself to breathe.
There’s no need to worry.
She didn’t see anything.
She felt nothing.
“Look, Presley.”
Unable to ignore the blatant demand, I force my eyes to take in my reflection.
“Oh!” I gasp, covering my mouth with my fingertips.
My eyes flit to Camille’s reflection. She’s grinning like a madwoman.
“Told you so!” She singsongs. “Now I bet you’re glad...shit!” She pulls her phone from the pocket of the robe she’s wearing. “It’s Ryan. I’ll be right back.”
The second she’s out the door, I pull at the lace covering my arms to make sure it hasn’t slipped. Knowing my secret is still safe, my body finally relaxes, and I truly take in the sight before me.
Camille wasn’t wrong.
I look...well...fucking hot.
Apparently, the virginal bride thing is a good look for me. Who knew?
Certainly not me. Not that I ever really try to look sexy. I dress for comfort. Leggings, nerdy tees, and hoodies are more my style. Until now, I’ve never even owned sexy lingerie.
Maybe it’s time to change that, Presley.
The thought makes me laugh. Who am I kidding? Wearing barely-there undergarments isn’t going to make a damn bit of difference. It might make the package prettier, but it doesn’t change what’s inside. It doesn’t make up for what’s lacking. Whatever it is that leaves me undesirable, unnoticed, and unwanted.
Tilting my head, I study the reflection in front of me, wishing I could see inside myself to what’s underneath. Instead, I focus on what I can see. I take in the lines, dips, and curves of my body. The angles and features of my face. The contrast of white lace against my lightly tanned skin. Bright green eyes and long, rose gold hair. Full lips and straight white teeth.
Objectively, I’m an attractive woman, even by society’s standards.
The only faults in my physical appearance aren’t visible. They’re covered, carefully hidden from eyes that aren’t my own.
I may be beautiful. I may have a “bangin’” body.
But it’s not enough.
There’s absolutely nothing special about me.
You’re unremarkable and utterly ordinary.
There’s that little inner voice. The one that never fails to put me in my place.
Frustration builds the longer I stare at myself, the longer I stand silently, giving that voice time to speak up.
Camille doesn’t need me to do this.
I’m not even sure why she asked me in the first place. She has enough confidence for both of us. Let’s not even talk about the fact that I can be here for support without subjecting myself to posing for pictures that don’t have a chance in hell of being seen by anyone but me and the photographer.
Decision made.
Camille will have to get over it.
I move to grab my bag, ready to change back into my regular clothes, but I don’t get that far. The second it’s in my head, my text notification goes off. For a split second, I consider ignoring it and changing before Camille comes back into the room. Only a few people have my number. People I don’t want to ignore. Groaning, I dig it out of my purse. I swipe the screen, groan louder, and roll my eyes. Hard.
Vitamin D: I know what you’re thinking, my pretty. You’re not allowed to bail. Take that sexy ass of yours out there and strike a motherfuckin’ pose. Time to shine, baby!
Vitamin D: Oh! And come by when you’re done. Wine and carbs. I gotchu, boo!
Fucking Derrick.
Sometimes I swear he’s psychic.
I don’t know when he changed his contact name on my phone, but it makes me laugh. Camille comes in as I’m changing it back, so I hold up a finger and quickly type out a response.
Me: I love you.
Derrick: Of course you do. I’m the best! Muah!
Slipping my phone back into my bag, I smile to myself. Derrick is crazy as hell, but I’m lucky to have him in my life. I couldn’t ask for a better best friend.
“Are you ready now? Tara’s waiting for us and you’re up first.”
I roll my eyes, grab her hand, and pull her through the door.
I bite back the words I want to say and paste a smile on my face.
“You owe me.”
TWO
Adam
Silence greets me as I lock the door to the shop.
Leaning against it, I let my head fall back and blow out a heavy breath.
It’s been one hell of a day.
Not bad, just busy. Back-to-back appointments. More walk-ins than we could handle between the three of us. Ryker, Deacon, and I scrambled to schedule appointments for the overflow, which has us booked solid for the next few weeks. I’m gonna have to hire a couple more artists or else we’ll be running ourselves ragged trying to keep up.
When Jeremy signed the shop over to me, he warned me that business was slow. I expected to have to do some major advertising to get things flowing, but I was wrong. After a full remodel and name change, I opened the doors to Three Kings. Business has steadily picked up over the last six months and now we can’t keep up. Word of mouth around here is fuckin’ legit.
If Cannon would bring his ass up to North
Carolina I would only have to hire one extra artist. I miss the days of working with him every day. I thought he would make the move after shit went sideways. Guess I was wrong. Ryan and I are both worried about him, but he tells us he’s fine. I don’t believe it for a second. Neither me, nor Ryan have been able to take the time to make a trip to Florida. It’d be easier for me since I don’t have kids, but there’s no way in hell I can get away from the shop right now.
Looking around as I head to my office, a sense of accomplishment settles over me. I’m proud of what I’ve done here. Opening a second shop wasn’t something I thought I’d ever do, but the timing was right. When the opportunity presented itself, I couldn’t say no.
I don’t regret it.
It’s been a good distraction.
Getting the shop up and running has kept my mind away from the other reason I came to Blackwood. Not always—and never for long—but it has helped.
Unlocking my desk drawer, I pull out the stack of papers I keep there.
These documents have plagued my mind for too damn long.
I was only seventeen when my only parent died.
My mother hung herself from an exposed beam in our shitty apartment without giving a single fuck that she was leaving herself for me and my sister to find. The image of my mother’s cold, limp body is permanently burned into my mind. It’s not something that one forgets.
She left us with nothing.
Not even a slip of paper to tell us she was sorry.
She couldn’t bother to explain to her two teenage children why death was a better option than any kind of life with us.
If not for Ryan’s mom, Elena and I would have ended up in the system. Julia took us in, treated us like her own. No one was able to locate the piece of shit we call a father. Julia even hired a private investigator to track him down, with no luck.
