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She holds onto my gaze, and I hope she believesmeand what I’m saying. Then she whispers, “Will you spend the night? Just to sleep.”
“I was about to ask if I could,” I tell her, then I press a gentle kiss to her lips before I stand. She watches me rise, then she brings the two ends of the towel tighter around her body and follows suit. Back in her room, I mention how I need to speak to her brother for a quick sec.
She might think it’s about how I’m leaving his room and how I’ll have Quinn post up outside his door, but it’s more than that.
* * *
I turnon the brightest lights of the hotel room, and Xander groans into a squint. He shields his eyes. “Everything okay?” he asks tiredly.
“I’m getting Quinn to stay outside your door. I’m gonna be in your sister’s room.”
Xander cringes. Can’t be a pleasant feeling being reminded I’ve banged his sister, even if we’re not doing anything now. Surprisingly though, he asks, “Things are better between you two then?”
“I think so.”I hope so.I take a seat on the edge of my mattress, facing his bed.
Xander rolls onto his back and starts pulling himself up. “If all she wants is your dick, maybe you should be playing hard to get.”
Who says I don’t also want her pussy?He’s not the audience for that comment, so I’m keeping my mouth shut. I wanna say I have enough experience to overturn a teenager’s relationship advice, but I don’t. I have as much as Xander does in this realm.
“Don’t think that’s all she wants,” I tell him casually, then nod to him. “Need to ask you somethin’.”
“Yeah?” He sits on the edge of his bed, facing me too. “What’s up?”
I grip my knees, trying to figure out how to pose this. I usually don’t press people too hard, but I should’ve with Beckett when he was using drugs. I’m not making that mistake again.
I try to remember what it’s like being Xander’s age, but his two-weeks-from-eighteen doesn’t look like mine. I was already on my own by then. I could only rely on myself and the new friends I made.
“I’m not your mom,” I tell him. “Not your dad.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says with very little bite to his voice. He’s soft. It fucking reminds me of his sister, and that screws me up for a second.
“You’re not gonna get in trouble with me, alright? I won’t talk about this to anyone. Just please don’t lie. You can even tell me to fuck off if you really want to.”
Xander tenses. “Okay.”
“I can’t find my straight razor,” I breathe. “And I’m not saying you took it, but I’m not saying you didn’t take it ‘cause I don’t know where it is. You get me?”
He runs his palm over his forehead a couple times, then looks over at me. The expression in his eyes is one of confliction. I say nothing. Do nothing. Then he rises, goes to his backpack on the floor, and returns to me with my stainless-steel razor.
Xander hands it to me.
I fold it up. “Were you going to use it?” I ask, and I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have asked. Too late now.
“I don’t think so,” he answers truthfully. “I thought about it. One time.” When he sits back down, I come over and take a seat right beside him. He turns to look at me. “I’m sorry, Donnelly.”
I turn to look at him. “Thanks for being honest with me.” We chat for a while longer, until I know he’s not stressed or anxious. We’re cool, and I sense trust. Hope he feels like he can come to me, if need be.
Back in Luna’s room, I find her already beneath the covers. Lights off, and I shed my damp pants and my tee before crawling into bed with her. I think I’m quiet enough, but as soon as I roll towards her, she scoots into my chest. Holding her, I feel her heart beating against my pulse. Alive. Slumber and something more content ease my eyes closed.
It feels like my first sleep in weeks.
47
LUNA HALE
Ever since theFanaticon Convention five days ago, I’ve tried to put Original Luna to rest. I suppose this is the final stage of grief.
Acceptance.
