by Meghan Quinn
“I see.”
“But you.” She squeezes my hand. “You admit when you’re wrong, you admit to having faults, and you’re willing to change, to grow.”
“Are you saying I’m a man, Luna?”
“I am. A man who can bake one hell of a cake.”
I pause and tug on her hand so she stops with me, and then spin her into my chest, where her hand falls for balance. Her hair whips across her face, and a few strands stick to her lips. I reach up and remove them, letting my hand stray for a few seconds. We pause beside an old redbrick church that’s under construction, the scaffolding giving us shelter from the lights around us.
“When you admit things like that, it makes me want to kiss you . . . kiss you really fucking hard.”
Her eyes light up, her body leans into mine, and a wicked smile plays across her lips. “Then do it.”
Three tempting words—three words that have my body humming.
What I wouldn’t give for another taste, another chance to hear the softest moan rumble up Luna’s throat as my mouth presses against hers. I reach out, tilting her chin up with my index finger.
Lick my lips.
Stare down at her, letting her know my intentions.
I catch her chest rising and falling rapidly, the quick swipe of her tongue along her lips, the intake of breath as I close a few more inches between us.
I want it . . . bad.
But so does she.
And because she wants it so bad, I say, with an evil grin, “I’ll wait.”
She gasps, mouth falling open, eyes widening.
She nudges my shoulder playfully. I laugh, continuing down the sidewalk, while she tails me, pouting.
“What do you mean you’ve never had pineapple?” Luna asks, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. We’re sitting on a bench along the Hudson River Greenway a block from Luna’s building, gelato in hand, the moon hanging over us like a lamp, providing just enough light so I can see the tiniest difference between her irises and her pupils.
“Just never have. Yellow fruit freaks me out.”
“What does that even mean? Have you had bananas?”
“Yeah, bananas are more like a cream color when they’re out of their peel. But pineapple . . .” I shake my head. “What manufacturer is pumping that thing with yellow dye?”
“Uhhh . . . Mother Nature,” Luna says in an affronted tone. “Please tell me this is all a joke.”
“Nope. Sorry.”
“I can’t even with you right now. It’s such a simple fruit.”
“A fruit that used to be a luxury. Even my parents grew up thinking it was an exotic privilege.”
“Hence why you should have taken advantage your whole life. My God, Alec, the years you’ve wasted not knowing what pineapple tastes like. Why do I feel like I’m going to be showing up at your apartment with a pineapple tomorrow?”
“As if it’s a hardship.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
“It is when I’m seeing a guy who’s never had pineapple before.”
“Seeing a guy?” I ask, loving her little slipup. “So does that mean there will be a second date?”
“Ugh, stop it—you know this is going well, despite the whole pineapple thing. Of course there will be a second date.”
“How about making our second date tomorrow morning, or we can just make this date last until tomorrow morning. I have a comfortable bed—want to test it out?”
I lean toward her, but she palms my face, pushing me away. “You’re cute for even thinking that’s an option.”
“It’s not?”
“No.” She puts a spoonful of gelato in her mouth. “It’s not. Farrah would probably murder me. She’s still a little salty that I didn’t tell her about you right away, and she’s not exactly your number one fan yet. If I spent the night—man, would she be mad.”
“I see. So, I have to win over the best friend?”
“Oh, for sure. She keeps texting and asking me when I’m coming home. Asking me if she needs to prepare to kick you in the crotch.”
“She’s a violent one.”
“Only when she needs to be.”
After I finish off my gelato, I stand and hold my hand out. “How about we go solve the problem with Farrah right now?”
“Like, go to my apartment?”
“Yup.” I take her hand in mine and help her up. “Show me the way.”
She shoots me a suspicious glance. “I don’t know if you’re ready for her.”
“Not sure I’ll ever be. But better to get it over now, because I’m not going to let her prolong the inevitable.”
“And what’s the inevitable?”
“A friendly sleepover—of course, one that involves wearing matching pajamas and watching Grease.”
“Uh-huh.” She chuckles and leads the way to her apartment.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LUNA
“Oh hell no,” Farrah says when we walk into the apartment, hand in hand. “Over my dead, Froot Loops–powered body will you be fornicating with that man, in this apartment, when I’m only a few feet away. Not going to happen. Not when he called you . . . ‘repugnant.’”
She is ripe today. This might be harder than I anticipated.
“We’re not here to fornicate, Farrah.” I shut the door behind us.
“Uh-huh, well, feeling his weenie up in your bedroom isn’t acceptable either.”
Alec chuckles, and I elbow him in the stomach. He’s not helping. “There will be no touching of body parts. We’re here so you can get to know Alec.”
Farrah crosses her arms over her chest, lips curled in a sneer. “Get to know him? What’s there to know? You kissed my best friend, and now she thinks you’re a good guy.”
“Technically,” Alec says, holding up a finger, “I kissed her after she changed her mind about me.”
“Fighting with her is not going to help your case,” I say from the side of my mouth.
