by Shen, L. J.
Answering him would be dangerous, but I couldn’t help myself, knowing he might change his mind if I waited to call him back. I excused myself and ran out into the alleyway sandwiched between the club and a coffee shop. I hit answer and jammed a finger into my ear so I could hear him better.
At first, I just listened to his soft breaths, feeling shudders of both pleasure and pain coursing through my body. His sheer existence excited me. Vaughn was wrong. Moving away from Knight didn’t solve the problem. It amplified it.
“Hey,” his gruff baritone said, finally.
“Hi,” I whispered, too afraid to be heard by anyone else. I hadn’t spoken a word to anyone who wasn’t him yet, but for some reason, when he was around I needed to speak—to claim his attention somehow. I still couldn’t understand why I was able to speak to him, especially now. I was putting my new, meaningful friendships at risk for someone who’d made it clear he wanted to get even with me. Who sought revenge. Who craved my pain.
“How have you been?” I asked at the same time he said, “You need to stop calling me, Luna.”
There was a beat of silence in which I digested what he’d said. He wasn’t mean or menacing this time. There was no edge to his voice.
“What?” I gasped.
“I’m trying really hard not to hurt you, but I’m struggling. You need to take a step back before I do something I’ll regret,” he explained.
“Who said I can leave you alone?” I asked breathlessly, not really deciphering my own words. “You think I haven’t tried?”
“Try harder, Luna. I know you can, because for about eight years, you did. Three unreciprocated kisses. You sleeping with someone else. You did a pretty darn good job, so just keep doing it, okay?”
I remembered what he’d said about my presence feeling like a metal chain. A heavy burden he wanted to shake off. Guess it had always been easy for me to choose Knight, because I didn’t have any options. Because Knight always chose me. But his choice came with a bigger sacrifice. He was the one getting me out of trouble, shooing off the bullies, making sure I had someone to sit with at recess. He was the one who constantly gave up the opportunity to actually date the hottest girls.
“Moonshine,” he pushed through the fog in my head, pulling me back to reality. “Give it a rest. You’re poking the bear.”
“You didn’t even say anything about my talking,” I sulked, feeling the anger clogging my throat.
I didn’t know why it was so important to address it right this second. I could hear the smile in his voice.
“I always knew you’d talk, and not just to me. To everyone. I watched you crawl out of your shell, and it was slow, but by fucking God, it was beautiful. Have you spoken to anyone else?”
He sounded warm, conversational now—the Knight I was used to, who looked at me with admiration and delight.
I thought about my answer before giving it to him this time. “I’m working on it. It’s strange to be without the gang, but I think I like it. I think I like being on my own. What about you? How’s school? Football?”
This was what we’d come to. Two strangers making small talk. I wanted to cry, and I had to bite my trembling lower lip to stop it from happening.
“We’re winning, which is good. School is fine. Mom is…”
“What?” I panicked. “How is Rosie doing?”
“Fine,” he amended his initial, worried tone. Still—that annoying word. “She’s getting more intensive treatment, but she’s doing well.”
“Send her my love.”
“Always.”
Are you dating someone?
Who is she?
Is she pretty?
My thought process scared me. I’d never cared much for boys. Only that wasn’t true. It just happened that the only boy I cared about was finally taking a step back, and now I knew how much he’d meant to me.
“Luna! Where the hell have you been? Josh is panicking that he lost you because he was the last person to see you.” I heard April’s drunken laugh just then, and turned around, my mouth falling open.
I was caught red-handed, with my phone pressed against my ear. As soon as April saw it, she stumbled back.
“Whoa.” She hiccupped, bracing herself against the red-brick wall.
I heard a dark chuckle coming from the other end of the line.
“Have a good night, Moonshine.” Knight’s voice turned metallic before the line went dead.
Crap. Now Knight knew I was spending time with Josh, and he’d probably draw his own wrong conclusions. But he’d explicitly asked me not to contact him any more, so I couldn’t even explain myself. Not without ignoring the only thing he’d ever asked of me.
