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With his back against the moonlight, I can sense rather than actually see his eyes.
“One day, you’re going to learn that sometimes winning looks nothing like what you think it does, Luna.”
“And you’ve won?”
He smirks. “You came running after me, didn’t you? If that’s not winning, I don’t know what is.”
“No. I—”
“You came running so fast that you left your dessert behind.” His voice remains steady, low, and dark. A challenge.
“I-I just wanted to know how you knew what color that guy’s undies were.”
“And that’s how I win. Me”—he points to his chest—“having something that you”—he gently touches my chest with his index finger—“want. That’s what winning looks like, Luna the Loser.”
His confidence, his smugness, takes my breath away. It’s like nothing I’ve ever come across before.
“You’re an arrogant asshole, Kingsley.”
“Not going to deny that. So, now, are you going to tell me what was bothering you?”
“Why do even you care?” I practically shout, frustrated about the way he’s made me feel always slightly off my center of gravity from the first second he pulled me to safety.
Heady, dizzy, confused.
“Does it matter why I care?” he answers flatly. “Does it change the fact that you want me to care?”
It does.
Or at least it should.
But in that moment, I have to admit that it doesn’t change anything.
Because he’s right.
I do want him to care.
I don’t know why; maybe it’s because of his complete and total command of every moment since I met him, but I want to tell him.
I want to tell him everything.
I want to lean on him.
I want him to know how it feels to be me right now. How it feels to have lost everything and not know what the next day, the next minute, will hold.
I want him to tell me that everything’s going to be okay.
And I want to let myself believe him.
Just for a second. I just want it to be okay.
“Why? I’m a total stranger to you,” I say one more time, resolved to him walking away and me never getting an answer.
But he doesn’t walk away.
He stands, strong and still, holding that invisible rope, keeping me tethered, and whispers, “Because I think you need someone to care about you right now.”
I’ve never seen London from this vantage point.