“She’s right—fighting with me will not help your case, but it will sure help my rage.” She pretends to roll up her nonexistent sleeves and thrusts her fists into the air. “All right, let’s duke it out.” She bounces around the living room in her bare feet, jabbing at the air.
“Okay,” Alec says, taking his shoes off and putting up his fists as well, approaching without any caution.
“Whoa, hold on,” I say, but Farrah holds up her hand.
“Stay out of this, you repugnant swan.”
“Hey.” My brow furrows.
“I said ‘swan,’” she says just as she’s smacked in the stomach with a throw pillow. She stands up straight. Blinks. “You did not just chuck a pillow at me.”
“Stop stalling,” Alec says, grinning. I blink, hardly believing that he’s facing off against my best friend, proving that he’s not only in this, but that he’s also one hell of a good time as well.
“Why, I oughta . . . ,” Farrah says in an old-timey New York accent, jabbing her fists toward him but not making contact.
He jabs back, feet away, but she ducks anyway.
And just like that, they take part in the weirdest—and only—air fistfight I’ve ever seen.
“Take that.” Farrah throws a punch, and Alec whips his head back, his hair flopping to the side. He pretends to check his nose for blood and then sets his sights on the enemy again.
“A little blood never hurt anyone,” he says, bouncing his fists up and down.
There is no blood.
None.
There’s no contact, for fuck’s sake.
But the punching sound effects coming from both parties are entertaining, to say the least.
Pow. Zap. Swap. Kapow.
I feel like I’m watching an old episode of Batman.
“Ga-zoonga!” Farrah shouts as she roundhouse kicks thin air.
“Ha-cha . . . cha, cha, cha,” Alec says as he rapidly uppercuts nothing.
“Look out, Baxter, this train has a one-way ticket with your name on it.” Farrah pulls
the imaginary whistle near her head. “Woo . . . wooooo.” She charges toward him while his back is turned to her. She leaps on top of him, landing in the piggyback position.
Unsure of really what to do, I stand there, staring . . . and wondering how far this is going to go.
Alec twirls her around in circles as she clings to his shoulders. “Ride it, bitch, ride it!” Farrah calls out, swinging a nonexistent lasso above her head.
What in the ever-living hell is happening?
Alec stops, twists one way and then the other and then the other, and then he tosses Farrah onto the couch. “Is that all you’ve got?”
“Hell no, son!” Farrah stands. Both of their chests are heaving from the exertion, but she cocks her arm back and yells “Ka-blammy!” while flinging her fist toward Alec. He reacts by twisting in a full three-sixty, head cocked to the side, and then landing on the ground. “Ah ha! Knocked that motherfucker to the ground. TKO, baby, TKO.” Farrah hops up and down, celebrating . . . well, I don’t even know what she’s celebrating.
After a few “raise the roofs” from Farrah, she turns to me and grins. “He’s awesome—let’s keep him.”
Jesus . . . Christ.
“You don’t have to use the ice pack anymore for your fake injury.”
Alec chuckles and lowers the ice pack that he’s had on his eye for the last twenty minutes. “Made her feel special, so that’s all that matters.”
We’re standing in the hall outside my apartment. Inside, Farrah is tucked in nice and tight, very pleased with how her evening ended.
I grab hold of Alec’s pants pocket and pull him close. “Pretty sure you’re her new best friend now, and you’re going to be expected to fake fight whenever you come over.”
“I mean, better than real fighting, and she’s pretty cool. I can see why you guys are best friends.”
“You know.” I tug on his pocket. “You’re so different from what I expected.”
“Yeah? How so?” he asks, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering on the nape of my neck.
“I guess I didn’t expect you to loosen up. I wouldn’t have predicted in a million years that I’d see you fake fighting with my best friend and purposefully taking the imaginary knockout like a champ.”
He shrugs and steps a little closer so I really have to look up to meet his gaze. “I’m a lot more fun than you make me out to be, especially when I’m really feeling the girl I’m with.”
“Feeling me, huh?”
“A whole fucking lot.” He moves his hand from the nape of my neck up to my jaw and runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “I like you, Luna. I want to see you again, date you, get to know you even better.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good.” He leans down so our foreheads are touching. “I don’t want to mess this up, what we have going on here.”
“Then don’t.” I smile, wanting him to close the last few inches of distance between our lips.
“I’m going to do everything I can not to, which brings me to this . . .”
I lean back, searching his eyes. “This? Uh oh, am I not going to like what you say next?”
“Maybe not, but I’m not sure how to navigate this relationship and the show without this request.”
“Oh . . . kay,” I say slowly. “What is it?”
His thumb drags over my cheek, and he sighs. “Thad is a bit of a drama queen.”
“I’ve noticed.” I chuckle.
“And I feel like if he found out I was seeing you, he’d lose his damn mind, especially since you’re the competition. And I’m really trying to make things right with him, you know?”
“Let me guess: you want to keep this relationship between us.”
“Yeah.” He winces. “I know that’s asking a lot.”
“It is.” I take a step away. “I don’t keep secrets from Cohen. We’re open and honest about everything.”