I stuffed my hands into my back pockets, smiling awkwardly as April paced toward me, her expression hooded. Now I had an entire new set of worries to obsess over. Had she heard me speaking? That could ruin everything.
“Naughty Knight?” She tapped her lips.
I nodded. She rolled her eyes as she approached me, looping her arm over my shoulders and walking me to the door. I let out a relived sigh. She hadn’t heard.
“Why is the asshole calling you? Can’t he take a goddamn hint? Jesus. What a douche canoe.”
Of course, I did not correct her assumption, because explaining to her how I was a selective mute would require me to also tell her what had happened. Tell her about Val. And that wasn’t a story I was keen on telling. We went back into the club, and as soon as April spotted Ryan and Josh, she shoved me into the latter’s arms, jumping on Ryan and wrapping her arms around his neck as she awarded him with a wet kiss. I fell into Josh’s hands. As always, he caught me.
In the car, Josh glanced at me. His eyes told me April had given him the rundown. I liked April, but I hated the way she butted into my business.
“I know you said Knight is the one, and I respect that,” he signed. “But would you ever give me a chance to try to be that other one? The second big love? The one you end up marrying? Because I’d like to apply.”
I wondered how much of it was him wanting me, and how much of it was him finally finding someone like him. The same age. Who liked the same bands and studied at the same school. Of the same heritage—more or less—who spoke sign language.
We had everything going for us, other than one thing: our hearts.
I squeezed his hand, biting my lip in answer.
He knew.
Three nights after the phone call with Knight, I was lying in bed, doing my usual Instagram routine to look for pictures of him. There were none. Maybe he didn’t go to parties anymore? The prospect made me physically sick. For all my jealousy, I wanted him to have fun. I wanted him to be happy and meet girls and get over me. Because even if I didn’t get over him, I desperately cared for his wellbeing.
When I came up empty-handed, I decided to log into Poppy’s profile. I didn’t expect to see much. I wanted to count the Likes on that kissing picture and cheer up when I thought about the amount of money they had collected for Rosie’s cystic fibrosis foundation.
Poppy had posted four new pictures since the one that broke my heart. Three of them accordion-related, and of no importance to me. It was the last image that gave me pause. I clicked on it. She’d tagged a restaurant in La Jolla. It was of a giant milkshake with chocolate-covered pretzels, an entire donut, an enlarged Tim Tam to use as a straw, and three different ice cream scoops mounted on the glass. Next to the milkshake, was something that made my heart beat faster. Car keys.
Aston Martin car keys.
A distinctive Aston Martin car key, with a keychain that said My Favorite People Call Me Daddy, something Knight had found in Dean’s drawer and thought it’d be funny to use.
Had Knight taken Poppy on a date? It was easier to tell myself they were hanging out with more people, but why wouldn’t he go out with her? He’d said to leave him alone. That he wanted some space. This was perfect. She was perfect.
I knew it would drive me mad to think about it, so I chose not
to. I threw off my covers and padded to my desk. Not, God forbid, to my typewriter, which was still untouched, but to my MacBook. Briefly, I wondered if something, or someone, would ever give me the courage to pick up a pen and write. I did write essays and short stories for school, but I never wrote anything I didn’t absolutely need to.
I opened my search bar and Googled the one name that always sucked me into a black hole and made me forget. The perfect diversion from Knight.
Valenciana Vasquez.
I hit enter, sat back, watched the results roll in neatly, and started to dig.
Footsteps thudded in the hall, and I stretched in the large bed, nudging the woman sleeping on my chest to wake up.
“Your husband’s back. Pretty sure he won’t be so happy to see a stud like me in his bed.”
Mom looked up, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She swatted my chest, then coughed. “Hide. I wouldn’t mess with him.”
“I wouldn’t mess with me.”
