AllFreeNovel
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And there it is, I think as my internal organs begin to malfunction. The reason I avoid looking right at her. The same reason you don’t look directly at the sun, I guess; bad for your health. Even as frazzled and disheveled as she appears right now.
One hand smoothes back the wisps escaping her ponytail, the other swiping a flushed cheek before pushing open the door behind her. She slips into an empty kitchen and, without thinking, I prop myself in the doorway, watching as she yanks open a dishwasher. “Were you looking for something?” she asks, the question punctuated by a grunt, the muscles in her arms straining as she hoists a crate full of freshly washed glasses out of the machine and onto the counter.
“No,” is what I plan to say, since Luna’s question sounds suspiciously like a dismissal.
I’m not sure where “you need help?” comes from.
It’s slow, how she turns to me, a hand on her hip and an incredulously amused expression arching her brows. “You wanna help me polish glasses?” When I shrug, she tuts. “It’s a yes or no question, Jackson.”
I swallow, I cough, I fucking choke. “Yeah, I do.”
A moment of hesitation, a half shake of a head, before an inviting arm waves in the air. “Be my guest.”
It feels weird, wrong, and slightly exhilarating, sauntering through a door marked ‘staff only.’Even more so because of the pretty blonde watching me like a hawk.
Picking up a rag and a glass, I get to work, trying and failing to ignore the sight in my peripheral vision. It’s only when I pass her a rag of her own, slender fingers brushing mine, does Luna let out a quiet, breathy laugh and re-assigns her gaze to the steaming glasses. “Are your friends really that boring?”
“I prefer sober company.”
“Sober company,” she repeats with a low hum. “And what about mine?”
It’s a miracle, really, that I don’t drop the glass in my hand. And that it only takes a very long minute to choke out, “Yours is good.”
“Helpandflattery. Your girlfriend is a lucky woman.”
I pause polishing. “My what?”
“Your girlfriend,” Luna repeats nonchalantly, the glitter in her bright white nail polish catching the light as she holds up a glass for inspection. “The one my friend kicked out. Sorry about that, by the way.”
“She's not my girlfriend.” I'm really not sure what gave her that impression considering I barely talked to the girl.
Up goes a pale brow. “No?”
“Nope.”
“She's busy tonight?”
“Who?”
“Your girlfriend.”
“I don't have a girlfriend.”
“Oh.” Luna hums, a hint of a smile gracing pink lips. “Good to know.”
Good to know.
Good to know.
A phrase suddenly so goddamn foreign to me becausewhat? What does that mean? What doesshemean?
I’m too chickenshit to ask. I just cough and nod and stay silent some more until… I don’t. Until I find a long-buried, tiny shred of bravery and spit out, “What about yours?”
Luna side-eyes me, head tilted in question.
I swallow hard. “Your boyfriend. He busy tonight?”
Her hesitation lasts forever. Or at least, it feels like it does. I hold my breath as I wait, silently wishing I could pluck my words from the air and shove them back down my throat. When that serious, contemplative look softens and laughter echoes around the room, my breath leaves me in one big whoosh. “No.”
