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"Thank you." I sniffle, rubbing my eyes as I turn around and walk my bare feet across the tannish, yellowing carpet. Roman's bedroom door is opened, and he has his guitar in his lap as he sits on the side of the bed. On his nightstand sits a tall glass of clear liquid—I'm assuming water—and two little red pills.
He notices me when I step inside and props his guitar up against his bed as he stands up. "Are those clothes okay? I was going to get something of Nora's, but I'm guessing they would all be too small."
I nod. "These are fine." I glance at the table again, incredibly thirsty, since I was never able to drink that punch Travis was supposed to get for me earlier.
"Oh, here. Here's some water, and my mom said that Advil will help if you have a stomachache."
I nod my head, walking over to the table and swallowing down the pills with the water, gulping down large mouthfuls until the entire glass is empty. My stomach cramps, and I frown. "Maybe I should go home. I don't feel good."
"I can take you if you want. Or you can stay here, and I can play a little for you?"
I think about going home, and my mom's excitement over me getting my period. She'll hound me and ask me a bunch of questions, ask me how I'm feeling, and talk about womanhood. Or I can stay here with Roman until I'm forced to go home.
"I'll stay," I whisper.
He smiles, and I crawl under his blue comforter that smells like him. It's heavy and thick and I would sweat like crazy if I used this every night, but right now I'm freezing, like I have the chills. Probably from the blood loss, so I'm grateful to slip between the sheets that smell so much like Roman and burrow underneath its thickness.
I face away from him, keeping my back toward him as I curl up into a ball. My knees press against my chest and my toes brush against his cool sheets.
I can feel the other side of the mattress sink and can hear as he gets comfortable on his side of the bed. It's not a big bed, only a double size, but it's bigger than my twin-sized bed at home.
Roman starts plucking notes on his acoustic guitar, the one he rarely uses. He's a rock-and-roll guy like his father, but when he picks up his acoustic, I can't help but melt at the sounds. The soft tunes, the easy melodies. He plucks each note with ease.
"Roman?" I ask, my eyes closing as I imagine his fingers tugging on each string of his guitar, his fingers getting small red line indentations on the tips.
"Hmmm?" he responds, not stopping his random notes.
"Thank you for coming. Thank you for helping me."
He stops playing at this, a sharp, awkward note fading off into the distance and I imagine him pressing his palm against the strings.
"I wouldn't have had it any other way, Luna."
He starts up again, playing the notes until a tune starts, and then his voice starts crooning gently and quietly. Each note trails through the room until it reaches me. His voice swirls around my neck, my arms, my aching stomach, until they slip into my mouth and wrap directly around my heart.
I close my eyes and listen to the notes until they lull me to sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LUNA
My body bends as I spin in the air, my toes pointed, and my arms bowed above my head. I come down, landing on my toes and tiptoe across the stage. I can feel the pressure of my toes against the hard, wooden floor. I bend myself back, arching my spine and then I snap up, running forward and going into a split. I come down onto my toes, and then spin with my leg out, toes pointed. I end softly, going into a gentle bow.
The crowd goes wild and the curtains close, and every other dancer in The Nutcracker comes out. The curtain opens once more, and we all do a group bow as everyone stands and claps. Whistles and cheers are heard, and I think I even hear Roman in the crowd shouting my name.
The curtains close for a second time, and then it's chaos in the back. Everyone undresses into their regular clothes. Parents walk into the backstage area and greet their kids and give hugs. Soon my mom and dad are wrapping me in their arms, and my sister stands behind them. It's winter vacation, so Harper was able to come home for school break.
"You were wonderful, Luna!" My mom praises. I played Clara in The Nutcracker, a play that I have been practicing for since school started this year. I'm beat and tired, and I'm ready to go relax for Christmas in a couple days.
I say goodbye to my teacher and the other dancers, and then we walk off to the front, where Nora, Roman, and Goldie are all waiting for us.
"You did great, baby!" Goldie wraps me in a hug that I take willingly. I wrap my arms around her, loving the smell of Roman and their house that I've come to know as my second home.
"I so wish I could dance like that. How you can stand on your toes like that is beyond me." Nora scoffs and I laugh.
Roman stares at me, a proud and happy look on his face. Since the winter carnival when I got my first period, Roman and my relationship has been so much deeper than it's ever been before. We spend so much time together. We always have, but we're closer now. The simple touches, and the gentle glances—it's like my breath is stolen. He steals it easily, with only a glance, and I let him.
I let him swallow my breaths and my heart, and he takes them greedily.
