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He’s resting against his headboard. Sketchbook in hand and wearing reading glasses, he goes rigid as I barrel in. “Luna?” He canvasses the length of me, and I’m more aware I’m only wearing an oversized AC/DC tee I found in my drawer.
He’s only in drawstring pants, shirtless. His chest rises in a deep breath. For the first time, I notice a stick figure tattoo by his ribs and a creepy skeleton head inked on his inner forearm. He is new to me.
But he wasn’t so new to her.
Orion distracts him, jumping onto the bed and licking his face. He scratches and pats my puppy, but quickly, he slides off the floral comforter, concerned. “Luna—”
“Sorry, I just…” I’m out of breath, panting, overwhelmed.
Donnelly puts a hand on my back. “Lemme get you some water—”
“Nono,” I slur together. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” I step back from him, my breath still ragged but I manage to say, “I know we haven’t talked very much lately…after my birthday.”
Donnelly takes off his reading glasses, then rubs the crease of his eye. “Yeah, I’ve been hoping you’d want to talk to me…eventually.”
It rocks me back. “You’ve been waiting for me to talk to you?”
“I didn’t wanna push you in any direction. You’ve gotta figure this out on your own, Luna, and I…” He looks away, his eyes reddening. “I don’t wanna hurt you. I can’t hurt you.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “So if time away from me is what you need, then I can give you space.”
He has given me that.
I open my mouth, but words are caught.
“Your therapist throwing confetti parties in my honor?” he banters with a rising smile.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “She isn’t sad about this break.”
He nods slowly. “A break.” He skims me up and down. “Is that what we’re calling it?” He eases backwards in a daze, sitting on the edge of the bed. Staring at his cupped hands, he says under his breath, “Maybe I never even had you.”
“That’s not true,” I whisper.
Donnelly looks up at me, his eyes bloodshot as he restrains raw emotion.
The truth of what I’ve felt flows through me. “She loved you. She loved you so much that you inspired her writing and the stories that meant the absolute most to her. No one else has ever been that for her. No one but you.”
It hits him. I see that in his glassed gaze. The way he looks left, right, processing. He struggles to speak before asking in a single breath, “How do you know that?”
“Human Him, Cosmic Her.” I swallow a lump, my pulse on another ascent. “The human was just supposed to be a rival to Zarek. No romance plot line. Nothing like that. Then in real life, she falls for you and this entirely new character emerges that I never imagined, that I never thought of or could conceptualize—because I hadn’t met you yet. And-and it’s so much better than anything I could’ve written three years ago. It’s beautiful and happy and hopeful. I’m almost certain she loved you.”
He intakes a long breath, then rises slowly off the bed, his hand on the back of his skull. I track his movements as he paces towards the dresser.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I know you loved me, Luna.” He spins back to me. “I just don’t know if you’ll ever love me again.”
A tidal wave of grief surges inside my body, and I whisper, “I’m the bigger cynic and I still believe I could.” I watch him unearth a package of cigarettes from a drawer. “You don’t think it’s possible anymore?”
“I think…” He smacks the package against his palm, choosing his words carefully. “You shouldn’t be worried about being anything with me.”
But…but I am afraid to lose him, and I haven’t been able to explain why. Panic shortens my breath, and I try to stay calm. “Can I have one of those?” I reach for the cigarettes.
He pulls one out, comes closer, and slowly slips it behind my ear. His touch against my skin sends a ripple down my arms. Then he whispers, “I have a lighter around here somewhere.” He can’t find it after a minute of searching, so I grab mine from my room.
Back in his, he’s already holding his own cigarette. I put mine between my lips. He follows suit, edged close enough that our cigarette butts nearly touch. I raise the lighter between us. Our eyes stay latched while the flame licks the ends.
Donnelly sucks in, then plucks out the cigarette to blow smoke upward. My heart thumps. I could count all the many ways I’m attracted to him, and none would be because I was told to like him.
I take a drag, my head whirling with nicotine. We share the quiet for a calming moment, and I end up muttering, “I don’t care if I shouldn’t fixate on you.”
