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He whispers something, no doubt about how she needs all the energy she can for later, but, hey, I'm going to pretend it was man, these two really don't get tea.
A few hours later, Daisy knocks on my bedroom door. "Hey." Her voice is soft. Somewhere between tired and gentle. "I brought coffee."
"You made coffee?"
"No." She laughs. "We stopped at that place you love. With the six-dollar cold brew." She knocks again. "I have to say, I don't get it. They don't have a single tea."
"Better than bad tea."
"Maybe." She knocks again. Softly. Daisy is too polite to say open the damn door or what's the hold up, are you naked or some shit? Put your dick away.
That's firmly Luna and Holden territory, respectively.
I want to talk to her. And I am ready for visitors. Dressed in my usual jeans and t-shirt. At my desk, working on a mock-up. But I can't stop thinking about Luna.
The sound of her groan.
The taste of her lips.
The look on her face when she saw her new ink.
Her first.
And it's mine.
Fuck, this is not the time. I'm talking to my sister. Without her boyfriend around. That's important.
More important than my dick.
Not that it cares.
I close my eyes. Think of baseball.
Only I know jack shit about baseball. So I think about my dad shaking his head Oliver, I wish you weren't such a disappointment.
Bam. Desire gone.
"Come in." I swallow hard. The room is clean. Everything is in place. I made sure of that as soon as I got home.
But what if I missed something?
What if Daisy can smell Luna's soap? Or she spots a black bra and I have no explanation?
What if it's obvious?
Daisy turns the door. Moves inside with gentle steps. Holds up the cold brew like it's a trophy.
"Is that a bribe?" I ask.
She bends. Picks up a takeout cup of tea from the floor. "If it is?"
"If it's a bribe, you want something. What is it?"
"How are you, Daisy? I've missed you. It's nice to see you. I like your haircut."
"We covered that."
She nods maybe. Moves to the desk. Sets the takeout cups on it. "I missed you too."
Okay, I'm being an asshole. It's not her fault I'm tense. It's not her fault I'm fucking her best friend. That's firmly between me and my dick. "I miss you like crazy, Daise. I look at apartments in Berkeley three times a week."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
She picks up her tea. Motions to the bed. Can I? Or maybe is it clean?
Either way, the answer is yes. "Changed the sheets when we got in."
"Forward thinking."
"Or I want everything fresh when I find someone at Holden's party."
Her face scrunches with distaste. "Are you still… doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Sleeping with every pretty girl you meet?"
"Not every one." That's technically true. Even if it's not what she means.
"Holden says you're on a sabbatical."
"Does he?"
She nods. Takes a long sip. "He misses you too, you know. I get why you're pissed. I'd be pissed too if I found out you were dating someone behind my back. Say… Luna. I guess that's the only person it could be."
"Yeah." I swallow hard.
"But… give him a chance, okay?"
What can I say? No, I'd never do that and he shouldn't either? "We talked today."
"More than I expected."
More than I expected too. I guess it's harder to stay angry when I'm doing the same thing. "I'm trying. I'm just…"
"Not over it?"
"Yeah."
"How are you going to get over it? Sitting here in your room and stewing?"
"Talked to him today, didn't I?"
She nods. "Even worked together." Her gaze shifts to the temporary tattoo on her forearm. Luctor et emergo. I struggle and I emerge. Optimistic, empowering, perfect for her.
"It looks good on you."
My sister smiles. "Are you going to make me promise you can do my first?"
"Is that in the cards?"
"Holden wants to do it."
Usually I'd say bad idea, you shouldn't let your boyfriend do your ink. But it's not like I can talk there. "I am a better artist."
"I'll consider that." Her voice shifts to a serious tone. "I'm proud of you."
"You're proud of me?"
"For letting me go. Not treating me like a vase that's going to break if anyone handles me roughly."
"Is someone handling you roughly?"
"You know what I mean?"
"Did someone hurt you?" My big brother sense kicks in immediately. Fuck hypocrisy or fair or letting her bloom on her own. If someone is fucking with her, I'm stopping them. By any means necessary.
"No, Oliver. Oh my god! I'm trying to tell you I appreciate you treating me like an adult. And this—" She motions to my fists. "I'm good. I'll let you know if I'm not."
"You sure?"
"I am."
"You're eating okay?"
She shoots me a don't look.
"I haven't asked yet."
"You ask every week."
"But I haven't asked today," I say.
She shakes her head you're ridiculous. "Okay. I'll answer that question, but I won't allow any follow-up questions."