I flexed my biceps behind her, and her coughs became loud barks that made me want to kill someone. Dad threw the door open, already untying his tie. He reached the bed, planted a kiss on Mom’s nose, and flicked the back of my head.
“You’re too old to cuddle with your mama.”
“Don’t say that!” Rosie shrieked.
“Seems like she’s not really in agreement with you.” I yawned.
Dad went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. I squeezed Mom into my chest and kissed the crown of her head.
“He’s probably crying while listening to Halsey on repeat like a little bitch.” I yawned again.
“Language, boy.”
“C’mon, we’re not one of those fake families.”
“What kind of family are we?” she asked.
“A real, kick-ass one.”
Mom laughed so hard, I thought she was going to puke out a lung. When the laughter died and she looked up at me, she had that let’s-get-real expression I perpetually hated.
“Have you spoken to Luna lately?”
“I have.”
And had I fucking ever. She actually spoke. Which I didn’t share with anyone, naturally. It was bad enough I’d ratted her out for sleeping with FUCKING JOSH (forever in capital letters, thank you very much) in front of everyone at a family dinner. There was no need to completely shit all over her trust.
Trent Rexroth had spent the day after Thanksgiving running after me across a park with that baseball bat. I had better stamina, but I’d let him catch me when I got to our deserted treehouse, because let’s admit it, I deserved a good beating.
When he’d finally pushed me against the old trunk, he just gave me a scary-ass look and promised, “If you disrespect my daughter again, in public or in private, I will spear your fucking head to my fence and feed the rest of you to the coyotes.”
Plus, I kind of liked that Luna and I had our own secret, even though I was working through purging her out of my system. I’d lied. I didn’t want to get even. I didn’t want to hurt her. But I was done letting her hurt me, and that was something.
“And…?” Mom wiggled her eyebrows.
She was #TeamLunight. She’d even made herself a shirt with the hashtag for Christmas four years ago, when the concept had seemed real. My parents had loved each other in secret for over a decade. They still believed in star-crossed lovers and fairytales coming true. Only they’d had a real obstacle stopping them from being together. And that obstacle wasn’t some random dude’s dick.
“She and Josh seem to be very happy, from what I could tell.”
Her face fell.
“Hey.” I nudged her. “It’s not like I give a crap.”
“Of course you don’t.” She arched an eyebrow skeptically.
“Girls are lizards. They don’t have souls.”
“This is slander. Who says lizards don’t have souls?” She pretended to gasp. “And how do you mean?”
“Cold blood. That’s why you always shower with extra-hot water. Fact. Look it up on the internet.” I pinched her nose just as Dad came out of the bathroom, freshly showered, wearing jeans and a Polo shirt.
“You’re still here,” he said, glancing at the door. “Can I bribe you with something to get some downtime with my wife? Another car? A nice vacation? Perhaps a kick in the butt?”
“Oh, you.” Mom opened her arms. Dad skulked into her embrace. A moth to a flame. Two unique pieces of an elaborate puzzle. The Coles were professional huggers. I swear Ma had a PhD in that shit.
“Lev! Levy-boy,” Dad roared. “Come here right now. Family cuddle.”
“Can’t,” Lev barked from his room.
Dad rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone, turning off Lev’s cell through an app.
“Hey!” Lev shouted. “I was talking to Bailey.”
“Shocker,” Dad and I drawled in unison.
Mom burst out laughing again.
“I want every Cole man in this bed right now!” She patted the mattress.
Lev came running down the hallway, cannonballing onto the giant bed. We were all in now, laughing and talking. Mom ordered pizza, and we played twenty questions with the loser picking up the pizza from the door.
I didn’t think about Luna. Or FUCKING JOSH. Or that first second every morning when I woke up and wanted to throw up because Luna had taken a dump all over what we’d had.
This was good.
This was for the best.
All I needed was my family—not another deserter who’d give me up.
After another grueling morning workout, I chugged down an entire bottle of BCAA water and slam-dunked it into the trash can on the way to my locker.
