“Hey,” said Kelly. “Isn’t that Pygmalion?”

  She was right. It was Pygmalion of the Silver Helix. Close enough for me to reach out and touch. This was a moment I’d been waiting years for. I had so many questions for the man and so many things I wanted to say. And not a single one of them managed to get from my brain to my mouth. It was awful. I just stood on the stairs to the stage staring up at him with my mouth open, like some spiky-haired idiot.

  “Excuse me,” he said gruffly.

  I jumped back out of his way. “Sorry.”

  And then he was gone, striding off into the distance while I lambasted myself for making such a terrible first impression.

  “Next,” repeated the fortune teller.

  It occurred to me that at some point the people between me and the tent had moved aside. Probably to allow for Pygmalion’s exit, but also, Stella didn’t seem to be in the best of moods. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  I felt Kelly’s hands on my back. “Go on.”

  She gave me a push. Enough to make me take a step forward. As no one else was moving, it caught everyone’s attention. A few people cheered and I found myself taking the last few steps onto the stage where Stella sat. I don’t know what I expected her to look like exactly. Maybe one of the old women that does the horoscopes in the papers, with heavy makeup and a shawl. Or some other circus stereotype. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  She had film-star hair, with the kind of blond curls that I didn’t think people could pull off in real life. Despite that, she was casually dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. It wasn’t massively different to what I was wearing, except that her T-shirt probably cost twice what mine did, and on Stella, it just looked cool. There were bright tattoos on her arms, all symbols. It took me a moment before I realized they were signs of the zodiac. I don’t know much about star signs, but Kelly’s birthday is in May and I knew the horned circle on the fortune teller’s forearm was Taurus.

  Stella quirked an eyebrow at me and I realized that I’d been staring.

  “Sorry,” I said, feeling like a giant twat.

  “Are you here for a reading?”

  Was I? A big part of me wanted to go and bury my head in the sand somewhere before I embarrassed myself further. But I found myself nodding. It was too late to back out now.

  “What’s your name?” she asked as I approached.

  “Stuart.”

  “Nice to meet you, Stuart. I’m Stella.” She glanced at something on her phone. “Hmm. I don’t have your name down here.”

  “Oh.” I stopped as it dawned on me that I was being a massive twat. Pygmalion had mentioned raising money for his reading. Of course he had! This was a charity event but Stella wasn’t doing readings for free. Everyone who came up onstage would have paid for the privilege. I was trapped. I couldn’t afford to buy the slot myself and I couldn’t afford to back out, not with half the country watching.

  Stella looked at me long enough for me to wish I was dead several times, and then she turned to the cameras. “If you’d like to hear my reading for Stuart, donate now, using the Reachers app.”

  With Kelly and the crowd behind me, my eyes could easily see the progress bar on Stella’s phone as the tiny numbers began to climb, turning from red, to amber, to green before my eyes.

  We hit the minimum target in less than a minute.

  “Huh,” said Stella. “Looks like they do.”

  I mouthed a silent thank you to the cameras as I took my seat and gave them a thumbs-up. The chair was set quite far back from the table, enough that my knees weren’t under it.

  She glanced up at me. “You mind coming a little closer?”

  It’s strange. I only pulled that chair in a few feet but it changed the atmosphere instantly. The growing crowd and the cameras were still there, just less present. I became aware of entering Stella’s space. Of her proximity. The scent of her perfume tickling my nose. I worried that I might be staring again but if she was annoyed, she gave no sign. In fact, I couldn’t read anything from her at all, which was quite intimidating.

  “You ever done this before, Stuart?”

  “Uh, no. First time.”

  She nodded, unsurprised. “I’m going to need some things from you before we can start. When were you born?”

  “Fifteenth of April.”

  She started making notes. “What year?”

  “Two thousand.”

  “Okay.” Another note. “You know the exact time of your birth?”

  “Sorry, no.” She frowned, just a little, and I suddenly found myself wishing I did know. “I could call my mum and ask her if you like?”

  “No, that’s okay. Where were you born?”

  “Barnet Hospital.”

  “This is your hometown?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Interesting. Give me a minute and I’ll be right with you.”

  I sat back in my chair and watched her work. I don’t know if it’s because of my wild card or just the way I am, but I’m always aware of other people around me. Where they are, what they’re doing, how they’re feeling. And it struck me just then how totally absorbed she was in her task. As if the rest of us weren’t there. It was mesmerizing. She was so…contained. So at ease. She was filling out a chart that looked like a giant circle divided into wedges, like sections of a clock, with thick circles at certain points where the lines crossed. It would have been easy for me to read what she was writing, but that felt wrong somehow, so instead I watched her hand as it moved across the chart. The way she held her pen. The quick, decisive marks she made.

  It came to me that I was looking for clues about her. That I wanted to know more about Stella Sumner. Maybe more than I should. The thought brought a little heat to my cheeks.

  And that was the exact moment she looked up at me. “Ready?”

  I looked into her eyes and realized that, no, I was in no way prepared for her or any of this. I nodded anyway, put on my best smile. “Absolutely.”

