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Luna is in my house, dancing in my living room, drinking my alcohol, and I don’t know what to do.
I saw her the moment she arrived when my hundredth completely nonchalant sweep of the house finally proved fruitful. When she strutted into my home like she owned the place. When every gaze swung toward her, like moths to the brightest flame. When every eye in the room scanned her from head to toe, noting the fluffy halo hovering above a cloud of wavy hair, the matching wings strapped to her back, the tiny white ensemble showing off enough shimmering skin to short circuit my brain.
When she sauntered into the kitchen, gaze sly and smirk secretive, extended her hand, and pretended we didn’t know each other.
“Luna,” she introduced herself to me for at least the third time, and I deflated like a fucking balloon. I shook her hand with a limp grip my grandparents would deem unacceptable. I politely smiled at the friend flanking her, ignoring the air of teasing emanating from mine. And then, I mumbled an excuse and fled in search of air that didn’t inexplicably smell like vanilla.
I’ve been hiding in the backyard for half an hour and still haven’t managed to achieve that. Slouched in one of the lawn chairs we nabbed from a yard sale over the summer, I stare blankly at the sky, ignoring the beer in my hand and the people around me.
I’m not going to lie, I’m hurt. And confused. I don’t get it. I thought… I don’t know, I thought we were friends. Acquaintances at the very damn least. Something worth a‘hey, we actually know each other’when Nick thought he was making first introductions.
Clearly, I thought wrong.
Obviously, I read too much into everything like a big fool with a pathetic crush.
Stifling a groan, I thump my head back against the lounger.
How fucking embarrassing.
I’m so tangled up in my thoughts, it takes me a minute to register the shimmering white floating in my peripheral. When I do, I don’t acknowledge it. I just… wait.
A long moment passes before a voice too chirpy for my current mood permeates the night air. “Stargazing, cowboy?”
Fingers tightening around my beer, I force myself to not look. Not to respond with anything other than a shrug. Not to acknowledge how the minute she appears, everything else around me becomes insignificant.
There’s a creak of plastic as Luna occupies the empty chair beside me, long legs outstretched, feet crossed at the ankles, and her gaze skyward. Nails tap against the armrest restlessly before she aims a finger at a cluster of stars. “That one’s Orion. I googled it.”
I stay silent even as something in my chest thumps a little harder.
“That’s Leo.” She shifts, pointing out a new constellation. “Might only remember that one because it’s my star sign.”
Again, I say nothing. I can’t bring myself to. I don’t have the energy to pretend I’m not upset.
Luna sighs quietly, the noise almost inaudible amidst the din of drunk students but distinctly irritated. Another round of creaking sounds as she shifts to sit sideways and scoots closer until her knees brush my thigh. “Hey.”
“Hi.” I clear my throat, an attempt to erase the kicked-puppy essence to it. “Luna, was it?”
Her laugh is an octave higher than usual. “Funny.”
“Wasn’t tryna be.” I don’t mean to sound so snippy but that’s how it comes out, and I hear Luna’s dissatisfaction in the kiss of her teeth.
“Baby, I’m not in the mood to nurse hurt feelings tonight.”
I purse my lips to stifle a bitter laugh. God knows I wasn’t expecting her to; I learned a long time ago that it’s rarely the cause of the hurt that soothes it.
I’ve never been one for quick, snippy comebacks, and it turns out, I don’t need one. The rest of the world reappears as a drunk guy stumbles over, and my head snaps towards Luna just in time to catch her jolt as a heavy hand jerks the back of her seat.
“Luna fuckin’ Evans.” Billy leers down at her, and I find myself wishing that when I helped him with his pitch last semester, I’d done something else with the baseball bat instead. “Been looking for you.”
Complete apathy paints Luna’s face as she drawls, “lucky me,” but her sarcasm is lost on Billy.
He smiles, wide and fucking creepy, and agrees. “Lucky you.”
Jaw clenched, Luna gestures to me. “I’m busy.”
“Ah.” Billy’s grin redirects, landing on me. “Luckyyou.”
“Fuck off.” Luna huffs as she stands. When she makes a break for escape, Billy blocks her path, and before I know it, I’m on my feet and echoing her sentiment.
