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“Someone you do not want to fuck with.” Cocking my head, I pretend to think for a moment. “You go to NYU, right?”
Eva nods slowly, and I let out a thoughtful hum. “My father used to guest lecture there. Regina MacIntyre is the Chairperson, isn't she?”
Bright red fades to slightly green as Eva nods again.
“Hm. I remember her stances on anti-harassment being pretty severe.”
“We-”
“Because that's what you're doing. You're harassing her.” I lean in, hoping Eva sees every bit of anger coursing through me, and the utmost sincerity in my promise. “And if it happens again,ever again, I'm not gonna be quite as nice as I've been tonight. Got it?”
Eva hesitates and I sigh, feigning boredom as I mess with the cuffs of my shirt. “You know, I don't leave until tomorrow afternoon. I'm sure Reggie would be thrilled to have an early lunch with her old colleague's son.”
It’s audible, the sound of Eva’s swallow, more so than the quiet, begrudging, “got it.”
Kissing my teeth, I frown, angle an ear toward her. “What was that?”
“I got it,” she repeats through gritted teeth and I smile.
“Good.” Heading toward the door again, I wait until I have one foot outside before calling over my shoulder. “I wish I could say it was nice meeting you but I’m a really bad liar.”
* * *
Luna's laughter echoes around the hotel room. “You did not say that to her!”
“I did.”
“You called her a bitch?”
“More than once.” And she wholly deserved it.
“Do you really know the chairperson of NYU?”
“I met her a couple of times when I was a kid.” At a baseball game me and my dad bumped into her and her son, and my dad introduced me as his nephew.
Tossing away the towel she’s using to dry her hair, Luna flops on the bed beside me, propping her face in her hands and gazing up at me. “I think you're my new hero.”
I haul her onto my chest, the soft material of the hotel robe she's oh-so-fond of tickling my bare chest, and drop a kiss on the top of her damp hair. Forehead nestled in the curve of my neck, lips graze my collarbone. “Thank you for doing that.”
“You don’t need to thank me.” I sat there and let them talk shit about her for too long; putting one of them in their place was necessary for my own mental health.
Angling her head to stare up at me, Luna swallows. “Jackson?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I love you.”
For a moment, not a single thing passes through my brain. Another moment before I clear my dry throat. One more before I rasp my only coherent thought, “You think?” Luna’s hum is shaky, as shaky as my hands as they smooth slow, calming circles over her back. “Why do you think that?”
“Need me to stroke your ego, baby?”
One serious utterance of her name is all it takes for Luna’s bravado to falter. Teeth nibbling on her bottom lip, she thinks for long enough to test my patience. And all she manages to come up with? “You're nice to me.”
“You think you love me because I'm nice to you?” I try and fail to hide my amusement, and get thumped as a consequence. “I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you, I swear. I just think you need a little more reasoning than that.”
Luna pauses, and I can practically see the gears whirring in that pretty little head of hers. “You make me feel nice. Safe. I don't know, seen or heard or whatever. You respect me and you protect me and you stick up for me. You know all my favorite things and you're sweet to my friends and you make my mom really happy. And you make me really happy.Andyou're nice to me.”
A warm feeling erupts in my chest as the words sink in. “Those are pretty good reasons.”
