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"Oh my god." She laughs. "That's perfect."
"You have a sweater like that?"
"No." She pulls her cell from her purse. "But Holden might."
"When has he worn an orange hoodie?"
"Okay, he might know someone who does. Or… I'm sure there's something at Santa Monica Place."
"A hundred-dollar hoodie from Nordstrom?"
"Twenty-dollar hoodie from H&M?" She taps a text to her boyfriend. "If you ask nicely, he'll probably grab one for you."
"That's okay." I don't want to owe him a favor. "I'll go before work tomorrow."
"You sure?" Her eyes flit to the wig. "It would be a tragedy if you didn't complete your costume."
"I'll make it happen."
She laughs it's perfect. But there's something else in it too. This knowing smile.
Like she knows I'm doing it because I'm fucking Luna.
But that's ridiculous.
How could she know?
Chapter Forty-One
Luna
Daisy sits on her pink sheets. She falls onto her back. Spreads out. Sighs like she's completely out of energy.
I get the feeling.
I'm equal parts adrenaline and exhaustion. We spent the entire night watching Riverdale and molding chocolate into inappropriate shapes. (Yes, I have vulva molds, who doesn't?)
Every few minutes, I looked at my new tattoo and thought oh my god, I did that.
I really did.
It's really there.
God, it's awesome. There's no better word. Amazing, beautiful, powerful, cool.
Totally and completely awesome.
Daisy yawns. "How am I going to a party in two hours?"
"Your boyfriend's party."
"I know." She lets her eyes close. "What if I sleep instead?"
"He'll leave, come here, climb into bed with you."
She lets out a murmur of approval. "Sounds perfect."
It does. I already miss Oliver's touch. The feeling of his body wrapped around mine. It's only been a day, but that's a day too long.
I need to hold him and kiss him and fuck his brains out.
"I'm talking about him a lot, aren't I?" She rolls onto her side. Reaches for a pillow. Slides it under her head.
Yeah, but it's good to see her happy. "Is he a good cuddler?"
"Mmm."
"I would think he can't sit still."
"Sometimes. But not if I've worn him out."
"Daisy Flynn, you minx."
She giggles. "I think it's more biology."
I take a seat at her vanity. It's so her. Pretty and white and clean. "You drain every drop he has. Even his energy."
"Gross."
"What if he said it?"
"You know, Oliver accused me of making a Holden joke yesterday."
"Did you?" I ask.
She pushes herself up on her elbows. "Kinda."
"He's funny."
She raises a brow since when?
"Hey! Who told you to go after him?"
"Yeah."
"Even when you protested that he didn't see you that way. Even when you said it could never be anything serious. Even when you said Oliver would kill him."
"Oliver barely talks to him."
Not. Going. There. "He'll get over it." I try to ignore the matter completely. "Who encouraged you?"
"It was you."
"So don't give me that you don't approve look. I approve."
"Do you?" She shoots me exactly that look.
"Okay, sure, he's a bit of a fuckboy—"
"Hey."
I laugh. "Okay, he was a bit of a fuckboy. I admit it. I didn't have faith in him. I pushed you for you, Daisy. Because I wanted you to seize the cock."
"My new tattoo."
"Right here." I motion to her pelvis.
"More visible." She holds out her arm.
"I will if you will."
"Usually, I'd call that bluff. But right now." Her eyes go to my new tattoo. "I can't believe you did that."
"Isn't it amazing?"
"It is." She studies the lines. "And you let Oliver… I thought you'd ask someone else."
Right. That would be smart. Someone who isn't emotionally involved. But she doesn't know how emotionally involved we are.
It's not completely and totally obvious.
I think.
I hope.
"Do you like him?" she asks.
"What?" I swallow hard.
"Holden."
My shoulders fall with relief. "He treats you well. I like that."
"You don't?" She sits up straight. "Still?"
"Daisy, I like him. I don't want to be his best friend, but I like hanging out with the two of you. Well… not alone. You're a little…" I make a kiss-kiss sound.
She blushes. "I know. I'm terrible. I just… I haven't seen him in forever. And he's so cute. And his lips are so soft. And he tastes like my favorite tea."
"You don't have to justify yourself. I'd do the same."
"Yeah? Were you and Sean ever that… insatiable?"
"At first." I unzip my makeup bag. Sure, we have two hours. But I need a distraction. Or I might confess everything. I'm bursting at the seams. I want to tell someone. No, I want to tell her.
She's my best friend.
I want to tell her everything.
I hate that I haven't been able to tell her everything. It's so much more obvious with her right here.
But I can't. Not yet. So I stay on Sean. "He was always a dick. But it was only to other people at first. And it made me feel kind of special. That he was only nice to me."
She nods with understanding.
"And, god, he made me feel like, well, a minx. He always wanted to touch me, kiss me, take off my clothes." I didn't mind that it was always what he wanted, when he wanted it, on his terms. Not at first. "After a while, it was… a little pushy. But at first, I liked that he'd pull me aside at a friend's house and roll my dress to my waist."