“Coming through. Beep, beep. Make way for the royal QB1, his highness Knight Cole.”
The rest of my team pushed people down the hallway, half-joking, but half dead-ass serious.
Some freshman turd mouthed something about my saliva and rummaged in the trash to retrieve my empty bottle. I couldn’t give two fucks if he tried to replicate my DNA and make a ninja turtle out of it. It was becoming harder and harder to care about stupid things when your mother was one day closer to dying.
The football team dispersed, each player to his own locker. I reached mine, glancing behind my back. After making sure the coast was clear, I produced the letter I’d received this summer and opened it. It was wrinkled from being read five thousand times, but I read it again. It wasn’t the first letter I’d received about this shitty matter, but it was the one I loved being tortured with the most, because it offered action.
Meet me.
I dare you.
I didn’t know why, but I especially liked reading it on days Mom felt like crap, one of which happened to be today.
Of course, drinking a bottle of whiskey before practice had helped, too.
“Dafuq am I going to do with you?” I muttered at the letter, scanning the scandalous words. I shoved it back inside my locker, buried it in textbooks.
Slamming my locker, I saw Poppy’s face. She stood right behind the door. Her sister, Lenny, was next to her.
“Hullo,” she said in her Mary Poppins’ accent.
“Yo.” I balanced my books under my armpit, ready to start for the lab.
There weren’t many things I hated more than chemistry, but seeing Vaughn’s smug face across the hall morphing into something that strangely resembled intrigue was one of them. He slammed his locker and came to stand next to us.
What does the fucker want now?
Vaughn being Vaughn, he just stood there for the first few seconds, like a fucking creeper, staring at the three of us. No hi. No good morning. Nothing. Asshole had the social skills of a Post-It note. It went to show that high school students were a special breed of idiots, because dude was actually popular.
“Hey, Vaughn.” Poppy smiled at him, mock-punching his arm.
Her sister rolled her eyes at the gesture. They were polar opposites, Poppy and Lenny. Poppy was more like a toned-down version of my friend Dar
ia. She liked pretty dresses and putting highlights in her hair and knew how to distinguish one Kardashian from the other. Lenora was a different breed of chick entirely. Her wardrobe consisted of black shit only. She wore a lot of eyeliner and had a septum piercing. If you’d told me she’d lost her virginity in a satanic ritual on someone’s grave, I wouldn’t bet against it. Seemed legit. What worked for Lenny was the fact that she was small and pretty, so she looked cute more than scary—like something Tim Burton would keep as a pet.
Lenny stared at my locker behind my shoulder, not acknowledging my best friend.
“So, wasn’t that milkshake fab? Thanks for taking us to La Jolla. We’ve never been before,” Poppy chirped.
“It’s La Jolla, not outer space. Proportions, Violet,” Vaughn deadpanned.
“It’s Poppy.”
“Same shit.”
“Not really. You could make an effort and remember,” Poppy cried.
I saw her point, but trying to reason with Vaughn by being butthurt was like trying to worm your way into a serial killer’s good graces by running naked in an empty field after handing him a machete.
“You’re right,” Vaughn yawned. “I’ll remember next time.”
“You will?”
“Yeah. Heroin is made out of Poppy. Coincidently, you bore me to death.”
Don’t laugh, asshole. Don’t you fucking dare.
“Someone’s touchy. Is it shark week, Spencer?” Lenny asked Vaughn conversationally, examining her chipped, black-painted nails.
“Burn,” I coughed into my fist, laughing.
“Nope, but if it’s blood you’re after, I’m your guy.” Vaughn still didn’t look at Lenny.
Lenny didn’t look at him, either. Was I witnessing a mating dance between two assholes?
Dear God,
If you are up there—which I’m not betting on, because why would you take my mom if you are?—please don’t let these two reproduce.
The planet doesn’t need a third world war.
Yours,
KJC
“Are you threatening me?” Lenora seemed about as outraged as a used napkin.