AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Epic night with a cute alien girl and the Bass finale
Notes: Luna and I haven’t told anyone about our Fanaticon identities yet. No rush. StaleBread89 and Illyanna_Dallas222 still kicking it with anonymity and whatnot. Our dates have all been bedroom dates. Hoping to take things out of the bedroom…but it’s complicated.
Meals: Morning gotta grab and go like my favorite bro. (Talking about Oscar.) Lunch? Dinner = pick up.
Water: Scottie’s gonna make me super salty. Drink up, motherfucker.
Question of the Day: Am I more like Zarek or the human in Luna’s fic? Is Ryke Meadows a secret yogi?
33
PAUL DONNELLY
Goal: Make Loren Hale My Best Friend
Hardest goal I’ve ever created in my life? Checks out. Especially given the fact that I slept with his daughter.
That night isn’t something we’re trying to spread around, but I live with my friends. She lives with her family. Keeping anything under lock and key in the penthouse would take a mountain of lies. And I don’t like deceiving my friends.
Evading is easier, but when Maximoff asked Luna what’s going on with her and me after the Halloween party—no matter how many times she shrugged, he knew.
Farrow knew. To quote the Emperor of Petty, they weren’t born yesterday.
But Luna and I aren’t spelling out the word sex for them or even how far we went. They could be thinking we just kissed, maybe hit third base—I dunno. It doesn’t really matter right now.
“Just be careful,” is Maximoff’s advice to his sister, always.
I asked Farrow if he thought I just wrote my one-way ticket to Montana. I caught him up on everything with my family and the run at the state park with Lo.
Farrow said, “Man, I wouldn’t open with I hooked up with your daughter ever. Leave that out and just try to find his good side.”
“His good side bashful or something? I think I’ve been scaring it away.”
I know it exists.
His good side. You don’t become so beloved by the people around you without having one. But Farrow is right, I shouldn’t even be bringing up Luna if I want to be off Lo’s shit list.
He might’ve spared me in the woods when we went running. But he could finally grow the nerve to fire me. I don’t want to push him to do that, but it feels more likely now that we’re spending time together in “team-up” mode.
After a pitstop at the prison, Lo drives us to Superheroes & Scones. Closing hours, no one is at the comic book and coffee shop hybrid the Hales own. He’s abandoned his security again in favor of me. It might not be an intentional compliment or ego-boost, but I’m taking it. Pocketing it. Savoring it.
He likes me as a bodyguard.
It might be the only thing he likes about me.
On the upper lounge level of Superheroes & Scones—fit with TVs, couches, and beanbags—Xander’s dad is in a crabby patty mood. Scottie stood us up at the prison. It’s just like my uncle to agree to a meeting and then bail at the last minute.
After Lo sits on a yellow and blue couch with retro X-Men fabric, he hurls a Hulk pillow away and then rifles through his briefcase, pulling out paper after paper and tossing them on the coffee table.
I could sit beside him, but his narrowed eyes are cutting everything in the room. So I’m not doing that. I gently kick over a black beanbag, and I take a seat on the other side of the coffee table. It lets out a squishy noise.
Lo shoots me a look like I chucked a water balloon at him.
“What?” I ask. “If you don’t like beanbags, why’d you put them in your store?”
He flings a file folder at my chest. “I like the beanbag. I don’t like you.”
I hold on to the folder and almost reply, Seems like a you problem. But I keep that one in my front pocket.
New Goal: Make Loren Hale Like Me…Then Make Him My Best Friend
“Sorry about Scottie,” I tell him, and I’m resisting the urge to unearth my cigarettes. “I think he’s gonna be a dead-end. He likes pulling people’s strings, so he might just keep setting up the meetings and then be a no-show.”
Lo’s glare doesn’t soften. “I sensed that…ugh, goddammit.” He’s digging deeper into his briefcase.
I look him over. “You need something?”
His jaw tics, eyes veering towards the staircase back down to the main floor. “I left my glasses at the house. Great.” He flashes me a dry smile. “Having fun yet?”
“It’s not 3 a.m. yet and my shirt’s not on the floor, so…” I’m trailing off at his glare. “It’s a joke. I’m joking.” He’s trying to ease, so I ask, “Your glasses—they’re readers?”
“Yep.”
He’s farsighted, and I dig in my front pocket. Luckily, I have a shittier pair of glasses with me plus my best ones. So I toss him the nicer set. “Try these.”