“Cohen is also emotionally stable. Thad can fly off the deep end at any point. Please, it’s just a few weeks. We can be low key about it, and then after the weddings, we’ll let them know. When the dust has settled.”
“I don’t know.” I look off to the side, pulling my lower lip under my teeth.
“I understand if you can’t,” he says. “Your trust with Cohen means a lot to the both of you. So maybe we just . . . I don’t know. Put this on hold for now, until the show is over.”
“On hold?” I ask, the thought of pressing pause making me panicky inside. I don’t want to press pause with Alec, not after this past week, not after that kiss, not after watching him pretty much wrestle with my best friend to prove that he’s a good guy and will do just about anything for me.
“It wouldn’t be that long, and I guess it would give you time to really think about being with me. You know, decide if it’s something you want.”
“Yeah,” I say with a defeated sigh.
He reaches out and tips my chin so my eyes meet his. “It’s okay, Luna. It really is. I don’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not comfortable with.” He leans in and presses a very light kiss against my lips before stepping away and slipping his hands in his pockets. “Centerpieces this week.” He gives me a crooked smile. “Good luck—I know my team’s gonna need it.” He lifts his hand and waves and then takes off down the hall, leaving me to wonder what I’ve just agreed to.
This was not how I was planning this evening to end—not in the slightest. I was hoping for a grand kiss, one that would rival our first. I was hoping he would press me up against the wall again before making plans for the second date we keep talking about. I was hoping he’d even ask to just snuggle for a little bit—from the look of his arms, I know he would be a good snuggler.
But instead, I got a whisper of a kiss and a gentle “break” before we’ve even started going out?
How the hell did that happen?
And why am I feeling incredibly sad about it, like “stick my face in a carton of neapolitan ice cream” sad about it? Why does it feel like he’s just walked away with a piece of my heart?
I roll onto my side, the darkness of my room making me feel more depressed than before.
Because Farrah went straight to bed, I didn’t want to bother her with what happened out in the hallway, and eating ice cream by myself just felt too Bridget Jones’s Diary to me. I don’t think I’m at that point yet.
Instead I got ready for bed, flopped onto the mattress, and stared up at the ceiling, recounting everything he said. I mean . . . would it be that terrible if we kept quiet for a couple more weeks? We have two more weeks of challenges and then the weddings. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, all back to back.
So, three weeks—would that really do any harm?
If I confirm the suspicions of Cohen and Declan, then there’s a good chance Declan might let it slip at some point, especially while we’re filming, which would be the worst-case scenario. I love Declan, but he’s been known to have a bit of a loose tongue.
And I really do like Alec . . .
Irritated, I pick up my phone, type out a text, and impulsively hit send.
Luna: Are you up?
Immediately the dots start dancing on my screen. Glad to know he’s not sleeping either.
Alec: Can’t seem to fall asleep.
Luna: Can I ask you something?
Alec: Ask me anything.
Luna: If you didn’t walk away, how would our night have ended?
I unplug my phone and roll onto my back, my pulse picking up as I wait for his response. It feels like forever before he answers.
Alec: I would have cradled your beautiful face in my hands, thanked you for a great evening, and then I would have slowly backed you up against the wall of your apartment building and claimed your lips, making sure they remembered exactly who made them light up the night before.
I groan, squeezing my eyes shut with disappointment.
Alec: Would you have kissed me back?
Is he serious?
Lun
a: I would have.
Alec: It would have been hard for me to leave.
Luna: It would have been hard for me to let go.
Alec: And yet . . . you did.
Luna: Alec.
Alec: I know . . . I know. Okay, I’m going to try to get some sleep. See you on Saturday, Luna Moon.
Luna: Alec?
Alec: Hmm?
Luna: Can I come over tomorrow?
Alec: You know I’ll be desperate to see you. Come over whenever you want.
Luna: Okay.
Alec: Okay.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ALEC
I stare at the phone, my nerves shot.
I’ve been at a standstill for the last ten minutes, my finger hovering over the call button.
Just fucking do it.
I massage my brow as I press call, and with each ring, the need to throw up grows stronger and stronger until . . .
“Hello?”
Fuck, this was a mistake, a giant mistake. What the hell was I thinking?
“Hello?” That voice, raspy and full of unwanted memories. It rolls my stomach, twists and turns it, and not in a good way.
I should hang up. Just lower the phone and press the end button . . .
“Hello? Alec?”
Fuck.
Clearing my throat, I hold the phone closer to my ear and say, “Hey, Mom.”
“Alec,” she says, her voice neutral. “You’re calling.”
This won’t be an awkward phone call at all.
“Yeah.” I nod, even though she can’t see me.
“Are Thad and Naomi okay?”
“They’re okay.”
And that’s it. No, Are you okay? How’s life? Haven’t talked to you in a while. Then again, I’m the one who called her and can’t seem to find any words.
Since talking with Luna last night, I’ve had an overwhelming urge to reach out to my mom. If I truly want to be happy, I need to patch up the holes in my life, one of which is my relationship with my mother. I thought calling her was the first step, but if calling her is this difficult, how is it going to feel when I actually have to see her in person?