  Stella

  I was so jet-lagged I could go from a featured celeb at this bonkers UK charity event to an extra in a Night of the Living Dead movie at any moment. My mother had insisted I take a red-eye “across the pond” from Nashville (through Chicago), which would’ve been great if I could manage to sleep on airplanes.

  Truth was, being in the sky disconcerted the hell out of me. I liked having it high overhead, knowing precisely which constellations and stars were above me even when I couldn’t see them.

  So when I landed at Heathrow and my chirpy, mid-twenties, go-getter new publicist Vickie-short-for-Victoria presented me with a packed itinerary for today, I wanted to weep. I’d envisioned ignoring my seasoned traveler mother’s advice and sleeping all day in a nice, comfortable hotel bed with the blackout curtains drawn. I’d throw a video up on my Oh, My Stars! YouTube channel, then explore the city by night, for my own reasons.

  But it wasn’t to be. Instead, here I was, using every ounce of energy I had left to focus enough to produce these star charts. At least it was for a good cause.

  Vickie had positioned herself right behind the handsome young ace man across from me—Stuart—and was nodding enthusiastically at me. Her tidy row of black bangs didn’t so much as lift in the effort.

  “Ready?” I asked him.

  Stuart had big puppy energy, exuding likability and decency. Things that my analysis supported. He’d stumbled onto the right gig. I wondered what his ability was.

  He said “Absolutely” and gave me what could only be described as a dazzling smile. I leaned in a bit despite myself. The unpleasant cravat-wearing older ace who’d kept trying to performatively flirt instead of focus on the reading had tried my patience. He’d kept prodding about whether love was in the cards for him, all but batting his eyes at me. When I’d honestly answered that I didn’t think it was, his reaction had been an over-the-top flounce. I had seen the panic in Vickie’s eyes, read the equivalent of a silent Oh, no, so this is why no one likes her as much as her mum in the States thought bubble. This was my UK charm offensive. Taking over Mom’s astrological empire so she could “retire” (yeah, right) wasn’t going smoothly at home. She had made me the new face of the business in the efforts of attracting a younger, revitalized fan base, but she was still very much operating behind the scenes. Which was why I was now here to build my brand. The very thought made me want to vomit.

  I smiled back at him.

  There we were, two strangers smiling at each other a little too long. The click of a phone photo being taken by someone watching us reminded me this was a performance.

  “Here we go,” I said, louder. “Your hometown hero, Stuart here, is an Aries, of course. And something tells me he’s too sensible to believe in all this astrology business.”

  The crowd laughed.

  “But also too polite to say so,” I added.

  Stuart’s expression turned adorably sheepish. He shrugged.

  “It’s okay,” I said conspiratorially. “I don’t know how much I believe it, either. Let’s see how I did.”

  “You don’t believe in it?” Stuart asked with what seemed to be sincere curiosity.

  My turn to shrug. “I believe the stars are a tool and our reactions to what these ancient systems show us can be extremely telling. They can help us be who we are meant to be.”

  My mother believed in it all completely. She said my opinions made me modern, and I used her same methods for creating both daily horoscopes and personalized readings like this. But to her true believers, my slight skepticism made me a…well, less-than-stellar substitute for her.

  I could see Stuart struggling for the right response, so I threw him a line. “But it doesn’t matter what we think, just whether the predictions are helpful. I believe you’ll agree there are stranger things in this world than our character being predicted by the stars?”

  The crowd loved Stuart’s nod.

  “But you really don’t believe in all this?” he asked, worried, like I was ruining my entire career. It was sweet and probably not wrong. He added, “What about the tattoos, then?”

  “These are in memory of the person who taught me all the constellations.” Fans knew the reason for my zodiac sleeves but never brought it up. And I never talked about Dad publicly. It felt too much like revealing a secret about myself—and yet I’d done just that.

  Stuart reached a hand across the table to touch my arm. “I’m sorry.”

  More camera clicks. Vigorous whispering. Someone would be videoing this whole thing. Right, back to business. “It’s fine; you couldn’t know. Now let’s talk about you.”

  Stuart gathered himself back into his seat, folding his hands in front of him. “Do your worst.”

  “You, sir, are a hero,” I said.

  “The uniform gave me away.” But he said it with a smile.

  “Yes, but also your stars. And not everyone who wears a uniform is a true hero.” I paused, consulting the lines of his chart. “You take the initiative. You’re a natural leader, although a bit shy. Which is unusual for an Aries, but probably a good thing. It makes you easy to be around and trust.” I looked up to find him listening with rapt attention. “You’re genuinely committed to making the world better. If you see a situation where you can help, you don’t hesitate to jump in. You feed off positive energy. What’s your power?” My own curiosity had finally gotten the best of me.

  A man from the crowd chimed in. “He’s a proper super—he saved our kids from the fire!”

  A smattering of applause broke out and I scanned the crowd until I found the man. He stood beside a young boy with traces of healed burn scars on his cheeks. He nodded enthusiastically along with his dad.

