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Frowning, I start towards her but the sudden influx of students pouring into the hallway hinders me. As does the appearance of a different crop of blonde hair.
A girl I vaguely recognize blocks my view of Luna. Smirking eyes, a shade darker than Luna's and a little more green-tinged, scan me slowly from head to toe, making me feel like a mannequin on display.
I clear my throat uncomfortably. “Hi?”
Light laughter escapes the mystery blonde. She waves her hand in the air dismissively, the faintest blush creeping up her neck. “Sorry, that was creepy. You're Jackson, right?”
When I nod, she holds out her hand. “I'm Pen. Luna's friend.”
Ah. The infamous Pen.
I shuffle the stuff in my grip so I can shake her hand, but my smile is pinched, my focus elsewhere, straying over her head. “She’s fine.” Pen floats into my eyeline again, smirking. “My dad's just a hardass.”
“Your dad?”
“Professor Jacobs. He's just chewing her out for being late.” A sly expression overcomes her features. “I'm assuming that was your fault?”
I shrug, scratching my head as a little bit of guilt sinks in; I didn't think she'd actually cop shit for being late.
“And I'm assuming you're the reason she looks like that?”
That makes me crack a genuine smile. She really does look ridiculous. The epitome of a walk of shame, minus the shame because she wears the look with pride.
Pen must take my smile as an invitation to chat, because she chatters on and on for what feels like forever but is realistically barely five minutes. I shift awkwardly in place, reshuffling the styrofoam cups in my hands again just because it gives me something to do. It's not that I don't like her; I don't know her. I just want to get Luna and get the hell out of here.
A wave of relief hits me when my girl finally strides over, eyeing the beverages in my hands hopefully. “One of those for me?”
“Both.”
Her beam is mega-watt as she plucks the hot chocolate from my grip. “Excellent answer.” My newly freed hand goes straight to her hip, clinging for dear life and yanking her closer so I can drop a kiss to her temple. She leans into me easily, a low moan escaping her as she chugs half her drink in one go. “I love you.”
All three of us freeze.
A slow, steady blush creeps up Luna's neck as her blurted confession sinks in, eyes wide with something akin to horror as she turns to me. “I did not mean it like that.”
Pen's laughter echoes around the hallway, her expression the complete opposite to Luna's; she looks about ready to crack open a bucket of popcorn.
“You didn't?” I can't help but tease.
“Stop it.”
“Come on, sweetheart, you're breaking my heart.” I get shoved so hard I almost drop her second beverage. Catching her by the elbow, I can't help but kiss the pout off her lips through my laughter. A little rougher than intended, her little slip of the tongue spurring me on, the idea of her loving me igniting something in me that I table for later before it becomes overwhelming.
“Alright, alright. Break it up before I vomit. Or cry.”
Luna breaks away from me to thump Pen, who yelps before thumping her right back. As I chuckle at their bickering, I feel the burning sensation of someone staring at us, making me glance up. Pen's dad, Luna's professor, is watching us with narrowed eyes. I offer him a smile, but it fades when he doesn't return it. Mouth set in a straight line, his gaze flits from Luna to Pen, and his expression hardens even more.
Weird.
The sound of Pen calling a goodbye draws my attention away from the professor just in time to see her racing away from us, presumably off to another class. Luna's cheeks are still tinged red, her chest rising and falling with awkward laughter. Smiling, I sling an arm over her shoulders. “Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“You gonna propose to me if I bring you to a drive-thru?” The book in her hand meets my stomach with a thump, drawing a pained huff out of me. “You're violent today.”
“You're annoying today,” she retorts with an exaggerated sneer.
It's in this moment that I pinpoint why I love seeing flustered, flushed, messy Luna. She's usually always so poised and in control and... I don't know, above me? Not in a bad way. Just that she always seems like she's miles ahead, like she knows what she's doing, what to say, how to act. Or, at least, in the months I was gathering up the courage to actually talk to her, she always seemed like that. And I like that side of her, but I like this side too.
