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“Yeah, he’s right here.” I hoist the phone towards her dad. “You wanna say hi?”
Lo glances at the phone. “It’s for his own good.”
“The world won’t ever let this go, Dad,” Luna says quietly. “They’ll always think you two hate each other.”
“Give me the phone.” Lo is already reaching for my cell. He holds it against his ear, and I just hear him tell his daughter, “We’re taking this week by week. Day by day. You don’t need to stress about the future. No one, and I mean no one, can predict what’s going to happen a year, three years, a decade from now. Not even your genius aunt and uncle. Okay?”
“Okay,” she says quietly, and I wanna exterminate all doubt in her head—but I stay silent this time, worried if I speak up I’ll just be lying to her and myself.
FANATICON
DIRECT MESSAGES
Nov 15th
1:02 p.m.
StaleBread89: bought Fanaticon Convention tickets before they sold out ??
Illyana_Dallas222: you still want to go with me?
StaleBread89 read at 1:03 p.m.
Illyana_Dallas222: is that a no?
8
LUNA HALE
Fifteen minutes after I sent the DM to Donnelly, he still hasn’t responded.
It’s fine, I try to tell my anxious heart. He’s not in the penthouse, or else I’d knock on his door and chat with him in person.
“He’s probably just busy doing security things,” I mutter out loud, not to my fish or my puppy. This time, I’m speaking to a living breathing human being.
A squishy, baby-cheeked Ripley Hale is beside me eating strawberries, swinging his little legs on the couch and watching superhero cartoons on the penthouse’s living room TV.
I stare at the DMs on my phone, my stomach somersaulting. Besides this blip in communication, I’m just hoping today isn’t the day the media decides to run the article about the fake feud between my dad and Donnelly.
Maybe I should check, but digging into the internet sounds about as fun as swallowing a sword right now.
“For every step forward, Donnelly and I are taking a giant leap back into a dumpster fire,” I tell Ripley. “You know Gamora and Star-Lord had an easier romance. And they’re different species!” I fall further back against the couch cushion.
“Wow,” Ripley says to me like I’m going through a whole lot.
I let out a breath. “I appreciate the concern,” I say softly into a nod. “Truth be told, I’m no Avenger or Guardian of any Galaxy, but Donnelly could be one. He really could.”
Ripley chews on a strawberry, staring intently at me.
He’s a good listener, just like his dads.
“He’s in leagues with the heroes of all earthly and galactic realms,” I profess strongly.
Ripley gasps in astonishment. “Really?”
“Really, really.” I stare off in thought. “Except, media is a different kinda enemy.” I glance back at my phone. “One that I would’ve never knowingly created.”
My dad and Donnelly finally beginning to mend their hostile relationship? Great. The cannons have been stowed away.
My dad and Donnelly about to be sensationalized in the press for hating one another? Awful. New cannons have been brought on board, and these ones are powered by media and fans.
“What’s worse,” I say aloud, “is Donnelly might have zero chance. My dad, your grandpa, has years upon years of being beloved.”
For standing devotedly at my mom’s side.
For his sobriety.
For raising four children—the oldest of which is treated like a national treasure.
Donnelly is known for his thirst trap videos on social media, which…yeah, they’re hot. So hot I might’ve watched them to death and used them for writing inspo, but him lip-syncing to hit songs while shirtless isn’t the kinda coverage that’ll win over the world. And I hate that they’ll likely be pitted against one another to begin with. I hate that people will take sides and there’ll be a crusade against Donnelly, just to uplift my dad.
It’s not real.
“It’s not real,” I mutter, more to myself this time.
Normally, I love fantasies. Other realities.
But this alternate reality we’re living in is the absolute worst. I want to shut the cover and return it to the library.
And I feel partly to blame. He wouldn’t have to do any of this if he didn’t want to be with me. I hate that there’s nothing I can do. Which feels eons worse. I want to help. I want to be a part of the schemes. I can scheme!
I sigh out, “I don’t even know the depth of what he’s doing with his dad.” He hasn’t explained the security situation. Maybe because I haven’t asked outright yet. It’s just felt like a tender subject, and I’m a little afraid of detonating a bomb that’ll crack a crater between us.
He said he’d tell me everything. Or at least, he’d try. Then why am I so timid about asking?
The same reason why I’m nervous he won’t reply to my DM. What if things have changed so much that it’s uncomfortable between us now?
