We sit quietly for a moment, suspended in warmth and thought. Another time, under different circumstances, I’d let myself fall for Luna. It would be so easy.
Looking at her, all theif onlysswirl in my mind. Her face is flushed from the heat, and her necklace peeks through the bubbles. I noticed it earlier—a round opal. I reach out, touching the pendant. “Is this your birthstone?”
“Yes, October. But it’s more symbolic than that.”
“What does it symbolize?” I ask.
Her head tilts, her expression shifting—surprise first, then something warm but still careful. “You really want to know?”
“Yes. If you’re willing to share it.”
She takes a small breath. “The first spots appeared when I was seven. They spread slowly for a while. The doctor said it was an autoimmune condition where the immune system destroys melanin cells. That’s what causes the discoloration. It’s often hereditary, though we don’t know of anyone with it in our family. And there’s no cure.”
My throat tightens. “You don’t look like you need to be cured of anything.”
She smiles softly. “I feel that way now, but I didn’t for a long time. It was rough during my teens. By then, many of the patches were large and noticeable.” She shifts, rippling the water. “My mom died when I was four. So it was just me and my dad.”
“I’m sorry, Luna.” I can’t even imagine that kind of loss. I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her. I feel her warm breath on my neck and the steady rise and fall of her chest against mine.
“I don’t remember her enough,” she whispers. “I wish I did, but it’s just pieces, fragments.”
I kiss her forehead. “You were so young.”
“I know. But my dad made sure I knew her through pictures and stories. He tried to be both parents for me—always did his best. I love him for that. But there were some things he didn’t know how to help with. Especially once my body started changing.”
She inches away, but we stay close. “I hid my arms with long sleeves, even in the summer. Covered my face, neck, and hands with makeup. I was so self-conscious of people staring. Like I was a freak show or like I was contagious. I don’t even know if that was true, but it became true to me.”
“That’s a lot for a kid to carry.”
“I brought it into adulthood with me, too.” She exhales heavily. “I think that’s why I settled for the wrong men and put up with their shit. I was looking to be loved and accepted anywhere I could find it, even when it wasn’t good for me.”
“You deserve so much better.” Anger bubbles in my chest, wanting to crush every man who has hurt her. “They weren’t worthy of you.”
“I finally figured that out. Therapy helped.” Her fingers curl around the opal. “After my last doomed relationship ended, I decided I was done. No more losers and users. No more settling. That’s when I stopped covering myself up. And bought this necklace. An opal moon. Corny maybe… “She shrugs. “But it reminds me that I can shine just as I am, even through dark or tough times.”
“Not corny at all,” I say, moved by her story. “Is that how you came up with the name Luna?”
“It didn’t feel like a lie because it’s a part of me.”
I nod. Agreeing. I don’t know the name on her birth certificate, but her softness, her strength, the way she owns her light now instead of hiding it, the woman who chased away the darkness I’ve known for the last six months—she’s Luna.
“I already thought you were extraordinary, but you just keep raising the bar.”
“I’m still a work in progress.”
“Hard to improve on perfection.” I slide my mouth over hers, cupping her face.
Our kiss starts slow and tender, deepening with each beat. The water sloshes against the porcelain as we move closer, as close as we can get. The need builds fast, the tub soon feeling too small for what’s pressing between us.
“Shower,” I murmur against her mouth.
She moans, already reaching for the drain. We move carefully, helping each other out, slick skin and quiet laughs.
It’s a damn good thing Luna has a condom at the ready. Steam fills the stall as the water heats. She braces her back against the cool tile, and when she glances up at me, all I see is want and trust.
She lifts her leg around my hip, and gripping beneath her thigh, I slide into her. She’s warm, pliant, clinging to me as if she knows what I already do—this is our last time.
The sounds we make mingle in the air and echo off the tile as we rock together with building urgency. I can feel her almost there, her moans quickening. The way she squeezes my sides. Then, with a cry of my name—making me glad I’d given it to her—she comes apart in my arms. Those tight, pulsing tremors milk me so good, one more thrust and they take me with her.