  Stuart raised a hand to wave away the applause, but it clearly pleased him. Until someone called out, “Hero McHeroface!” I caught the flicker of a frown at that.

  A girl close to the edge of the stage said, “What will his hero name be?”

  She had the same jawline and forehead shape as Stuart. “Your sister?” I asked.

  “Kelly,” he agreed. “She brought me over here.”

  I grinned. “What’s your question, Kelly?”

  She put her elbows on the edge of the stage. “Stuart’s getting a hero name here tonight by popular vote. What’ll it be?”

  None of the conversation before had told me what he could actually do, but pressing for more details would not be part of my job or this reading. Still curious, I gave his sister the bad news.

  “I’m afraid this doesn’t work like that. I couldn’t say—but hopefully it’s not Hero McHeroface.” Kelly looked disappointed I didn’t provide an answer, and Stuart like he wanted to shout his agreement to please not give him a silly name. I moved on. “Family is crucial to you—you’d do anything for them and—”

  “Who cares? Tell us about his love life!” a woman from the crowd put in.

  “He’d have to have one,” Kelly said over her shoulder with a laugh.

  Stuart’s cheeks flushed bright red.

  The woman said, “That means he’s single. What about you, Stella Sumner?”

  Vickie the publicist decided to answer for me. “She’s single, too!”

  Obviously, I would have to kill her later. Or at least have a word with her about how much I valued my privacy.

  “What do you say, Stuart?” someone else called out.

  There wasn’t usually this much crowd participation in even charity readings, and this train had gone way off the tracks. I needed to get control over the situation. I was eight years older than Stuart—too much older for this kind of speculation. Not to mention, people with secrets like mine couldn’t afford to get too close to anyone. There were good reasons I stayed single.

  “Please,” I said with a note of knock it off, “I need to concentrate.” I squinted down at the star chart as if determining Stuart’s fate in love. The restless crowd had settled a little by the time I turned my attention back to Stuart. His cheeks were still pink. “Venus rules love and relationships, and an Aries like Stuart brings an innocent charm to relationships. He has a childlike quality.”

  There, no one would suggest anything more after I basically called him childish.

  Stuart had gone solemn. It wasn’t a look I could’ve pictured on him.

  “Here,” I said as gently as I could and pushed the chart toward him across the table. “I don’t have time to go into everything, but this is yours to keep. Can everyone give Stuart a round of applause for being such a good sport?”

  The crowd complied, and there were a few more stray camera clicks.

  Our hands touched as Stuart took the paper with its zodiac diagrams from me and our eyes met for a long moment. The degree to which I felt the brief connection—like a strong shot of espresso injected directly into my veins—was strange. And unwelcome.

  Except, after Stuart took the chart and rejoined the crowd, stopping beside his sister and then signing an autograph for someone, I realized I should’ve thanked him. Suddenly, I was wide awake.

  “Who’s next?” I asked and Vickie-the-way-too-helpful steered the next victim toward the table.

  Chapter 2

  Stuart

  I spent a good ten minutes on autopilot after the reading. People came and talked to me. Kelly definitely talked to me, too. She was teasing me, I think. It’s hard to say because I wasn’t taking in a word anyone was saying.

  I was thinking about Stella.

  The memory of her hand touching mine made my fingers tingle. Had she liked me or was she just being professional? Probably a big part of her job was putting people at ease. I doubted she gave that kind of attention to everyone. She certainly hadn’t to Pygmalion. That meant she liked me more than Pygmalion! A little smile crept onto my face. The assistant had said Stella was single. I was single and she was single. Maybe that meant that we could…Then I remembered Kelly saying I had no love life in front of the cameras and my ego died a second death. And then I remembered Stella talking about love on my chart. She’d said I was childlike. Innocent. Which was sweet, but the polar opposite of sexy. Why not just say virginal and be done with it? She probably didn’t even see me as a grown man.

  That little smile faded away.

  I clearly had no chance with her.

  Luckily for me, there were other anxieties to take my mind off things. The day raced by in a flurry of handshakes and smiles and small talk. Sometimes Kelly would rescue me when I struggled; sometimes Colin would move me on. Before I knew it, I was making my way onto the main stage again. It was time to find out the results of the auction and what people would call me for the rest of my life.

  Colin was on the mic, talking to the packed room. “I’m pleased to tell you that the secret bidding to name our hero has ended and we will be bringing you the results shortly. Before I get to that, however, let’s take a moment to reflect on the incredible work Reachers has done to help the most isolated members of our community. All thanks to your kindness…”

  He went on for some time as I stood next to him. Like the crowd, I was a captive audience. What he was saying was important but I’m ashamed to say I wasn’t really listening because I was too busy begging the universe to have mercy on me. I’m not particularly superstitious or religious, but I silently offered all manner of things to any interested gods in return for a good result.

  “I’m pleased to announce,” Colin began, snapping my attention back to the present, “that we have a special guest to bring you the results. Please give a warm welcome to one of our nation’s true heroes. An esteemed member of the Silver Helix. The one and only…Pygmalion!”