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“Did you just call me an asshole?”
“No, I wasn’t…” Or was she? At the moment, she was confused and wasn’t sure what to say. “I-I didn’t mean that.”
His brow knitted together. “I can’t figure you out at all.”
“Why do you need to figure me out?”
“For one thing, you live above me. It would be nice to know how we could stay on relatively friendly terms or at least how I can avoid being called an asshole all the time.”
“You could actually avoid being an asshole. I’m sure that helps.”
“Is that what you really think?”
She studied him. His cheekbones were so sharp. Even with the facial hair, she wanted to know what his face was like to touch, not the quick swipe she’d done with the primer paint, but rather to place her hand on his cheek and connect with him. “No.”
“No, what?”
“No, I don’t think you’re an asshole.” He could be deceiving her, keeping that side of himself in check for whatever nefarious reason, but her gut couldn’t believe it was true. In this, she didn’t want to be wrong. “But you don’t know anything about plants,” she retorted because she couldn’t help it. Distance was safer.
Regardless of her intention, he smiled and it hit her in the gut. “I didn’t think I was keeping that a secret. In fact, I told you that in your apartment.”
“Oh. That’s right. You did.”
“So, what do you think, Luna?” Sam was doing that thing where it seemed as if his eyes were taking note of every feature of her face.
She could have sworn the neurons in her brain were moving in a more sluggish, rambling manner than normal because she’d already lost the thread of this conversation. “Think about what?”
“About being on friendlier terms.”
Could she ever be on friendly terms with someone like Sam? Knowing what she knew about him? He was quite different from what she had expected. With his naturally sympathetic expression, it made everything harder to sort.
“What’s your favorite thing to eat?” she asked, putting him off.
“Watermelon,” Sam replied without any hesitation.
“Really?” Of all the food in the world, she was surprised at this answer. Watermelon had to be an inferior thing to eat when pizza existed. It wasn’t even the sexiest fruit. No one got excited about dipping watermelon into chocolate.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
His eyes were so dark and intense, Luna swallowed, licking her lips. Sam tracked the movement with his gaze. Watermelon. Her lip balm. How did he…? She flushed. Not one single part of him was touching her, and the heat from him reached her nonetheless. Except her mind was in charge, not her body. She was strong enough to resist making any bad decisions, especially in regards to him. “Watermelon might be the only thing not allowed on pizza.”
“You’re willing to risk world peace over watermelon? I thought the queen was more open-minded than that.”
“There’s a reason world peace hasn’t been achieved yet. It’s nearly impossible to please everyone.”
“What about just one person then?”
As hard as it was, Luna turned away from him, busying herself with the herbs on the shelf, picking a selection of hardy ones, those that didn’t mind the unrelenting glare of sunlight, unlike herself. “I’m not very nice, remember?”
“Neither am I.”
She stopped to inspect a pot of rosemary. “I suppose…” Luna breathed. “I suppose if you weren’t an asshole, I could be less of a brat.”
“It’d definitely be a step in the right direction.”
“I might only be capable of doing a step here and there.”
“Okay,” he said.
