Stardusted (It’s Definitely Not Aliens #1)

Chapter 1

THE NIGHT EVERYTHING WENT WAY WRONG

“Kelly, it’s definitely not aliens,” I said, rolling my eyes.

It was definitely aliens.

Not that I knew that yet.

At the time, the idea seemed ludicrous. Improbable. Arguably the most insane explanation for what was going on in One Willow. Let alone the world.

But you know what they say: ignorance is bliss.

And speaking of ignorance…

“You don’t know it’s not aliens,” Kelly said. “Like, not for sure, Rae-bae.”

Ugh. Not that stupid nickname again.

I fought the urge to swear and shoved open the swinging kitchen doors a little harder than necessary, bracing for the wave of sizzling beef smoke and heated grease.

The cacophony of classic rock, shouting, and clattering utensils swallowed the muttered curse that slipped out despite my best efforts.

My name was Rae. Not Rae-bae. Raven, technically. But only professors and the DMV called me that. And my mother when I was in trouble.

Everyone else just called me Rae.

Everyone except, of course, Kelly. She’d insisted on that cringe nickname since the day I’d landed the waitressing job at Oasis Bar and Grill six months ago.

And, like a fly to a glue strip, it stuck.

I’d given up fighting it. Just like I was ready to give up on this stupid debate.

I reached the ready line stacked with waiting orders, Kelly hot on my heels. After a glance at the digital screen, she handed me the plate of Hula fries for table three. I mumbled a thank-you, and she turned to face me, one hand on her curvy hip, her serving tray clutched at her side.

Like me, she wore the tropical-themed uniform: an aggressively green minidress printed with pineapples and surfboards and her waitressing apron.

Unlike me, she pulled it off.

Then again, Kelly could wear a paper bag and still look like she’d stepped off a modeling gig. She kept the top two buttons of the dress strategically undone to showcase cleavage. The best push-up bra at Victoria’s Secret wouldn’t help me emulate that. Trust me. I’d tried.

I gave her a flat look, and in response, she pursed her lips. They were painted a bright Barbie-pink today.

Our staredown lasted a full ten seconds, during which angry rock music raged.

Kelly broke first with a disgusted click of her tongue, like my refusal to give in was a personal affront.

“Okay, fine,” she said, flipping a long lock of golden blond hair over her shoulder.

“So everyone says it’s some kind of solar storm.

That’s what the news is reporting, sure.

But how do we actually know that’s what’s happening?

How do we know for real? How do we know it’s not just what the media wants us to believe? Haven’t you seen the reels?”

God. Not the reels. Next, it’d be Reddit threads and blurry YouTube videos of alleged alien sightings.

“Because,” I cut in before she could start citing message-board experts, “it doesn’t make sense, Kelly. Aliens aren’t invading.”

I was still holding the Hula fries. Sighing, I angled my tray and slid them on top. The rest of my order still wasn’t ready yet. The kitchen was backed up.

Could this night get any worse?

I dug deep for patience and came up short. Like she sensed it, Kelly’s pale blue eyes narrowed. She was waiting for me to crack.

I was closer than I wanted to admit.

Ignoring her, I shifted my attention to the digital screen. Still no coconut shrimp or Hawaiian burger. I could practically feel my tips shrinking with every passing second.

Kelly hadn’t moved. Her stare hadn’t wavered. Pretending she wasn’t there didn’t work, either. I dragged my gaze away from the frazzled cooks and turned to my blonde nemesis.

“Fine,” I said, massaging my aching temple. “If you really want to talk about this, here’s how I know it’s not some giant conspiracy: Because science, Kelly. Science knows what a solar flare is. You’ve seen the footage. The actual satellite images of the sun, you know, flaring?”

She waved off my very reasonable explanation with a flick of her pink-tipped fingers. “That’s what they want you to think. That could all be computer-generated. A cover-up. AI can do crazy things.”

I was going to lose it. Right here in the kitchen.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and forced back a string of colorful curses that would’ve made the line cooks proud. “Who’s they, Kelly? You think every single news source and government agency is colluding in one giant lie?” When she opened her mouth, I held up a hand. “Don’t answer that.”

She gave a dramatic shrug.

“Let me get this straight,” I said, fixing her with an incredulous look. “The entire world is under alien attack, and their master plan is…disrupting our cell signals? Making us resend a few texts?” I snorted. “Yeah, you’re right. You can’t check your views on socials. It’s the apocalypse.”

“That’s the media talking,” Kelly replied primly. “You have to do your own research these days, Rae-bae.”

Lord help me. She was serious.

Before I could respond, Tony, one of the kitchen staff, piped up from her other side.

“Don’t forget the power outages.” He’d finished slicing an onion and was now leaning on the prep table, wiping his watering eyes on his shoulder.

And also apparently injecting himself into this conversation.

“There were grid issues over in Logansport and a whole thing in New York. And that’s just in the States.

I read on Spiral that it’s been happening in other countries, too. ”

“What countries?” I demanded, glaring.

But, damn it, I had heard about that. The outages. Brief mentions on the news. I’d brushed them off because power outages happened all the time. Because electromagnetic interference could disrupt the grid…

Oh, no. They were sucking me in. Like a sensationalized whirlpool.

Well, I wasn’t jumping into that water. I was too smart for this.

“That’s just a coincidence, Tony,” I said, shaking my head. A dull ache pulsed at my temple. Work stress. School stress. This whole, stupid debate. “Logansport’s an hour from here, and New York is literally across the country. They’re not related.”

“The military base is here, though, Rae-bae.” He sniffed, eyes still glistening with onion tears. “Maybe aliens are poking around for a long-lost spaceship the government’s hiding.”

“Do not call me that.” I sharpened my glare. “And nobody’s hiding a UFO at the base! It’s mostly shut down now anyway. My dad worked there.”

The pang was quick, stabbing. I shoved it aside. I was too deep in this ridiculous argument to pause for grief.

Was I the only sane one left in this restaurant?

“Yeah, and Roswell was a weather balloon,” Tony said, pointing the knife at me. “Don’t be such a sheep.”

My mouth dropped open. He did not just call me a sheep.

Before I could unleash a scathing retort about herd mentality, Jackie appeared on the other side of the ready line, their hands full of Kelly’s order.

The tall, stocky lead cook slid the plates onto the warming shelf and sent me a solemn look.

“They only tell us what they want us to know, Rae-bae. Remember that.”

No. Not Jackie, too. They were always on my side!

I stared, frozen mid-sentence. I was outnumbered. No way I was winning this one.

While Tony and Kelly exchanged triumphant grins, I closed my eyes. Maybe if I didn’t look directly at them, they’d forget about this stupid argument. A girl could wish.

Sighing, I rubbed my forehead.

My headache had been lingering since my bio-anthro lecture this morning, and the Tuesday night dinner rush wasn’t helping—nor was this absurd conspiracy-club conversation I’d stumbled into.

If I hadn’t needed the cash to pay Bob rent, I’d have begged one of the other waitresses to take the rest of this closing shift.

But I didn’t have that luxury. Not with midterms coming and the study days I’d already planned to take off.

One more year. One more year before I earned that bachelor’s in basic anthropology. Then came the real fun: applications, scholarships, and hopefully a master’s in archaeology. And then—

“Order up! Hawaiian burger and a coconut shrimp!”

Jackie’s voice jolted me out of my daydreams about the future, and I startled, nearly dropping the Hula fries.

Nobody said anything else, but I swept a warning scowl around the room anyway and gathered up my order, hoisting the tray to my shoulder.

Without a word, I turned my back on the peanut gallery.

Kelly snickered. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out like the dignified adult I was, lifting my chin and pushing through the kitchen doors instead.

Aliens. Please. How ridiculous.

There would always be people who obsessed over conspiracy theories.

The solar storm had shown up on my feed earlier that week, and everything they’d described—the flickering power, the signal issues—lined up perfectly with what NASA had explained. I’d even watched the educational video. Twice.

Recalling it chased away the last of that creeping doubt. It was embarrassing I’d had any at all. Kelly could be persuasive when she wanted to be. One of her dubious superpowers.

Some people just weren’t content with the simplest explanation. Me? I liked things that could be weighed and measured, tested and proven. I liked science.

Kelly could go chase ET into traffic for all I cared.

I dismissed the whole ridiculous conversation and left the employee area, glancing toward the bar before catching myself.

Because he was working tonight.

The sweeping counter stretched to my left and curved around the corner, packed with stools and patrons leaning in toward the flickering fake tiki lights and bottles stacked along the mirrored wall. Tonight’s bartender moved with smooth, practiced ease behind the glassy black surface.

Tall. Dark. Handsome—

I wrenched my attention away, but the urge to sneak a second glance almost overpowered me. My face went hot.

Speaking of embarrassing. I couldn’t even look his way without blushing. I needed to pull it together.